A forewarning to anyone who reads this excerpt from the first part of the story, It's A LOT darker then what I normally write. It doesn't go into descriptive details however. I'm trying my hand at writing a darker story, I'll probably fail.
They were screaming. My Mother and Father both right before my very eyes. I was only 3 or 4 at time but I could remember the event clear as day. I probably remembered it better then most adults did. It was tragic, or at least it was to me. My Mother begged for mercy as a man ripped into her in the most primitive of ways. My Father had to watch. Every time he tried to close his eyes or struggle the captors would strike until he couldn’t stand any longer and then force him back up from his knee’s.
I was held in another arm, but left unharmed. My parents only crime had been my existence. The shadow lord needed children and so he went from town to town stealing them. Young kids are durable because we can bounce back easier then most adults. We mend quicker and we are more flexible. Our bodies can learn to adapt to things that most adults can’t because we are still growing. If you get a child young enough you can make them believe anything you tell them.
They broke my parents until they begged for death. Then they showed them an act of mercy and killed them. They burned the bodies with dragon fire until nothing was left, not even the bones. I was taken away to my new home that consisted of a small metal box and left there for days without food or water. I survived. I thought I’d spent weeks in that box. I cried and screamed and begged to be let out until I had no voice and no energy left to beg with. I’d only be in there for 3 days.
They took me to a room that was completely white. A bed in the middle facing the door and a metal table with tools and syringes. Poked and prodded. They sliced me open when I was asleep and the only signs to prove it where the scars that had been left behind. They stuck me with needles and watched me for hours to see if there was any effects.
I got put in a room that was wide and big with beds lined up neatly next to each other making two rows. A large metal table in the middle that was empty. I was the only child here. I would be the only child for the next year when a small girl around my age was brought in. Her name was Enfys and we were the first two. Many more children came afterwords until there was a small army of us. We were all experimented on until we became the perfect tool for the Shadow Lord.
We are called Shifters. Our DNA was transformed into something else. I’m not to sure on the technical side of it all. I know the base of our DNA was a Feeders. With the use of drinking blood like a feeder does we had their healing abilities and a lack of normal hunger, but we didn’t need to drink. We wouldn’t go insane or die from the lack of blood. The ability to shift… I’d just always assumed it came from a breed of Dragon. Some of them could shift after all but no one really knew for sure.
They trained us to be perfect in everything we did. From just drawing a picture to murder. We were masters by the age of 10. We were also slaves to the people who controlled us. It was genius really when you think about it. No one would expect a little kid to come and destroy them. We were the unexpected factor in a war going bad. The king made billions of credits off of us. He had to of with all the people wanting to “rent” our services. We had to do anything they asked us to. I personally liked the parties. Usually when we got rented out for a party it was to sing or dance for the people. It was never anything worse then that though. The Shadow King had one good thing about him at least, he wouldn’t let anyone abuse his tools in that sort of way not if they where children. There were those who tried of course. They didn’t live long. That’s how you damaged a person.
The king would not have his tools damaged by anyone.
The killings were the hardest. To take another life and then to try to move past the guilt of it. You learned to shut down your own emotions so you wouldn’t have to do deal with the gut wrenching guilt. I had known a few who had learned to enjoy it. I remember the first time Enfys had killed someone. She had curled herself into a ball in a corner and cried all night long. I sat beside her in silence. I was jealous at the time. I hadn’t cried like her. I wondered for the first time if maybe I was broken because I couldn’t cry. Was I one of the twisted ones who liked taking a life, or had I just become so numb that I could never feel again.
I debated on it for days, and the more I debated the more I questioned what we were doing. I started to ask why I had to do things that I didn’t want to do. I started to get hurt from it. The guards and doctors don’t like being questioned, I learned.
I had turned 12 the day I left. I didn’t leave by my own hand or choice, we were freed. I suppose that’s where this all starts. Being freed.
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