This was the only thought that trumpeted like a chorus inside my mind, equal only to that holy, angelic, and handsome face that stood only several feet from me. The boy wore a concerned but still joyous thin smile that radiated kindness like a fountain.

      “Are you okay?” The boy repeated, his voice sounding a bit feminine but I didn’t care, it was there and I was hearing it and witnessing the boy’s beauty. The boy’s eyes left mine and immediately exploded in surprise and concern. “Crick! Your hand! We need to get that bandaged! Dad!” He would call out. I didn’t quite perceive the words the boy was saying, only that his voice rang out and sounded angelic. “Can you stand?” The boy would ask, moving to crouch next to me, sitting on his haunches, grabbing my wrist and quickly pulling a small towel out of a satchel resting on his side and would press it against my hand.

      “Crick! That hurts!” I would sit up, yelping loudly. The sharp and sudden pain of the towel pressing against my hand shot me up from my trance. I would nod and hop up quickly, wincing as I stood. I was now about a foot from the boy who was nervously looking towards the cabin behind him and the bleeding hand cupped in his hands.
    “Wow… his hands are rough, callused, just like mine. But they are so warm and gentle. He has a soot smudge on his cheek and his shirt is dirtied. His hair looks like an angel’s, as gold as his smile.” Thoughts rushed through my mind as I kept my gaze on the boy tying my hand with the towel tightly. The pain once again brought me back into reality.
    “Yeah? What’s wron- oh! Who is this?” An aged and coarse voice sounded from the steps of the cabin. I turned my head to identify the voice and standing on the stairs was a man of about six feet. He wore basic clothing with large, black gloves and tall, thin boots and his hair looked about as dirty and rough as the rest of his body. His face looked like he was mid 30’s but his graying, wispy hair and wrinkles said otherwise. It looked originally brown but was turning gray throughout. He had a pair of strange bronze goggles resting on his forehead that looked very mechanical. In his heavily gloved hands was a heavy looking box.

      He had a kind face and an even kinder smile. I saw the first relations between the man and his son, both were pale, the boy more so, both had sapphire eyes and both had nearly the same smile.

      “He just tumbled down the hill and his hand was really badly cut-what do we do?” The boy would start to panic slightly. The man laughed and placed the box down with a grunt before walking over, pulling his gloves off as he did.

      “Let me see the wound-” He would say as the boy pulled the towel away. My palm was covered in dark blood, though most of it had been absorbed into the towel. The man examined it closely before chuckling. “Do not worry son, this wound is not bad, it is bleeding heavily but it is not a deep cut, I call this a bleeding cut. With some sewing and bandages, he should be fine within a week or two.” He would instruct as he pressed the towel on again. “Let’s go sit down.” He would say, turning on his heel and walking slowly but efficiently because of his slender body and his stretched legs.

      “Y’know, the wound isn’t that ba-” I began to protest, stopping as the boy began to speak.

      “It is, this is really bad for you-it can make you really sick and damage the wound even more without proper treatment.” The boy would worryly cut me off, his eyebrows knit together as his sapphire eyes kept leaping back and forth from my face to my hand, to the towel, and back to the cabin. His hands were still cupped around mine as he walked, leading me along, closer to the large, wood and brick cottage.

      We made it inside and my first thought was:

      “Who are these people?” My eyes leapt throughout the room, flying across the massive rows and shelves covered in all sorts of strange tools and gears and pieces of very strange machinations. There were desks along the walls that were covered in small machines and gears and wires and tools and everything mechanical that I had ever seen, plus more. The boy tugged me along and we sat down in a basic, somewhat small room with a table in the middle of it. There were a few small boxes sitting on top of each other that rested calmly on the beautifully crafted, round table. 

      The boy and I sat down, the boy still applying pressure. The entire time I did not blink, my eyes were cracked open as they found many new things to examine and remember. This room looked like a kitchen mixed with a dining room. There were drawers and shelves along the walls and cutting boards and pots and a compact brick fireplace that was crackling calmly, the flames licking at a dark cauldron that was slightly bigger than most of the pumpkins at Old Man Barren’s farm. The easiest word to describe these two was messy and chaotic.

      The man came back into the room with a small box with contents inside it under his arm. Inside the box were an array of bandages, ointments, and potions. The man would move a box that sat on one of the benches and took a seat, placing the box on the table.
    “So, what is your name?” The old man would say as he pulled the bloody towel off of my hand, it was stinging constantly.
    “Uh, Caiden, sir” I answered promptly, watching the boy get up and nervously walk over to a sink and begin to scrub the blood from the white towel.

      “Caiden, a noble name- it means ‘The Clever One’ in Crae, right?” He would raise a thin eyebrow as he worked on my hand, washing it off and then working on the process to clean and sew it.

      “Yeah, I think so, my mom named me that because my grandfather was named that as well, or something like that-my dad doesn’t talk about her much” I spoke, my mind silently cursing itself. Why did I share that, we never talk about her.

      “Oh, yeah, we are similar. Ezra doesn’t like talking about his mother very much, not ever since she died. I have accepted it, but I don’t think he has yet.” The older man would smile gently, but there was a deep pain hidden in those bright sapphire eyes, hidden quickly by that bright and accepting smile. “Oh, goodness, I am sorry, I completely forgot- my name is Theon Greyhawk, it is good to meet you.” He would blabber out, smacking his forehead lightly, chuckling at his own forgetfulness. “I am growing older, and my mind is slowing; sadly, unlike the gears I work with, oil will not increase productivity.”

      Theon and I chuckled at this. His name is Ezra, Angel in Virianese. I began to feel my face warm as I grinned giddily and excitedly. I knew his name now, I knew the beautiful name that fit that beautiful face.

      “You love someone you just met?” That cruel and sadistic voice I knew so well echoed from the deep recesses of my mind, resounding in my thoughts. I immediately froze, my grin quickly fading into a frightened frown. “Are you okay Caiden? You seem a little… frozen” It snickered gleefully at my terror.

      “No, no, not again, get out! You shouldn’t be here!” My thoughts screamed at the intruder who had once again wormed into my mind. The voice simply chuckled, that recognizable deep and horrible chuckle that shook each of my bones.

      “C’mon Caiden, we’ve talked about this, so how about you stop trying to stop who you know you are and let me take control, I can make everything bet-”
    “No! Get out! I know you can’t! I-I know you are lying! Get out!” I quickly interrupted, my voice, shaking and worried, yelled back at the calm tempest that sat coolly inside the back of my mind, lounging upon Its beautiful throne of lies as if It owned every part of my mind.

      “Caiden? Caiden? Are you okay?” A muffled and concerned voice questioned, softly tapping my clouded consciousness. My breath grew deeper and more powerful, quicker and rougher. I knew someone was speaking to me, but I was preoccupied with It.

      “Caiden? Caiden? Wake up, or not, I don’t care, as long as you eventually come back here,” The voice taunted, snickering at my growing terror and worry. “You have the strength, so why don’t you g-” The vile voice cut off as I heard that voice, the voice of that angel-the voice of Ezra.

      "Caiden? Are you okay? Do you need water?” I felt my thoughts and consciousness rocket back into place, away from that fog, that lying, vicious, evil and dark fog and away from It. I felt the air rush back into my body as I gasped loudly and my entire body collapsed out of my chair. I felt myself slam into another body as I crashed to the floor, cushioned by something soft, yet firm. 

      I started blinking rapidly as the light fixed itself again and quickly noticed my breath had emptied, leaving my lungs empty, heaving for release. I pushed himself up and my eyes met those of the highly surprised Ezra who was laying on his back, his hands on the ground as he pushed himself up slightly. I would quickly realize that I was laying on top of the taller Ezra.