Phainon

"You'll reach that dawn won't you, Khaslana? For your big sister."

The pink-haired girl said as she smiled down sweetly at her younger brother. His golden hair and matching golden eyes made him look like he was a piece of the shining sun above their heads, walking around on this mortal plane giggling and laughing without a care in the world.

The older sister reached out, stroking her little brother's cheek gently. As if her touch were too rough, the young boy would shatter into a million shards. "I mean it little brother. Become a su-u-un b-brighter t-t-than anyo-o-one c-can h-h-handle.."

The young girl's voice breaking up like an old faulty record in a record player. Her appearance started to glitch as if she were a computer screen that got corrupted by some virus. Red and black flashing pixels flashed before his vision repeatedly.

"K-khasl-lana"

A broken voice left her lips before her neck bent to the side with a loud crack sounding throughout the space around her. Radiant purple orbs that were once so bright with life are now lifeless and empty. Looking straight at the golden-haired boy, sending shivers down his spine at how dull the eyes that reminded him of amethyst gemstones had become in a blink of a eye.

Pink hair matted and stained in a deep maroon hue as the girl's fragile body hit the grassy ground that she was standing tall and proud upon just seconds ago.

The boy just stood there as his surroundings slowly changed around him. The constant flashing of red and black made his eyes sting and burn in his sockets. His stomach felt upset and like he was going to puke at any given moment, as once bright fields of golden wheat and green grass turned to smoldering ash around him.

Only in the midst of the flames that were quickly swallowing him whole, the flares were bound to feed whatever was left of him after the blaze to the belly of the beast. Did he then realize he was surrounded by various dark figures. Cloaks and masks covered their identities, bound to remain a mystery until they were ripped away from their disguises and laid bare before the god they so called worship.

Before he even realized it, the boy was running through the flames. His tiny bare feet were padding quickly against the ash-turned fields. The warm, welcoming light of the sun had become an eerie red, casting its haunting gaze upon the earth. Ignoring the exhaustion that coursed throughout his body as he reached the woods. He was met with the eerie sight of the mangled bodies of his loved ones, all hung up and scattered as if they were ornaments on a Christmas tree that the young boy used to love decorating with his parents and older sister.

Thorns sinking into delicate porcelain skin. As he felt the presence of people behind him, quickly catching up as terror and horror swallowed him whole, he quickened his pace. A track of bloody footprints left in his wake from his blistered heels that stomped against the ground with each step he took.

No matter how much he ran, a lamb couldn't escape slaughter for long. As the cloaked shadowy figures caught up to him. Their hands grabbing at his arms and ankles. Golden hair being pulled to knock him off balance and pull him back, making the young boy wince in pain as he was dragged to the ground. Dirt and ash staining his clothes and unblemished skin.

Fingers dug into the dirt. Clawing at the ground, trying to stop the figures from dragging him away. Dirt and grime getting under his well-trimmed and kept fingernails in the process.

Just as he was about to crawl away, he saw a pair of familiar sandals standing in front of him. Causing the young golden-haired boy to look up just to see the mangled body of his older sister standing before him. Blood was dripping down her once cheerful expression that was now emotionless, her neck still bent at that odd abnormal angle.

K-Khaslana...W-Why..Why did y-y-you let yourself get caught i-i-in their claws a-a-again..

Did o-o-our deaths m-meaning nothing... She said. Her voice was still distorted and broken, just like it was before. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but words had failed him in that moment. He wanted to apologize and say he was trying to escape. That blood was not shed in vain. But, before he could say anything, nails dug into his skin. Making him loosen his grip on the ground. Giving the haunting figures an opportunity to pull him into the abyss of smoldering flames and ash.

No one was around to hear his cries and screams, begging the figures to let him go. His hand reached out for his older sister, but to no avail as she remained motionless. Unmoving and now unspeaking as he was dragged away into the unpleasant unknown. The last thing he remembered was everything fading to black as his voice went hoarse.

Sitting up in bed, his breathing heavy as his golden eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the bedroom. Something felt off. That dream. It felt too real. Actually that was real. A memory he had been trying to keep buried for sixteen years now, but it always found a way to slither itself back up to the surface.

Looking around the room in a daze, still trying to wake himself up from his slumber. The white-haired male could feel the back of his sleep shirt sticking to him like a second skin, due to the cold sweat he had broken out in during his restless dream. As he shifted slightly in his bed. Noticing that nothing seemed to be put out of place.

Picture frames where they were before sleep claimed him. All the lights were off. Cyan blue colored contacts on his nightstand. Doors closed shut, just as he had left them before.

What caught his attention was the sudden draft in the room. Making a chill crawl up his skin and make him break out in goosebumps. As he now shifted in the bed again as he turned his topaz eyes towards the source of the chill that wasn't there before, he shut off the lights and went to bed.

Eyes widening when he saw his window and curtains wide open. But that wasn't the part that made the white-haired man's blood run cold and heart stop in his chest. No, it was the crimson stains that tainted the once pure cotton curtains. He could smell the rich iron scent in the air now, and he didn't need to second-guess what it was. He knew what it was. It was blood. Freshly spilled blood on precious linen.

Slowly getting out of bed, the bedsprings creaking underneath his weight as his bare feet padded against the wooden bedroom floor. The floorboards were creaking under his weight with each step he took. Stepping closer and closer to the window, only to be met with horror.

The macabre scene before his eyes stole the air right out of his lungs as his breath hitched and his lips parted, speechless at what laid at his feet. A slain baby lamb lay curled up in front of the window. The moonlight of the full moon illuminates the morbid scene before him. What stood out in the midst of the blood was the sun that was branded onto the innocent lamb's neck. Making the man subconsciously lift his hand to the same branding on his own neck, the golden branding that was seared into his skin at a young age.

A folded note lay by the lamb; its once pure white paper now has droplets of blood on it. Obscuring some of the ink as the white-haired man grabbed a lens cleaner he used for his colored contacts and glasses. Using it to pick up the tainted paper to avoid getting fingerprints on it as he unfolded it.

He felt the world stop as he read in ink the words he never wanted to see or hear.

"Did you really think you could escape? Dear little lamb. Marked by the sun's golden rays, your dawn is quickly enclosing on you, Khaslana."

He knew what that meant. They found him again. He didn't know how. But they did. Even after every precaution he took. Throwing the name Khaslana into the fires, he escaped that dark haunting summer night. Taking on a new one. Dyeing his hair white, tarnishing the pure golden locks that used to glow under the sunlight as he ran through the wheat fields, giggling and playing. He even wore colored contacts for Titans' sake. So how did they find him?

Sixteen years of mixed peace and paranoia came crashing down around him as he clutched the note tightly within his grasp. He knew what he had to do. Who he had to call.

Pulling off his cellphone from the charger and picking it up from his desk. He was clicking on a contact he hadn't called or texted in six years. THEIR contact.

Letting the phone ring until he heard someone pick up. He heard a half-asleep groan from the speaker. Probably questioning who had the audacity to call them this late at night.

Before they could speak a word, they were cut off by the white-haired male. His voice strained as he spoke into the phone.

"{User}...It's Phainon. I know we agreed to stay away for each other's safety. And you are God who knows where. But they are back, {User}...They found me…And you are next... Please, I don't know what to do. But I need you...to make sure you're safe, and honestly…I don't know if I can do this alone."

Phainon could feel himself holding back tears as he sat down on the ground by the bedside. Holding his phone tightly as he awaited {User}'s response to his warning and plea. Hoping the other person who survived the madness of the Blazing Sun cult would hear him out.