Activity

Swords, axes, large hammers, spears—hundreds of weapons lined the walls of the warrior training center, and photos of past warriors and their honor badges were framed and pinned. An air conditioner shook silently, blowing a cold breeze into the large conference room where two people sat. The first person was a man whose name was Emrys Gretchen, and the second was his twelve year old son, Blaine. Emrys was a warrior—and one of the most well known warriors in Burne. He worked non-stop, and most people wondered if he ever went home.
Emrys closed his computer and stood up. He walked to one of the large windows of the training center, and stared outward at the shimmering city in the far distance. He processed his tasks for the morrow—attempting to forget the memory that haunted him. Three years ago, his wife—Elia—had been in a car crash, and slipped into a coma for two years. Those years felt like an eternity. During the start of a third year, she’d passed away—leaving ten children and a heartbroken husband. The loss would have an effect that rippled through the family, and created unseen struggles.
Emrys turned away from the window. The lights of the city reminded him of those three depressing years. He looked up, noticing Blaine quietly wandered up and down the aisles of chairs, admiring the clean weapons on the walls.
There wasn’t much to do while Blaine waited to go home. His older brother would pick him up and they would return to the district of Needslight—the place they called home, though it was far from it. He was dreading going home—home to the district of countless sorrows and endless horrors. He hated living there—the fear walking down the streets, and sleeping with a possibility of someone breaking in. The worst part was the reality of the struggle to live—they were poor and hungry, and most homes were dirty. Fighting could be heard in the streets, arguments that were never made better by tired, hopeless words.
There were many ways this problem could be put to an end—and Blaine knew it was possible. Blaine looked up at his father and said, “Dad… I want to be a warrior.”
“You do?” Emrys sighed, looking towards his son.
“Yeah,” Blaine turned away from the long red banner he stood near, and sat down in a chair, “I want to start a warrior team.”
Emrys groaned a little. He walked to a sword on the wall, took it down, and polished it—without taking his eyes off the weapon, Emrys asked, “Why do you want to start a team?”
“I want to because,” Blaine stood up, “I want to bring a change to Needslight. I want it to be a better place for the Burnish. I don’t want people to walk around fearful, angry, and hopeless.”
There was a long moment of silence, as both father and son sat thinking. After a short while, Emrys sighed, “Warrior teams are made of more than one man, Blaine. Do you have friends who want to join you?“
“I—I don’t know…” Blaine replied.
“You’ll need to find some friends to train alongside you,” Emrys said, “We’ll talk again when you find those friends. Okay?”
“Okay,” Blaine nodded. He continued to stare out the large window. A small car pulled up outside, and it parked—waiting for Blaine to get in. Blaine said goodbye to his father, walked outside, and sat down in the passenger seat next to his brother, Bryson. The ride was entirely silent.
Blaine stared out the window as they made their way through the city and finally down a street called Tregartha. This road was one of the few that was often driven, and was known for its frequent accidents. It connected the Needslight residents to a well-lit liquor store—which was the only business in that area, and it did very well. Ironically, it was the only thing that lit the dark street.
The car parked in front of a tumbledown house. Home of the Gretchen family—they’d lived there for a long time. Blaine walked up to the door of the house, opened it, and stepped inside—where he was greeted by his youngest brother, Blaze. Empty cans sat on the counters and lined the floor, most of the windows were busted, and there was barely anything edible in the cabinets. As he passed through the kitchen, he grabbed a jar off the counter and a remnant piece of paper. He scribbled down the date and his new mission, and then shoved the paper into the jar.
Blaine carried the jar to his back yard and hid it amongst the overgrown bushes. He turned around and began to go back inside, but paused outside the door. He could hear his neighbors yelling and their children crying. An intoxicated man’s voice yelled several harsh words at a woman and the couple tussled over the man’s bottle of liquor. There was a loud crashing sound as the bottle smashed against the ground, and the man became enraged. The woman screamed as the man’s fist came upon her—causing the children to cry louder.
Most homes in Needslight sounded like this one, but not many people paid attention to it. People had learned to tune out and mind their own business.
Blaine clenched his teeth as it began to rain. The rain mixed with the his tears and sorrow struck his heart as he struggled to catch his silent cries. Wiping his face, he quickly walked back into the house. He hugged Blaze, and then walked to his bedroom and laid down on the bed he shared with his older brother. The rain picked up, but through it he could hear sirens in the wealthy neighborhoods. Sirens that meant safety for those thought more important.
Blaine rolled over, only to find himself facing Blaze—who had followed him in. He scooped the four year old up and held him close, “I’m going to start a team, Blaze—I’m going to help people in Needslight.”
“Really?” Blaze replied as he drifted off to sleep.
“Really,” Blaine whispered.

PROLOGUE | THE PURPLE EYED