No one ever said that being a half blood was going to be easy. No one ever said it was going to be pleasant. I guess I was lucky in that respect. I'm Amarath Roth, sister to the Princess of Darkness, and this is my story.
You clicked on this link, so you can bloody well read it while you're here. In short, shut up, sit down and pay attention! I'm Amarath, or Amarath Lycorn Roth if you want the whole enchilada. Half blood demon of the Roth-Mercian-Von Neckrark clan, bastard daughter of Karthragan, former Prince of Darkness. And this is my life. Please leave your common sense at the door. You won't be needing it.
I was born in another dimension known as Synairn. Despite several battles and a couple of other bloodsheds, it's a peaceful dimension. It's not as big as most, maybe about the size of Ireland if it's lucky, comprised of the city of Synairn, its outlying villages and fields before giving way to the Deas Mountains, where the Careen, a winged humanoid race that lived in the dimension alongside the Synari, stayed. I was born in the city, to a Synari woman named Arellan Roth. I never knew her. My only memory of her is a flash of black hair and a soft, tired life pronouncing my name for the first time. Galvados told me that Arellan had held me for only a moment before she had to and me to a Senator to take to the mountains.
The first real memory I have is of a man muttering under his breath, urging on his pegasus through the storm clouds that crowned the highest peaks of the Deas Mountains. I could hear the creature's laboured breathing as it struggle against the fierce winds. The Senator was crouched low over his mount's neck, his cloak wsting into impossible shapes, trying to reduce the resistance to the wind that he posed while protecting me from the lashing rain.
The pegasus finally broke through the clouds, landing on the plateau where a small cabin had been built. Standing in the doorway was a man who's width took up the entire space. He stepped forwards as the Senator swung himself off his mount, shoving me into the man's arms.
"It's your responsibility now. I want nothing else to do with it."
"Has Arellan named the child?"
"And you are sure it will be this one?"
"Arias said that it would be the first born, so I brought you the first born to train. I wish you good luck, Commander Galvados."
Galvados looked down at me, the child forgotten in his arms. For a moment, he simply stared at me, and I stared back. Shaking his head, Galvados walked back into his cabin and shut the door.
He didn't waste any time in starting my training. The very next day, he sat me down on the floor, surrounded by an array of old knives and daggers. Some of them were bigger than I was at that point, but they were all old, chipped and dull. For the first two weeks of my life, I learnt to be at ease around different weapons. I learnt to read and write. I learnt to walk. And I ate like a demon. I was constantly hungry and, from what Galvados had told me, growing at an incredible rate. At the age of two weeks, I had grown and matured to the Synari equivalent of a two year old child. Galvados measured my height twice a day, noting down his observations. At a month old, I had gained another year of physical maturity. I started handling the knives properly, fighting against Galvados, learning moves over and over again until they were ingrained into my muscles. At night, I slept out in the stable with a bad-tempered pegasus. If I didn't work properly, I didn't eat. If I wasn't training with weapons, I was learning languages and tactics. I didn't have time to think about my mother apart from late at night, as I lay curled up on the makeshift bed Galvados had put in the stable for me, listening to the wind howling outside, when I longed for a mother's loving embrace.