A childish hum reverberated softly in a small room, toy blocks tumbling softly against one another as short fingers flicked and carried them off to make up different images with only the available shapes. The pitter-patter of footsteps from afar followed shortly and a boy around the same age came sliding past the door before landing with a huge thump, banging his head against the floor. The girl continued with her activity, oblivious of the other child's accident.

"Ow ow!" He yelped.

"Oh in the name of Arland!" Yelled a motherly voice from another room. "Zevlin Hollan Sabian! Is that you I hear running upstairs again?"

"It wasn't me!" He cried out.

"Do not get me started again, young man!"

"Urg." He grunted, sitting up sulking as his younger twin twisted around curiously. He could almost hear their mother sighing.

"Are you okay, Zev?" She asked.

"I'm fine!" As if reminded of another fact, big, widened eyes blinked in excitement and a bigger body hunched over the smaller one to whisper. "Hey, Gen, I have a surprise."

A pair of identical eyes looked up at the prompt, curiosity obvious within the given gaze. Small hands reached up to pull the ear of the other, making the boy wince at the suddenness of the action.

Genevieve replied to her brother in a hush. "What is it?"

"Let go first!" He replied, wrenching off the tight grip she had on his ear. "I can't tell you here! It has to be a secret." Zevlin's eyes were narrowed with determination as though the whole thing had to be done without the knowledge of anyone else in exception for themselves.

"What? Tell me now." His younger sister insisted. "Zevlin . . ." She whined.

"Alright!" He exclaimed. "Just don't tell mom or dad yet, okay? I want to surprise them too!"

"Okay!" She enthusiastically replied.

Zevlin pulled Genevieve with him to drag her out of the house, passing by the kitchen to see their mother preparing dinner in the kitchen. Their father was waiting for meal to be served, his lips moving to form the words as he talked with his wife.

"I didn't want to go back to duty."

"Wouldn't it be a big loss?" Asked the woman. "Do you not want that promotion, after all?"

"It's a little sacrifice. I want to stay home and protect you and the kids. I've been gone for far too long I feel like my presence in this house has become too strange."

"The kids don't think that way."

"Even so . . ."

"You are a little bit strange, did something happen?" She asked.

"No. I was just thinking." He paused. "How about moving out for a while?"

"What? But you chose this home." She argued calmly.

As they both went past the door, their father quickly caught sight of their shadows and called out to them.

"You there lot!" He exclaimed. "Where are you two going?"

He was ignored as they continued, leaving him with a shake of his head.

"Those kids hadn't turned six and they're already a handful." His wife muttered a bit too loudly it could not be classified as such.

"They're an energetic bunch, I see. They take a lot after you, Genea." He stood and went over to her, giving her a small peck on the lips as he hugged her from behind.

"Me?" She laughed. "Zayeed, do you jest?"

The two kids stuck their tongue out as they peeked from their hiding place, disgusted at the display of affection their parents were performing. They both speedily ran out of the house, heading into the adjacent forest that was their sanctuary.

As soon as they got to a fallen, hollow log, Genevieve was the first to crawl inside. They managed to fit in due to their size and the space offered from within. After they were in the innermost spot, they both paused and the younger one was more than excited herself.

"What was your surprise, Zev?" She asked quietly.

"It's here."

"Can you show it to me now?"

"Shut it! This is hard to do so let me concentrate, alright?" He lashed at her, his impatience as clear as daylight.

Zevlin puffed out his cheeks as he held out his palm. It went on for a few minutes or so that Genevieve herself was starting to lose her patience waiting. As the girl opened her mouth to ask if he was ready, a small fire the size of a candle's flame jumped out of his palm.

"It's pretty." She reached out to touch it with the pad of her forefinger but Zevlin pulled it away from her reach.

"Don't touch it!" He said. "You can't touch this!"

She pouted. "Why not?"

"Because you can't. Only awesome people like father and me can do this."

"But mother can do good things too!" She argued.

"No!"

"Come on, Zev! Please!"

"No, uh-uh."

Genevieve reached for the fire stubbornly and Zevlin started crawling out of the hollow remain of the fallen tree. His sister quickly made a jump for him, following his movements with no hesitation. Although she stumbled and hurt her knee somewhere along the way, she continued to run after him. Zevlin was a little bit taller than her, so she had to reach up for it with all her might. The older twin continued to skip away, sticking his tongue out at her while further moving the fire out of her reach.

"Zevlin!" Genevieve cried, her tears starting to well up from her eyes. The blurry sight made her stumble over a rock and fall over, her smaller body landing over a heap of leaves. The gust of wind produced from her impact on the ground sent them flying all over, their dry and brown bodies covering her back on different spots. She sat up, sobbing.

The suddeness made Zevlin stop on his tracks and rush over. He was about to reach for Genevieve when he realized he still hadn't put out his fire. Still, he helped up his sister with his other hand and tried to put it out by opening and closing his palms.

"Urgh." When he looked down on his hand, the fire still hadn't gone out. "I can't kill it."

"Why do you want to kill it?"

"Because it's the same thing mother uses to cook!" He yelled at her. "It's really hot, right?"

"Oh." Realization dawned on the girl. "I thought it was a firefly!"

He smacked her forehead lightly. "Are you an idiot?"

"Ow." She pouted, her eyes watering.

"Stop crying!" He fumed.

"Father said it was a firefly." She whispered. "He made a really big one before."

"That's only because you kept on saying it was a firefly and he could do nothing but agree with you!"

"But fireflies are pretty and you made it look so pretty . . ." She trailed off. "It was so small and cute too."

Zevlin softened at that. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry. Here." He held it out to her. "But you can't touch it, okay?"

The look of amazement in her eyes made him smile. "Can I do that, too?"

"Maybe." He stuck his tongue out.

"Can you make it as big as father did?"

He hesitated at that. "I don't know."

"It'll stay cute and small forever, then?" Gen quipped.

"No!" He exclaimed. "Of course not."

He stomped his foot forward and threw his hand with the fire ahead of him with an open palm. He gave an accompanying scream, making Genevieve's eyes widen as a bigger flame jumped out of his hand. It landed on the foliage before them and lit up with a wild roar.

"Aah!" They both screamed.

Genevieve launched forward and hid behind her brother's back, watching as Zevlin started stomping on the fire to put it out. He wanted to catch the spreading flames with the sole of his boots, but it even ate away on the soles.

"Help!" Genevieve screamed. "Father!"

Water was splashed on the ground, completely extinguishing the flames. The younger of the twin was pulled from under the arms of her older brother. Zevlin's arm was grabbed and he was pulled forward.

Shocked, both looked up to see their father hovering above them. Zayeed had his son's wrist while he had his daughter sitting inside his arms. His eyes held no anger, but the sterness was palpable.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's dangerous playing this far off into the woods? There are demons on the loose."

"Demons?" Genevieve echoed. "But I thought they were locked up by King Friedel." She innocently recalled the stories she was told.

"Well, honey, some of them are bad enough to escape." He said. "So we have to be careful, alright?"

They both nodded.

"And you, young man." He addressed his son. "We have a lot to talk about."

Zevlin gulped.

"But, first let's go home." He cut in, smiling. "Meal is served and night's falling fast. We don't want to see demons now, do we?"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Father, what's for dinner?" Zevlin asked as they started walking for the direction of home.

"Well, I think you can smell it from here."

They both sniffed and the mouth-watering smell greeted their noses. The scent of cooking pot roast and buttered mashed potatoes were registered inside their heads and the image of their mother setting up the table for dinner instantly flashed in their imagination. Their stomachs rumbled at the thought and the water gathered under their tongues. Almost instantaneously, the urge to go home burst in their chest that both started hurrying their father.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!"

"Just wait a moment, alright?" He chuckled.

When they got to the foothold of their home, a small humble log house, they broke through the doors noisily. Their voices were loud and Genevieve's, in particular, was persistent. Zevlin showed his stubborness through action as he was relentless when pulling their father in.

"Hold up, children!" Their father hollered, laughing.

It had always been tranquil. Their home was surrounded by a thick forest, secluded from the noisy and busy city. Being used to no other people aside from themselves, both of the twins had been used to playing with each other and each other alone. Zayeed was out most of the time, serving his duty as Great General of the Red Legion, the well-known army of the Arlandian continent. He was the one who picked out their house and where it would be located. Being used to the chaotic affairs happening in the capital, he wanted none of it involving his family.

"Dinner's ready!" Genea called out.

Zevlin broke his hold on his father and ran straight for the dining room. Genevieve hammered her fist on her father's chest, insisting she be brought down. Zayeed did so calmly and lovingly, letting his daughter's feet touch the ground. As the young girl shuffled forward to follow her brother, she fell face first on the floor. When the man went forward to help his daughter, she got back up on her own with a throbbing nose and watery eyes. With a little bit of stumble in her steps, she walked slowly into the room, perhaps afraid of meeting another accident.

The hardheaded and stubborn, and the clumsy and innocent.

What a funny and amusing pair. What this two would become when they grow up? It was beyond Zayeed and Genea's imagination.

Zevlin had taken his seat, fork and knife in hand. He was literally drooling at the sight of the steaming food, yet, as he reached out to pluck a piece, his hands was swapped and he had to sulk in his seat until the two other members of the family got to their respective chairs.

"We thank the gods for this meal." They chorused.

Dinner started soon enough. Genevieve was clumsily picking on the food with her fork, attempting to scoop up the mashed potato to her mouth to no avail. As she successfully got one steadily sticking to her utensil, the moment she would pop it into her mouth, it would fall on her chest. The continuous process got her frustrated, eyeing her brother who was busily wolfing down his own share.

"Mother," she called out sadly. "Can you please help?"

They were trying to let her learn eating on her own, but they had to help her once in a while.

Genea reached out to pick up the fork. She scooped up a full bite and fed it to the girl.

"Is that better, dear?"

Genevieve nodded happily.

"So, I was thinking." Zayeed started. "Do you guys want to go and see the capital?"

"You mean that great big city where you say the lord is?" Zevlin excitedly asked.

"Yes, and his son, Lord Corvan, is only around your age. If you two would like, I can take you to meet him. His older sister's kind and beautiful too."

"We get to meet a prince?" Genevieve innocently questioned.

"He technically is one." He shrugged. "So, are you guys fine with that?"

The two looked to their mother for permission, their eyes as huge as a puppy dog's. Despite Genea being confused and against it somehow, she could not refuse the look she was given--not one but two.

"Alright."

"Yes!"

As the sweet atmosphere settled, the smile on Zayeed's face disappeared the next instant. A chill went up his back that it sent him standing from his chair, power-walking towards the windows, checking the outside surroundings dark with the night before drawing the curtains close.

His actions instilled fear into her wife's heart. "Is something the matter?"

The kids were eyeing him with equal confusion, wondering why their mother's face twisted all so suddenly with the emotion.

"Genea, I need you to go down the basement and take the kids with you." He went for the sheathed weapon hanging from the wall and drew it from the case. The glinting blade had Zevlin gawking at it with admiration.

The Great General's scimitar.

"Why?" She stood.

"Just please do it and do not leave until I say so."

"Zayeed . . ."

"Go. Now. I'll explain later."

Genea went around the table and ushered the kids, pushing on Genevieve's back to help her get off the chair. She motioned for Zevlin, who speedily got off on his own and ran for their father instead.

"Zevlin!" His mother exclaimed.

"Father, can I stay?" He asked.

Zayeed kneeled on one knee, his eye the same level as his son. "Maybe some other time, alright? You saw your fire?"

His eyes widened.

"When it gets bigger, I'll let you help me. For now, since you have fire, can you protect your mother and sister for me instead? That's a very big job fit for you. Is that fine?"

He steeled and gave his father a salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Zayeed gave his son a soft smile before his face hardened and he saluted. "I trust you, soldier."

Zevlin dashed for his mother and sister, who both stood waiting by the door. As soon as the child got to her, Genea headed to the basement and hurried the children down the stairs. She gave her husband one last look, the fear in her eyes evident.

"I'll protect you, I promise." His eyes seemed to say.

Taking his word for it, she turned her back against him and ducked under the trapdoor. Zayeed helped close it, spreading a carpet over to help in the covering. He then rushed outside the door, his weapon ready in hand and his muscles tense. The silence of the night had been utterly disconcerting, not even the crickets chirping.

"Come out, demon, wherever you are." He called out. "Your enemy is me."

"Well, yes, I presume you are. If that isn't already obvious." A voice echoed, and a person emerged from the thick line of trees. "Your name preceeds you, o Great General Zayeed Sabian. You even had the king put up a barrier around this house just for the safety of you and your family alone."

It was a man. Of course, that word was somehow not right. If he had to be specific, he would consider him a demon male. His eyes were a glowing pair of black, with a hint of grey and a ray of red. His skin was translucent that the veins were a visible blue, with a face that features of a sinful and pulchritudinous fallout. Long black hair fell on his chest, a messy explosion of ink.

Demons represented the earthly vices of men, the epitome of all iniquitous desires and temptation. They say falling to depravity and become one of their own would grant them their biggest wish, yet it only signified the taking over of innate instincts and being blanketed by the darkness for the rest of time--eternal damnation.

"Until now I cannot wrap my head around why you creatures desire so much trouble." He said, swinging down his blade.

He approached the general with slow steps, letting the moon further shed light on his physique. He was accoutred with battle-ready clothes, the provocative design exposing a V on his chest and down halfway to his stomach. It had a stiff collar and an open front--a long coat that fluttered around his long legs.

"And I cannot comprehend why you wear clothes that expose the skin around your weakpoint when you're supposed to be protecting them the most."

"Because it's more exciting that way." He said. "And as to why up until now you claim to not understand demonic sentiments, I shall have you fools know." His hands pulled out razor-edged blades sticking from both his sides. "But of course, just to give you a heads up, I brought something worthy of the great general's company."

A horde appeared behind him, glowing red eyes and a thick scent of miasma flowing heavily into the area. More demons stepped under the moonlight, exposing faces all too familiar with the man.

"Ah." Zayeed blocked out the rush of fear that coursed through his body. "So you're the reason why every demon I've ever locked up escaped. I knew this was coming. You've all came back for revenge?"

"Demons have always been called the trashes of Valemnia--uneeded. Have you ever heard of the adage though? All trash you throw shall one day come back to you. You threw out a lot trash, general."

He laughed in return. "I guess I should blame myself for not throwing the trash out properly."

With that, Zayeed jumped forward, his body flaming up with fire that ran down his arms and coated his blades. With a battlecry, he pushed himself to conquer the horde, determined to protect his family with all that he can.

The horde ran forward, the lead demon staying in place to watch the fight, a sinister smile curling up on his lips. "Valemnians and demons--light and dark. White and black. Just as how you creatures seek peace, we as much seek trouble. Just as much as you crawl towards the light, we continue to hide in the shadows. Do you still wonder why we like to make your lives hell? It's because we want to. We're not bound by rules or honor--we're only bound by our desires. And you know what we want now, o Great General?"

Zayeed lashed, kicked, jumped, and swung. He moved with the swiftness of a master swordsman, with the experience of a man of his position. In return, they growled and scratched and screeched at him, attacking him from all sides.

"We want revenge."

They circled him, relentless with their assaults. His fire kept them at bay, though it wasn't enough to keep them from completely harming him. His clothes were thorn and shredded, despite their resistance to fire. He bled along the sides, the blood further feeding his flames.

"United we stand, divided we fall. What is a general without his army? Despite your skills, you cannot fight a horde of demons with high ranks all on your own." The demon faked the sadness in his tone. "Fear not, good sir. We'll try to be hospitable--hospitable as much as we're despicable." His mirth was obvious. "With the rate you're going at, it's clear you can't do this alone. We'll bring out your family so you won't depart for the gates of the heavenly plane by yourself."

"Do--" he swallowed as he desperately fought. "--not touch my family!"

He spotted demons crawling towards his home. Left with no other choice, he drew his very last strength and threw his fist against the ground, roaring with all his might. The fire flared, running around their home in a protective circle that blocked out any entrance before spreading outwards in an explosive manner, coating the whole forest in nothing but fire and killing most of the demons attempting to enter the house. His fire lashed at the lead demon, but he moved not even an inch to avoid his flames. In fact, as it passed by him, it wasn't even able to touch a hair on his head. It avoided him like a plague.

"The ultimate great fire, huh? Unfortunately for my kind of demon, I'm fireproof." He gave the most nerve-grating smile before approaching the weakening man and bending down to gaze at him in the level of the eye, amdist the loud crackling and floating embers. "That move will drain your last reserve of strength and kill you off. It saves me the effort. Oh, and before you die, I'll tell you my name. It's Ryker."

"Damn you." Zayeed grunted.

"Uh-uh." The demon shook his finger. "You can't damn what already is damned." He erected his back and started walking towards the house. "If you'll excuse me, I have an entire family to kill."

The great general would not die like this, this were his thoughts. "Ilbes . . . zas vi derola, encanter oiul san dous vu elhon an gaud . . . alveira! Shen!"

Ryker stopped short at his words, wondering what they had been for. Even so, as soon as he dropped dead at the exhaustion of his energy, the demon regained his composure.

"You could've lived. Dumb fool." He huffed, walking through the sea of fire like it was nothing and approaching the house casually as though he was walking on clouds. "Well then," he pulled on the collar of his clothes like he was fixing his image before knocking. "Good evening! I'm a demon and I just killed your husband or father or whatever you wish to call him! You'll be coming after him soon so do please open the door."

He paused with a stupidly huge smile on his face, waiting for the sound of the shuffling feet and the noisy knob. When he heard nothing, he sighed. "Oh, how stupid I am. Of course they won't open!" Ryker laughed, then kicked it open that the door was broken down. It hit the floor with a bang, startling the kids who were hiding below. "Helllooo! Is anyone home?"

He trod through the house, studying the images hanging off in frames. The inner walls were painted a soft creamy yellow and the furnitures were arranged in a way that it did not crowd the room too much. It was a cozy place that he felt envious.

"This place is so comfortable!" Ryker exclaimed but stopped short. "But it doesn't feel quite right."

He kicked the couch over, threw the vases on the floor that they shattered, knocked over the tables, and messed up the whole thing that it ended up chaotic. He cackled.

"Thereee! That's sooo much better! Now, what was I at again? I'm getting short-term memory." The demon, Ryker, paused to think of what he was supposed to do. "Oh right! I'm sorry, I rearranged your house a bit. Now where are youuu?" He singsang.

Zevlin and Genevieve cowered in the corner of the basement they were forced to hide in, tears staining their cheeks. Sniffs and loud breaths echoed, panicked with surpressed tears. Their mother was desperately trying to quiet them, her fingers shaking and the fear splattered on her face like red paint on a white wall.

"Shh." Genea told them, before moving as quietly as she could. She left the kids momentarily to stand, her forefinger flat against her lips despite how much they reached out for her.

She turned up her chin to peek between the gap between the floorboards, looking for the demon who was in their home.

"I'll count to ten!" He exclaimed. "Or make that five. If you don't come out until then, your throats will be bent!" He chorused, his words eerily rhyming. Ryker then twisted, as though sensing presence. "Hahaha!"

Genea nervously reached for a bar of metal with the radius of her finger, positioning it on her shoulder. Just as she peeked back between the gaps, the demon had been gone from where she last saw him.

Where had he gone?

An eye met hers within only an inch of proximity, peeking right back at her. It was black as darkness accompanied by the dark laugh resembling nails scratching a blackboard. "I found youuuu! I found youuuu! I FOUND YOUUUU!"

His hand broke through the wood and caught Genea right at the throat. She twisted to gaze at her children, her eyes filled with apology that she was letting them witness this. The floor was broken apart and she was pulled up. In spite of her helplessness, the woman bravely jammed the tip of the metal at the demon, piercing his right eye. He screamed.

"Hurt. Hurt. Hurt." Liquid darker than red to be classified as blood trickled down his face as he forcibly removed the metal from his eye. He covered half his face with his hand as he ran for the woman he accidentally let go off. She was making haste trying to help her children escape. He threw his claws forward that it went through her stomach, blood coating his fingers as it got out to the other side.

Genea flew short of breath, her mind registering the pain too late. She slumped against the ground the moment Ryker withdrew his hand, finding herself helpless she started swimming in a pool of her own blood.

Zevlin and Genevieve were both horrified, their eyes on the verge of falling out of their sockets. The older of the twins went red with anger, flames flying off his skin in a way that it burned his clothes. Genevieve hid behind him, covering her ears from the traumatic scene.

"Mother . . ." She bawled. "Mother . . ."

The demon looked beyond insane as he laughed. "Oh, the brat's like his father, huh?" He put his arm forward to grab him. "Your fire won't work on me." Just as he made contact with the child, the smell of burning flesh permeated the air and the sharp pain that came after made him jump back. He gazed down at his melted skin, enraged. "How . . . how . . . I cannot be burned by fire . . . how . . ."

Ryker was dubious of the image that stood behind the child he saw the next second. It was the great general he had mocked just a while ago, yet see-through. His hand was on his son's shoulder and they both burned with the same flame. The combined power brought up a hotter fire--it was the color of blue.

"One flame is not enough." Zevlin's voice reverberated with his father's deep ones. "Maybe two flames will be. You may be fireproof, but not firesproof."

"This is not possible! How did you--" he paused. "His last incantation in the Ancient Language before he died. Did this serve its purpose? What a smart bastard."

"Oltamuro des fien ale vu jonam sul." Zevlin made a grab for his sister's hand, encouraged by the movement of their father's soul and the fire around him got wilder. "Fear not, my child."

"Father?" Genevieve drawled out, warry of the flames licking her skin.

"My fire will not hurt you." They said together. "You both will be protected until the time comes." There was a pause. "I love you both. Your mother and I do. I'm sorry I could not protect you all properly."

Both knelt on one knee, their actions synonymous and the same. Gen, however, saw their father alone.

"Won't you give me a hug?" He asked.

The child ran up to his arms, full of trust and hope. The moment she got to him and wrapped her little arms around his neck, a ball of fire coated them both, wrapping them in a protective shell. Ryker was hopeless as he roared, the ball of fire covering the two bursting with power and activity. He desperately tried to get away, his hand clawing for the exit and his feet clammering to carry him as fast as they could.

It would take no fool to realize what was about to happen. If he wasn't wrong, this was a modified version of the move he pulled a while ago.

"I have to leave! I have to leave!" He said to himself.

Within moments, a huge explosion echoed. A pillar of light rose to the sky and stirred the clouds with its sheer power before disappearing in a flash. The entire vicinity within a mile was draped with pure light, the fire floating in the air like a nuclear explosion. It then retreated and revealed that everything it covered had been burned down to ashes.

It didn't take days for the incident to be discovered. The area was scouted and the king himself had come out to investigate on the matter. Nothing was found the first few hours--not even the remains of a house. There was only a scorched land, a sword, and a ball of fire that revealed two children asleep within.

The Great General of the Red Legion had fallen, but he left behind the mark of the great fire that reassured he did not back down without a fight. Two, live children and a mile of scorched lands.

Unfortunately for all, the older of the twins had lost his memory, and with it a great power.