Every world has a savior.

Inevitably, at one point in a world’s history, one person, one being stands above the rest to protect all that is good and righteous in that world when it is threatened by the darkness and abyss. Even this world, one of little renown or clout, a world of wonder blessed with power and cursed by ambition, was given someone to light the way. And this world’s savior was a boy—born of two nations and destined to change the course of all that is, and will be, in their world. 

His name was Zenji. 

His life down this path began on a summer day, warm wind flowing through the air. He had two caring parents who stood by him and were there for each precious moment of his early life, like his first step. The day he took that step, his mother, Lost Princess of the Empire, Control, was there to catch the little boy. 

He took that step on the morning of the great Exodus of Progress, a country fleeing to better lands, in the city that would one day be known as the Ruins of Progress.

The morning sun shone through the window onto the child as he fell just as a soft hand caught him in his failed step. Zenji’s mother picked him up and held him close, her eyes shut, taking in the moment with her baby. She opened her eyes and started playing with Zenji’s little hands, then held him out in front of her. His eyes bounced between her and her hands, a confused look glazing over his eyes. He then focused on his mother’s black hair as it waved in the wind from the open window, flowing across her light-tan skin as well. 

“My dear, where is the travel pack we set aside earlier?” Gordel, Zenji’s father said. Gordel was a simple man, having fled to Progress at a young age seeking knowledge and understanding, where he eventually met Zenji’s mother who had done the same. 

Zenji burped slightly in his mother’s arms. “It was in the antechamber, on the red couch.” She reached for a small cloth and wiped away the white mess on her arm. 

Gordel sighed, semi-short brown hair falling to rest on his bearded cheek, light skin poking through. “What would I do without you, my love?” Gordel rushed past Belei to fetch the pack. Zenji began to cry, somehow seeming to be wary of the danger outside.

A loud crash sounded downstairs.

The servants began to scream as glass and wood broke, their shrill cries slowly fading away in their fleeting run. Their shouts of pain declared their deaths one by one. Belei closed her eyes, scrunching them tight until they hurt as she listened to her friends and servants die below. She felt helpless, knowing she could do nothing. They had more important things to be done. The lives of countless peoples depended on it.

“How did they find us?” Gordel asked, voice quiet. Belei placed a soft hand over Zenji’s mouth to quiet him. In response, he gnawed on her fingers like a chew toy.

“This is our home, after all, dear.” Belei said. Gordel sighed and nodded his head. He motioned for them to move towards the open window to the left. 

Belei thought to herself, Remember why we’re doing this.

They walked in silence towards the window ledge. Then, the wood floor board under Gordel’s foot creaked. Invaders downstairs began to move. The two rushed to the window and began to climb through the opening, Belei moving slowly with Zenji in arms. 

On the flat roof outside the window, the two huddled below the outside sill, not enough time to climb down the vine-covered wall and down to the street below. Gordel and Belei looked at each other in collective fear, then they looked down at Zenji, who was smiling. 

A shout sounded from within the bedroom followed by heavy footfalls.

“Where are they?” A rough voice said.

“Don’t look at me!” Another voice said, softer and younger. “You said storming the stupid Princess’ house was a good idea!”

“I—wait.” The rough-voiced speaker began to move towards the window, just as Zenji giggled. 

“What in Pan’s name—”

“They’re outside the window!” The rough voice said, just before taking a bullet to the neck and dropping from the open window. The body slid down the roof’s edge into the street in a bloody mess. A soldier in green stood over the corpse.

“Yoka!” The younger voice yelled and ran to the window. He barely dodging a bullet and retreating farther into the house. 

“Gordel! Is that you?” The soldier said. 

Gordel stood up and looked down to the street.

“Curon! Thank Pan you were passing by!” Gordel said. The two moved to the vine and climbed down, Belei and Zenji first. Curon helped Belei down, Gordel dropping to his feet shortly after. 

The street out from the wall spread in each direction to the side. On the right, it curved out of sight and headed up a hill. The left led down at a slant towards a small body of water which spilled into the harbor barely seen from there. A few homes sat across the cobble street from their home, obscuring the view of the harbor in that direction. The alley between the other homes and theirs was nearly nonexistent, wide enough for only a single rat to run, but there were no alleys on the opposite side of the street, houses built right up next to each other. 

The three of them began to walk down the slanted street that eventually led to the harbor. 

“Weren’t you and your family supposed to be on the first Migration Boat?” Curon said. “What are you doing still in the city?” His brown hair bobbed under the green military hat in his exaggerated movements. 

“I can’t talk about that right now. King Dulardor has his reasons.” Gordel said.

Curon sighed. “Well, I’m assuming by the pack on your back that you are heading there now. Correct?”

Belei nodded.

Curon sighed again. “Very well. I’ll grab some of my sergeants to—”

An arrow rammed point first into the wood door behind Curon, hat and a tuft of long hair in tow. 

“Son-of-a hog!” Curon brought a hand to his bleeding scalp where the missing tuft had been. He raised his pistol to the window where the arrow had come from and pulled the trigger, hammer slamming into the back of the chambered bullet. The gun shot echoed between the buildings. Zenji began a tirade of cries in response.

“It had to be my hair.” Curon said. The young boy from earlier fell next to the first corpse down the street.

“We need to get you a doctor!” Belei said, bouncing Zenji in her arms to calm him. 

“No, we need to get out of here, dear.” Gordel said.

“My scalp will heal. But not my hair. My poor hair…” Curon said. Then, the group began to move down the street towards the docks. It was a slower pace as they tried to find the fastest route to the harbor. Zenji made soft sounds that sounded like popping bubbles with each step they made. Curon looked at the baby then gestured for them to hurry.

“Someone will have heard that shot.” Curon said. He pulled out a black box with a stick out the top and clicked the button on the side. “Start, Captain Curon requesting assistance conveying citizens to Migration Boats. Under Destruction arrow-fly, end.” 

Gordel started. “Are you talking into that?” Curon only nodded. 

“What does the start and end mean, Curon?” Belei asked. Zenji cried again but was quickly silenced by their jogging.

“It’s military communication jargon. We needed a way to indicate the beginning of a transmission to allow the opposite side direction in when to respond. It also makes things a bit clearer. These things can get kind of hard to understand sometimes. Personally, I don’t like how we do it. Sounds odd to me.”

“Why?” Belei asked again.

“Questions later, my dear.” Gordel said.

Curon smiled. “Not that I don’t mind, but we also don’t want to die.” Another arrow flew past the three and baby and skidded across the paved street, slamming harmlessly against the stone foundation of a shop. 

Curon turned and fired a few shots, a pained scream following. 

“When did you get so good at shooting, Curon?” Gordel said.

“When I needed to grow up as a Captain.” Curon said. “I couldn’t be the troublemaker we were as kids anymore.”

The device fuzzed to life, a somewhat muffled voice coming out of it. “Start, Captain Curon, this is Sergeant Flauk. I’m bringing my squad now. Position? End.” 

“What do they call those things?” Gordel asked. He shoved open a door to a shop on the street and the group entered.

“A radio.” Curon pressed the button and talked into the device. “Start. Possibly pinned down in a…” he paused to look at the room they had entered, “…a bakery. Oh, it’s Jolin’s on tenth. Destruction archers are following us. Unknown how many, end.” 

“I’m surprised I have yet to hear of a radio.” Gordel said.

Curon shrugged. “They’re new. Really new. The Exodus is the first implementation of them since their invention.”

The radio buzzed. “Start. Understood. T.A, ten. end.” 

“TA? What’s—” Belei said. 

“Time of arrival.” Curon said, slightly annoyed. “You do ask a lot of questions, Belei.”

She scowled. “I only asked two questions, just like my husband did. Besides, questions drive progress. Is that not what Progress in its essence teaches to its people?”

Gordel laughed.

“Well, yes, but—” Curon cut off. Another arrow slammed into the front door, an inch from the glass. Then another through the glass window in the door, ramming into Gordel’s leg. 

Gordel screamed, going down hard on the wood-plank floor with a thump. The shaft of the arrow sprouted from each side in his leg below the knee in the calf.