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A teenage boy with black hair sat, on a rock beside a pond. He had practice swords his his hands, and blood ran down his face. Practicing was all he knew, he didn't even know why he was practicing, but he did. His was called, Darrin. That was the name his mother had given him, his dead mother. His convict father killed her, she had a beautiful voice. And a graceful posture, but she was the strongest person in the village and the most stubborn, his father second. Her name? Lorelei, his name? Cain. He killed her because of jealousy.

But, back to Darrin. Darrin wore a black short sleeve shirt with cut tight black jeans. The jeans were calf high, he also had black hightop shoes on, and he held a sword on his back. A sleek, metal blood-stained sword. He slet his feet slide on the rock and onto the dirt ground. He stood up and walked towards his training facility.

He had a little sister, that he called Xinny, but her real name was Xanaria. He opened the glass doors that lead into the facility, then walked right through and made Xinny follow him. After he had left the training grounds, he walked along the cobblstone path that lead to his house, where his sister, grandfather and he lived.

His cut and blister covered hands, stretched out to get hold of the doorknob. He turned it and the door creaked open, he took off his sword and placed on a shelf and continued on, and into the kitchen. He took a bowl from the cupboard and filled it with noodles. He gobbled them up quickly and brushed spices of of his shirt. He then walked down the hall and into his grandfather's room. He went over to his grandfather and said,

"So, where is the book?"​