Fall was born on the planet Triaxus, during the final year of the transitioning from Summer to Winter, in a small insignificant village. He grew up alone, never knowing his parents, and having only one real friend: an orphan named Sickle. The two grew up together, meeting at age 3 and immediately became inseparable. Sickle was all Fall had, and vice versa. And they were happy, but the kind of happiness that can only come from a long period of sadness.
As Fall got older, he got more curious. At age 9, he and Sickle had a conversation about where they thought they came from, who they were. Sickle told Fall not to worry about his past, that it didn’t matter because he couldn’t do anything to change it. Fall took her advice lightly. He would not rest until knowing his true origins.
He left Sickle alone that night, and went off into the wilderness to think, in solitude.
That night, Fall dreamt of dragons. Specifically, one bronze dragon that came from the sky and flew into the wilderness behind the village. The wilderness was quickly surrounded by an impenetrable barricade of electricity. Months passed before the barrier was lifted. The dragon flew out, and the villagers rushed in and pulled something….someone...out. Fall woke up before learning who it was.
Every night since then, Fall would head to the same exact spot and have the same exact dream, waking up at the same exact part where the figure would be revealed. He had to know who they were. He needed to know. Fall kept this up for 3 years until, on his 12th birthday, he arrived. He had his dream, but it was different this time.
It didn’t end where it should have.
The villagers in his dream pulled out a Triaxian woman, weak, feeble, barely able to stand and holding a child close to her chest…..It was the most beautiful image Fall had ever seen. And at that moment, the dream seemed to freeze and last for hours.
Fall woke up the next day, surrounded by carnage. Trees had toppled, animals had been torn to pieces, and Fall was covered in ashes. He jumped up and gazed in horror at the disaster that had just missed him. Of course, he wondered what happened at first. Why he hadn’t been touched. Fall looked down at where he was resting and, unfortunately, learned the truth.
In the midst of the destruction was an untouched silhouette of a young Triaxian boy, with a pair of massive wings resembling lightning bolts made from ashes, sprouting from the figure’s back. He had, unknowingly, performed his first Bloodrage. The Origin Rage. Stronger than any Rage to come.
Taken aback by the scene, Fall fled home, where Sickle was waiting. She told Fall of a lightning storm that had happened in the wilderness. She told Fall of noises, ungodly screams that could only be described as pain. True pain. Pain only known by those experiencing it. She told Fall of the lights. Quick flashes of light, lasting only the blink of an eye, but blinding nonetheless. She told Fall of those who’d tried to investigate. Whatever happened to them...she didn’t say.  Then…
Sickle told Fall of the blood.
It was everywhere, marking the end of the storm in one of the most horrendous ways possible. It had seeped out of the wilderness, and through the village, never stopping or slowing down. It just kept going as far as the eye could see...It was too dark to be Triaxian, or anything native to Triaxus. Sickle asked Fall if he knew anything about the storm.
Fall denied everything.
A year past, but the memories of the event did not. The blood streak was still present in the village, as full and dark as it had been the year prior. A reminder. Fall’s relationship with Sickle had strengthened much after the tragedy. It strengthened their belief that, if anything happened to one of them, the other would have nothing left. That had almost happened once, and they weren’t ready for it to happen again.
It was now Fall’s 13th birthday. Sickle had done all she could to make this one special, the anniversary of when they’d almost lost each other. She’d gone so far as to give Fall his first gift, a wooden pendant shaped like a maple leaf, inscribed with their names on the back, written in a heart. And to Fall, it was the most memorable gift from the memorable day of his life.
That night, he had the dream again. He saw the face of the woman with the child again. And time froze, once again. It didn’t last as long as Fall remembered. It was nowhere near as powerful, and to his surprise, Fall was able to break out of it multiple times, catching glimpses of what was going on, of what He was doing.
The screams came first. Then the gut-wrenching noises. Then his eyes were opened. He saw his village being bombarded by bolts of blue energy. He saw the townspeople, fleeing for their lives. He saw destruction everywhere he looked. Each time, closing his eyes and wincing as the woman and child appeared in his mindscape, then going dark.
Fall awoke, standing among the bodies in the blood-soaked streets. Only one still breathed, barely. At his feet laid Sickle, looking up at him with a hurt look in her eyes. A look of betrayal, anger, but Fall could sense a splinter of love and hope. Her chest was raked with deep claw marks, soaked with light blood. Sickle looked deep into Fall’s eyes, seeking out a glimmer of the boy she had grown up with in the monster that stood before her.
And then he had nothing.
By the time he had calmed down, the Royal Guards had already come for him. The trial was quick, but painful. Fall was banished from Triaxus, forced to give up everything he knew. He was encased in a capsule, and launched into the unknown.
With his time in the capsule, Fall’s dreams changed. No longer was the woman holding a child close to her heart. There was no woman, and the child...the child was a monster, some hellish creature bearing no resemblance to a Triaxian, looming over Sickle’s fragile body, feasting on her.
Fall crashed on another planet after some time. How long, he could not guess. The capsule opened, and he was alone in a dark forest, mighty trees his only company. He had nothing.
Over time, his dreams got less intense, but no less graphic. His Rage had mostly faded, weakened through long periods of calm, but still very present. It was as if his Rage was locked away, but with every battle a bit of it escapes the locks, strengthening his curse.
Fall had learned to control his Rage, for now. It took time, and lots of it. Fortunately, when one is isolated, time is the one thing they can count on. On his 19th birthday, after years of survival training, Fall left the forest and entered civilization, leaving behind everything he had come to know. He had nothing, but the clothes on his back and the pendant around his neck.
It was time for him to start anew.
New world. New life.
Irreplaceable memories.