Sup. Been a while hasn't it. It's me your resident Writing Evil. From this point on the story will be drastically different as I rewrote it this past November. Updates will be monthly because I am extremely lazy and I am trying to get a job. If you have any suggestions feel free to ask them here or message me on tumblr under the username WritingEvil. Thank you for your patience with this story. 

This world is not like the one you are reading from. Your world has developed. You have electricity and lawyers and modern instruments. Your world judges people on different attributes than this one. While you look at skin color, body weight, and height, this world judges people by the shape in black formed on their forehead at birth. At the height of it all, are Squares, the perfectly sided quadrilaterals. Squares sit in the lap of luxury, they are kings and queens, CEO's and mayors, the patrons. Next are the Rhombi. Rhombi are managers and organizers devoted to their Square patrons. They play the roles of doctors, physicians, and advisors The fighters are triangles, used not only for enforcement but also entertainment for the other classes. Triangles can often be trained as gladiators from young ages. Rectangles get the jobs no one wants. The lucky ones get their own shops and stands; the unlucky are left with custodial, agriculture, and menial labor jobs. 

Then there are the people born unmarked. Their skin is clear of the shapes. There is something wrong with them, they're disgusting. These markless people live on street corners, begging for scraps. Unmarked are criminals and bandits. They live in camps outside of civilized society. Bandits will thieve and steal from anyone. Occasionally markless camps will receive generous gifts from the kind square patrons but they never thank them.

In this society, there is a single king that rules over every patron. He controls taxes and food distribution and sends triangles out on missions to take out anyone who disagrees with him. He is nameless and faceless to his subjects.  

One day in the late fall nights a child was born into a square family. When the mother saw the bare forehead of her child, she tossed it to the rectangle maid. The maid was shouted at and forced to toss the baby out of the two-story window. The mother shouted that the baby would be better off dead. The maid hurried to the window and whispered a prayer before dropping it. 

The infant, not five minutes after their first breath, the world still just a blur of light, dropped out of the window. Lights disturbed its small eyes and it wailed. A hooded figure caught the child carefully and ran a gloved finger down its face. The child fell to a soft and gentle slumber. The figure tucked the child and calmly walked out of the city and straight into the forest. Eventually, its feet struck a calm path. The infant woke and wailed, tired and hungry. The hooded figure continued down the path eventually reaching a tall gate with fires burning at the top. As the figure came upon the path, the roaring fires flickered and went out. The heavy wooden door flew open and the gathered camp looked up from their own fires and merriment. An aging woman stood and bowed respectfully to the figure. The hooded figure nodded before extracting the now quiet infant, fast asleep. The woman took the child slowly and raised it above her head. 

"Amelia of the fallen moon!" Her shout echoed through the camp. They echoed back. A new child, a new tragedy. 

Across the river and through a forest in a small house owned by a family of rectangles an unmarked woman is waiting in a shed hidden from the triangles searching her husbands house for her and her recently born baby. A soft knock came from outside the shed and the woman opened the door slowly. A hooded figure led her away to safety and calm fell over the woman. She and her baby followed it. The sleeping girl laid in her mother's arms and her mother looked down eyes immediately drawn to the mark that had made her daughter a target. This mark marked her as strange and different. This mark would require her to always be careful. She wondered if her daughter would ever truly be safe. With a circle on her forehead was she ever going to live a full and happy life?