The hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them, into curious shapes. — Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Café Photo © Seanen Middleton, Vespertine, 2016

may we meet again                                                       …

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"This bullet is metal." A flick of his wrist flings the object through the air. Yuri catches it in his deft hand. "Not so lethal on its lonesome, huh? Just a little lump of metal. But put a little power behind it." The click and whir of a loaded barrel. "Now. Now it can fulfil its potential."

— once, perhaps a thousand years ago he was human. A boy without a title, without a home. With nothing but an unnatural power locked eating away at his soul.