Aaron Thillman gulped as he was handed a large sack of an unknown substance, and was asked to throw it into the Shendar's face, before stealing his cane by the man with the metal hound helm. He didn't know how to do this, being only eight, and didn't know the ins and outs of theft as he had simply gotten by through begging alone before this after all, but before he could question further the Hound-Helmed Man told him of the price. 200 coins, an amount he could only dream of in his life as a beggar. Aaron hastely accepted, quickly grabbing the sack and heading off to find his fortune, and find his target. How hard could it be to do such a task after all? The young child shuffled through the Slums, heading for the Emporium, and heading for his fate.
When he finally got to the Emporium there was bickering and fighting amongst the Slum dwellers, who growled and barked like angry dogs to one another...but his focus was less on them and more on the target. A Shendar with a crutch...and all he needed to do was get it, and throw the powder into the mans face. He approached slowly, stopping in front of the man, whom had two people beside him, two more Shendar. The Cane-Wielder looked down upon the boy, raising an eyebrow at him when Aaron showed him the sack, gesturing for him to look closer. The Cane-Weilder obliged moving closer before having the dust thrown into his face, causing him to yelp in confusion and pain as the burning sensation raced across it. Aaron, seeing this as a way in, quickly went to grab the cane and tug it loose...yet the Shendars grip was stronger, keeping a tight hold on the cane, trying to grasp ahold of the dagger at his hip. Aaron hadn't noticed this, throwing more powder at the man before he was struck by the blade, slicing his arm. He let out a shrill yelp, finally causing one of the two Shendar to finally notice...yet they did nothing, watching the commotion gleefully as Aaron continued to tug away at the cane. It was so loud, with he shouting and such of the others, continuing their row even as the battle ensued, not even paying the little fight any mind....but a sudden pause allowed him to hear the shhk and the cold feeling. He looked down, noticing the blade in his stomach. He let out a little yelp in pain...staggering backwards shakily and falling to the floor, holding his bloody wound as it poured out quickly, seeping into his clothes and making them a fine crimson. Everything was going quiet, cold and black...and he was so scared. There was so much pain. No one noticed but for the other Shendar, who finally noticed once he was on the floor, and another healer, who both quickly rushed to his aid, to his rescue. He let out small shrill yelps of pain before he stopped moving, eyes towards the blue sky and the pain ceased, though the healers quickly bickered and grabbed him up, taking him away to help him.
The two healers quickly rushed him somewhere quieter, bickering and growling at one another as they fought for who should save the boys life, and the way they did it. After a while The Shendar brashly decided to begin attempting to bind the wound with her bonding ability, and successfully did so, with pain and determination. Yet, if it worked, why were his eyes still cold, and his pupils small? Why was his face so pale, and stonelike? Why did he not move, and not even scream or yelp from the bonding, or from the pain from his wound? All he did was lay still on the dirty, cold floor...was he sleeping? Sleeping with his eyes open to see the world as he rested? No...fate had not been kind to the small child that day...and had decided it was time to take him somewhere else. Eight and taken from the world by the anger and hatred of a cane-weilding Shendar, his life like the flickering flame of a candle finally going out and turning into smoke rising upwards. The Shendar shook him to try and reawaken that flame, yet this did not work. No tinder could reawaken his former light. She closed his eyes and slowly picked him up to take him to his former master to see what to do next.
His body was slowly carried to the Hound-Helmed man, whom was his master, who buried him with his bare hands next to his home-base, sadness and sorrow in his eyes as he did so. He thought of him as a son, and despite this he had ordered him to do something which, in the end, had caused his death...and so now he lay in the dirt, cold and alone in the world. He had failed him. That moment, as her vision remained on the little body, Jaeyna awoke from her slumber, breathing heavily, a sweat dripping off her face, fear in her eyes as tears rolled down her face. That dream couldn't have been real. Her son couldn't be dead...could he? She couldn't handle to lose a son as well as a husband, another love gone from her life. After a while of staying up she knew what she needed to do...she needed to go home to Regalia, return to find her son, to make sure it was just a dream, and not a terrible truth. She had been on this road too long and it was time to say goodbye to her husbands resting grounds and to give her son the life he deserved. A sad tale it was, that she didn't know that her dream was the truth...and fate had betrayed both her and the boy that day.
