The voice echoed hollowly in Neil's head. The dark, bloodstained wood of the orphanage floor was cold against his cheek as he lay limply on the floor. Raindrops fell from the charcoal sky above them, slipping between the struts supporting the hole-riddled roof and soaking the figures littering the floor around him. Small rays of light whispered through the gaps in the roof, providing the barest form of illumination for the room and glinting coldly off the harsh steel boot in front of him. Rivulets of crimson streamed and puddled as the rainwater drew the fresh blood from the parched wood, trickling through the floorboards to the cellar below where dry provisions were usually stored.

"Is this the last one?" A harsh, baritone voice cut through the silence of the rain, punctuated by the sharp clack of metal on stone outside. Neil could barely make out the man in the doorway: a black cape fluttered around his shoulders, silvery boots and gauntlets gleaming in the scant sunlight, and shadow concealing his face and features.

"Yes." The sinister tenor response wound its way, lingering a little too long in Neil's ears, from the individual standing above him. Neil forced himself to look up, meeting the cold gray of the man's eyes. Every action caused waves of unbearable pain to pulse through his body. The action caused blackness to encircle his vision, a loud ringing in his ears drowning out other conversation and sharpening the pain brought by the biting breeze blowing through the open door. His head fell back to the ground, his breathing ragged.

Do you want power?

The voice was louder this time, more insistent- a chorus of tones and harmonies from a single, almost divine, source.

Even at the tender age of ten, Neil could tell that he was dying. His senses were slowly leaving him, and even if the men left him alive, he wouldn't survive his injuries.

He would be following his soft mother, taken too soon by an untreated cold which had blossomed into fatal pneumonia. He would be following his stouthearted father, executed at the whims of a noble when the hunting trip he was guiding yielded no suitable game. He would be following the other children whom he had played with and protected over the last few years- slaughtered alongside the orphanage administrators and scattered alongside Neil on the floor. He would be following them all without even a small blessing to guide him on his way to the afterlife. But... that wasn't fair. He still wanted to do things- learn swordsmanship, protect someone for once, grow up to be someone who could rescue people in his current situation.

Do you want power?

Yes.

Even if it costs you everything?

Neil didn't know what the voice meant; he had already lost everything. Time slowed around him as he tried to understand the voice. He had no parents, home, or friends; he had nothing. With the last trickle of strength in his small body, he made his decision.

I have nothing to lose. I want to live.

There was a brief pause as Neil's world grew dark. He thought he heard a small snicker as his hearing faded, and the voice responded to him for the last time.

So be it.