Crimson Warden

"Malachi! Come here boy!" Mal's father called to him from the forge downstairs. Malachi lowered himself from just his one tan hoof to all four and with the help of a couple stewards, removed the bowls of scalding water from atop his head and three remaining outstretched limbs. He had never once spilled a drop and he didn't plan to now.

Wiping the sweat from his body with a cool towel, Malachi retrieved his blackened sunglasses and placed them over his white eyes and took off at a brisk trot towards the stairs down to his father’s forge. Tossing the towel over his shoulder for the attendants to clean up, Malachi began the journey downwards taking the four flights of stairs to the depths of what was often described as hell by any other Faction than his own.

Entering into the antechamber of the forge, Malachi met his father who was currently sat on a mattress with an IV in his leg and a rather large block of salt which was only half the size it used to be the day before.

“What were you doing up there?” Malachi’s father demanded as he glowered at the bow with an apprehensive glare.

"I was balancing on my foreleg just like you told me to, four hours ago." Malachi answered truthfully.

"Did you have the bowls of water like I positioned them?" His father turned to a bottle of large salt pills while the IV replenished the nutrients lost in sweat from working in the hellforge.

"Yes sir. I had the servants replace the cold water with boiling water, give myself more incentive to stay in stance." Malachi reported dutifully, standing at attention to the great man before him.

"I see, you didn’t spill any then? Turn, let me see your body." Malachi complied and rotated in place to show no evidence of water burns or the like on his body; if the burns would’ve been hidden by his fur, his father would know regardless.

Malachi's father nodded twice before holding a salt pill to his son who gratefully took and swallowed it, knowing exactly what was next to come. Malachi disrobed before pulling on an old smithing apron which were covered in old metal filings and crystal shards.

Once his father was content with his nutrient levels, he unhooked himself from the IV and stepped forward toward the door to the inner forge itself; his son right beside him.

Malachi's father took hold of the door handle, specially conditioned to resist the searing heat from within and pulled the door open with the alarm sounding a breach in the heat casing. As the sweltering waves washed over both father and son, Malachi having been knocked back a few steps by the heatwave, both males stepped into the inner chamber and the door latched closed behind them.

"So what're we doing today, father?" Malachi inquired as he retrieved a red crystal hammer hanging nearby, specifically designed to smith Crystal.

"Today is review. Today, you will craft a Warden’s badge which will be given to a person of highest degree capabilities. He is to be badged tomorrow, at a formal ceremony, by a representative of the Central 48 as a public event." Malachi's mouth hung slightly open, then became uneasy at the thought of crafting -by himself- a badge which signified utmost power within the four factions.

At this point, Malachi became somewhat unsure of his crystal smithing skills, even though the back of his mind told him he knew he had the capabilities to smith one with master craftsmanship despite his remarkably young age of 3735. Malachi pushed the thoughts of uncertainty from his mind, setting his attention to the task at hand and began remembering the proper steps to be taken to do the job correctly, as well as safely.

"Which faction am I am crafting for?" Malachi asked with a stern, yet calm voice as he made his way over to the racks of the four crystals: red, blue, green, and white. The answer his father gave him would decide which crystal material he'd have to use as each crystal would have different densities and methods of shaping.

"Earth Breaking. The badge will be presented to a newly crowned Breaker. Make me proud, and remember your training." His father told him before moving to, then standing far out of the way and out of reach for help from the boy. Malachi nodded then began to feel the braille text on the crystal rack frames by the frog of his hoof, telling him which crystal type was where.

Malachi reached down a bit, grasping hold of a large, solid shard of green crystal with bare hooves; something one does not simply do without years of conditioning of the skin and becoming a high ranked craftsman as the crystal had to be kept in the intense heat of the forge in order to keep it from becoming unworkable.

Malachi ran his left hoof over the shard with the tip of the right tapping lightly on the bottom of the shard, allowing the young crystal smith to read the purity of the crystal through the wavelengths of vibration sent through. Malachi stopped a moment, thinking he had picked up a flaw, but after tapping again and slightly moving his hoof to pinpoint the flaw, discovered nothing wrong with the piece.

Having made his selection Malachi slowly turned to the forge, placing the shard between specially conditioned tongs and submerged the shard under the liquid flames of the forge; just long enough for the shard to become pliable. His father began to slowly walk around the forge, sweating bullets, watching intensely as his son  patiently waited.

Malachi's hooves were becoming increasingly damp, a major issue when handling crystal in the forge's magma. Malachi carefully, slowly, removed one hoof from the tongs, wiped them on his apron and then slowly switched hooves to dry the other. Unfortunately as his free hoof was moving away, the edge of Malachi’s hoof snagged the metal of the tongs and pulled the tongs from Mal's grasp, sending them and the shard into the magma pit.

At this point both father and son knew exactly what would happen, an explosion of the shard as it heated up way beyond its point of pliability. The only question was, when would it happen? Both men bolted for the door, Malachi reaching the enormous bulkhead first and tried to push it open himself but the door was too heavy for him; his father would have to open it and he wasn’t close enough.

All of a sudden, an explosion went off from deep within the magma furnace; the crystal had exploded. Malachi instinctively ducked in attempts to avoid flying magma and crystal shard that he couldn't see. Unfortunately his attempts at safety were for naught, as searing hot crystal/magma shards flew up and across Mal's chest and back; the wounds instantly cauterised as the magma and flaming crystal shot past his flanks, leaving only burning scars.

Malachi swung heavily at the door, sending waves of vibration out around the room trying to look for his father as the forge erupted much like a miniature volcano. He eventually managed to find an abnormal form lying on the floor: his father’s unmoving body. Malachi hoped to whatever deities were watching that his father was safe and so Malachi carefully crawled across the floor, under shelves and racks, until his muzzle met fur.

Malachi pulled himself closer, constantly knocking his rear leg against something to make a vibration, anything to let Malachi see in the endless void that plagued him since birth. Once he managed to get himself where he figured he'd be safe, under a larger work bench, he pulled as hard as he could to move his father under the table with him but found it near impossible to do so without his father actively groaning or protesting.

 "Father! You must come here, get to safety! I'm so sorry I let it go, I didn't mean to I promise! I promise I didn't! I promise! Come on! Why won't you move?!" Malachi screamed at his father as he kept trying to pull at the body; the explosions having died down now to its normal state of mere bubbling.

"I- I'm afraid I have no choice but to stay here son, you've given me no choice by dropping that piece!" His father hissed back, coughing up blood. Malachi now had tears in his eyes as his hooves explored his father’s body, trying to find whatever would be pinning his father.

Without success Malachi pulled his right hoof back and sent it into the wall with such force that it dented the extremely thick metal, sending enormous vibration waves around the room to light up the body in front of him, as well as the meter long shard that fell from the pile above that pierced the male’s body and pinned him to the floor.

Malachi's hooves grasped the crystal shard and then traced it down to the wound, feeling around to see where it penetrated; right through the spine, likely somewhere in the middle of the thoracic vertebrae. Further coating his hooves in blood, Malachi placed both hooves over the wound in attempts to stop the bleeding; not only to save his father, but also to save his way out of the vault-like forge. It was likely that staff heard and reported the explosion to emergency services, so they'd likely have someone strong enough with them, but he still wouldn't be entirely sure that they'd be able to get the door open.

"Boy, you did this to me,” Malachi’s father paused to cough up a lungful of blood, “But I w- wa- want you to know some- something. I- I lov-" his father's voice trailed off as his heart was cut off from the signals from the brain to continue pumping. Malachi was actively sobbing now as his hooves remained on the wound, blood staining his fur as the door to the room blew open from the outside, his father's best friend as well as another crystal smith, stood in place before the door. Malachi's head hung over his father's body, body not moving, as the emergency personnel moved in wearing specially made heat retardant clothing.

His father's best friend moved to Malachi, picking him up by his barrel with Malachi actively kicking, screaming and crying in attempts to not be removed from his only remaining family’s side. As he was lifted up and out of the furnace and into the outer chamber, medical personnel moved in and attached Malachi to his father's own IV and injected a salt solution into the bag; with much resistance from Malachi of course.

This forced the Medicals to actively restrain Malachi long enough for the police to shackle the boy, an act which infuriated Malachi. With an almighty roar Malachi broke the cuffs, an act which no one in the room expected, and began to engulf everyone present in a steel cocoon, effectively restricting everyone's air supply.

Malachi, in his fit of rage, began to bury everyone's cocoon deep under ground; unbeknownst to him, one of the officers managed to get a call to the police headquarters to bring in a Warden to contain the situation. That would be the last transmission before everyone who showed up was buried alive in their tombs.

Only moments later, Malachi broke himself up through the ground, through the house he was born and raised in, and landed on the marble tiles where he had only just been standing in stance for four hours, not two hours ago. It was at this point when a low ranked one-star Warden popped up from the ground behind Malachi and had him restrained in red crystal cuffs: cuffs meant only to contain anyone capable of manipulating a Faction.

The Warden was now able to securely attach the full shackles, designed to prevent breaking of any kind. Malachi, forelegs bound and tears streaming, fell to his stomach with head hidden under his body, and passed out.

~~~

        1423 years later, Malachi stood at the precipice of a large, rocky sand dune, blindly staring out into what remained of the battlefield he had just drenched in the blood of the enemy. His white eyes gazing out, only able to vaguely see the horrific scene before him. Instead of turning away in shame for his actions, Malachi reveled in his victory, bending down low and scooping up some of the drying blood staining the sand and placing it into a small glass phial; his blood rage, as well as blood lust, thoroughly quenched for the time being. Standing once more, the Crimson Warden turned and walked off, his over coat billowing in the sandy winds. He had no idea he was about to find a little sister.