The Sparrow

Chapter Two

The young boy stops behind the trunk of the tree nearest him, watching the three people ahead of him with curiosity. A dimple forms on the boy's left cheek as he smiles, watching his older brother with pride. One day, he wants to be just like that.

Little does he know, this will be the last time he smiles or ever wants to be anyone else again.

The group is being led by a tall man with long black hair that is held neatly back in an elastic, with the length of his raven colored locks reaching down to his shoulder blades. He wears a black band over his forehead with the outline of a raven engraved into the silver plate that covers his forehead, followed by one slash beside the bird to symbolize his ranking.

When the man turns his profile to Reza, his pale grey eyes scan the tree that he hides behind, unable to see his youngest brother hiding there. Reza knows him well enough to suspect that he might be able to sense him, though.

Tarsis and his squad mates are on a mission, and if Reza is seen shadowing them, he will surely be punished not only by his brother, but by his father, as well. An A ranked mission is no place for a twelve year old to be fooling around in the shadows. Getting in the way of the Elite would be looked upon as a sin in the village, but even if he were seen, Reza has no doubt that Tarsis would protect him from the wrath of their father.

Protect him, he thought.

The sun is beginning to set, casting an orange and red glow onto the three squad mates as they pause for a rest, having been running since this morning.

This always happens so fast, and no matter how bad he tries, Reza cannot change the outcome. And he's tried. He's tried so hard, but it stays the same one way or another.

One minute, the three are catching their breath in friendly silence, and the next Tarsis is drawing the sword from the scabbard on his back with silence of a predator.

Reza screams his brother's name but no sound leaves his lips as he watches from behind the tree, unable to make himself move.

Before the other two people have time to even touch their own weapons, they are both run through and left in puddles of their own blood.

Tarsis turns now, the blood of his friends smearing his face and dripping crimson from his sword. He smiles as he slowly comes towards his younger brother, stopping beside the tree that once concealed him from the eyes of others. Now he feels over exposed as his brother looks down at him with piercing gray eyes and a malicious grin.

"You should have stayed at home, little brother." He whispers, before arching his blade down upon the boy's neck.

Reza wakes with a start, flying upright in his bed. The small, dark apartment is filled with his ragged breathing, but these walls are all too used to seeing this happen and the neighbors are accustomed to hearing the scream of the name Tarsis in the dead of night.

Of course, they all know about Reza and his family, but none of them are ever brave enough to come check on the young man. Every morning the apartment is empty, so they always assume that he is alright and was simply having a nightmare.

On the rare occasion, there will be a casserole at his doorstep when he comes home, usually with a note attached, asking for the clean dish back and the apartment number of the owner. Never once does anyone ask him if he is okay, but he is alright with that. He wouldn't answer his door if anyone knocked, anyway. No one is allowed to see him so weak.

Reza slowly gains control of his breathing again, ignoring the thumping of a broom handle on the ceiling below him as he runs his hands over his sweat dripping face. A tickle runs down the hairs on his arm, drawing his attention to the pain that is evident in the area. Running his hand over the opposite forearm, Reza pulls it away smeared with a dark colored liquid. Frowning, he leans over to flick on his bedside lamp.