<span style="font-style: italic">Ziam had been in his home when he woke. Lying in a pool of scarlet. Lying next to his infant son. Their blood mixing on the ground around him. “Iram,” Ziam screamed in anger and pain and fear pushing himself up and over to hold the tiny body in his arms. He saw then his wife, Elian and his other son, twin to Iram in her arms, both dead long before Iram and before he had been attacked he figured from the empty pain lacerating his heart. Iram, Elian and Esian all gone. Taken, killed. He knew those marks like everyone did. Demons. Tears fell from his eyes and he screamed...</span><br/><br/>Ziam sat bold upright his heart pounding and his head aching. Memories flying through his mind. The nightmare had come again. Again like every time he closed his eyes. Barely dawn, barely an hour of sleep. He sighed and rose. Dressed quickly, passing his hand over the skull and wings tattoo on his right shoulder feeling the tears prickling his eyes as he remembered the family he’d lost. His head ached as it always did because the rest of his past was a mystery. Taken by the violence and pain of that night. That night. All that drove Ziam. All that remained of a once peaceful man, now made broken and angry. That night. The reason he fought. The reason he was Hikari Sēbā. The reason for everything.<br/><br/>Ziam walked down the small street from the Inn he’d been staying in, his pack over one shoulder holding his weapons, a few books, some herbs and dried rations, his water pouch, a cloak and some extra clothing. Everything he’d need to live on the road. A nomad. A loner. Ziam was on a mission. Kill every Demon and avenge his family. Destroy them all. Give vent to the anger that flowed like blood through his veins.<br/><br/>Ziam entered the central base, the main base and made his way to the meeting. Not late, but not early, just on time. Always just on time. He sat in complete silence. Stone. Silent and still. Anger riling with the headache making his eyes seem dark and distant. Pain flooding his features hidden by a barely contained mask of neutrality. Pain, anger, rage. It was all he knew.<br/><br/>“Yes, Lord Arius,” he replied when instructed where he was to go. He did not leave immediately, but waited to see if more instructions would be given. To see what his primary directive would be. What he would do. What he would do indeed. That was always the question. Would he be required to kill, or only to explore and learn.