The sky was roaring with thunder and rain no longer ago than a few moments ago. A desecrated holy land filled to the brim with the bodies of fallen foe and allies alike. The candid mutters of the scavengers at their invaluable opportunity echoes throughout the serene event. Rays of sunlight peeks through the gray clouds signifying that a new dawn has arrived.

  Amongst those scavengers was a boy with silver hair common to the people who reside in a country to the far east. With his cracked and splintered fingernails, he rummaged through the bloody battlefield in search for a future. Eyes hollow and black from the ordeals that his been through, he meticulously tore a man’s clothing and belongings from his body to keep warm for the nearing winter’s unforgiving wind and snow.

  “That’s mine!” A hulking hand swatted his entire body, launching him across the mountain of corpses.

  “This is my property. Get lost or I’ll bash your skull to a pulp!” Thrice his height, a man covered in dirt and scars fiercely warned him to vacate the premise.

  As the boy stood up feebly, he eyed the man for a few seconds before limping away to find another that’s far from hostile competition. No sound came from his mouth. No whimper or sob from the pulsating pain originating from his left torso. He just apathetically looked onward towards his goal.

  A safe distance away, he rummaged again. Only, there was hardly anything there worth taking. Somebody else must have gone through this area already. Alas, another missed opportunity.

  Or was it?

  A glint of hope caught his eyes somewhere to the west. The direct opposite of where his homeland and horrid past lay in a grave six-feet under.

  “Thread lightly to the great western lands, my son” A distant memory resurfaced, and emotions stored dip inside a cage of a locked heart stirred.

  He bit his lip so hard that blood oozed from the tearing of his flesh.

  “Do not be tempted to turn back…” A smile so radiant in the dire heat of the burning night calmed his alarmed soul.

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  A ray of light shines upon steel made for bloodshed and warfare, waiting for its new master to take hold of it. Limping closer, he leaned down and pulled the dagger from the cold body.

  “…there is nothing left for you to look behind” But as warm and comforting as that smile portrayed, a looming bitterness came across. They lost everything that night. The walls collapsed. The people fled or turned to slaves. The kingdom fell to ruin with its king beheaded on the castle's gondola.

  “… no” He muttered defiantly with his now burning eyes filled with purpose and ferocity.

  He turned and limped back to where he came from. Quiet and light as a falling leaf in autumn, he watched his every step. His breathing was controlled. Small and shallow intakes. Only the boisterous thumping of his heart could give him away. But it didn’t. He found the man crouching with his back turned to face him, preoccupied with counting his newly acquired possessions. With one swift motion, he buries the dagger in that person’s flesh.

  “AGHHHH!” The man stumbled forward, a hand to his bleeding neck. Panic and anger evident on his face as he saw the boy that he warned holding a dagger with crimson blood on the blades edge.

  “You little shit!” He disregarded his injury and came running for vengeance.

  The boy also, with a pained grunt, ignored the searing pain and ran for dear life. The chase only lasted for but a minute, though. As big and burly as the threatening man is, the loss of an enormous amount of blood quickly took its toll.

  “…” He wobbled from left to right, until he finally collapsed face first on the ground. Another corpse has been added to the mountain of deceased. Another soul to be guided by the keeper.

  After catching his breath, the boy neared his defeated foe.

  “… it’s mine” He spat out.

  The gray clouds dissipated and the sky cleared from any obstruction. The glorious sun emerged to take the throne once more, and it reigned for quite a while.

  The scholar's wrote down that the life of a depraved is only a downward spiral leading to suffering, but given the right circumstances and when the stars in the vast heavens align, a miracle of rebirth might just happen.

  “… it’s all… mine…” Succumbing to exhaustion, he collapsed soon after.

  A decade or so in time, minstrels would sing of a tale. The tale of a wandering ghost partaking in wars across the world. Nimble and weaving through death and decay, he rooted his place in the annals of history as a Wraith. An incarnation of chaos.

  “Six coins for a bag of potatoes? Are you joking? I’m not famished enough to pay s-” His stomach rumbled loudly and the other patrons of the bustling street market watched his embarrassed and shrinking demeanor.

  “… I’ll take it… Hey! Don’t sell it to her! I said I’ll take it! Here! I said here, goddammit!”

  With that said, he continues to live his life in normality when fate gives him a breather.