Another crack at writing a fan fiction, feel free to leave suggestions, and don't be mean, I'm still new at this.

A bright and sunny day in an Order city, the name not important as of yet, the sun is shining bright and the same familiar place it was several decades ago. People walk about and acting as if all was right with their world, which to them was very clearly not. A lone figure stood upon a roof watching everyone as if silently judging them, the figure is dressed in a large, slightly moth eaten cloak. He has vibrant green eyes full of life, a head of dirty red hair full of dreadlocks, but perhaps the only unusual thing about him is his right hand, something to explain later. He leaps into an alleyway and walks out of it in normal clothes, that is to say short sleeved shirt and pants. Without the cloak his age becomes apparent, he is 15 and one of the youths with the possibility of being blessed.

The city was bussing with life as everyone tries to chip in for preparing the youth of the city to be blessed by the gods. The only ones not chipping in was the youth, who were mentally preparing themselves for either rejection as a hero or acceptance as one. The boy walked amongst the crowd of people talking to the many people gathered, until bumping into a veteran hero, a middle aged man with blond hair, hazel eyes and a gaze that could bring the wildest beast to its knees.

Hero: So you think you can be a hero, huh? Well, you're a long way from it! With those arms of yours, can you even lift a sword?

Boy: S-sorry sir. But, *standing up a bit straighter and trying to look confident* I can hold a sword just fine, thank you.

Hero: We'll see about that boy. But you had better get ready, the ceremony is almost upon us. *Sigh* I remember my blessing, happiest day of my life. Go on boy! Show the monsters some human determination, that is if you think yourself strong enough, string bean!

With that, he walks off laughing to himself, leaving the boy alone, he soon walks off back into the alleyway and leaps back onto the roof with his cloak on. Several minutes later near the centre of the city the youth gather and kneel before an elevated landing. There was a billowing wind and a flash of light, then calm, upon the landing was an assortment of gods, each powerful and all looks like they played dress up just for the occasion. But, the one who took centre stage was an elegantly dressed woman with a dress literally made of spun gold, her hair flows to an unseen wind and her eyes, soothing, calming, yet stern and judging, no doubt this woman is the Chief Goddess. She, without saying a word approaches the first youth, a young woman with black hair, green eyes and from the boy's point of view, appears to be quite nimble. The Goddess touches her shoulder and a symbol appears on the girl's forehead and disappears without leaving anything. The Goddess does this for a few others then returns to the landing, the other gods and goddesses repeats this process, the symbols differ for each and every one of them. As they ready to leave a man rushes up to them, then panting hard began to say something.

Man: Someone. *Pant* Is. *Pant* Missing. *Pant*

Gods and goddesses: Who?

Man: *Gulps and starts to add to the sweat on his face* A boy. *Pant* By the name of. *Pant* Galius, Galius Merceai, a self proclaimed fire tamer.

Chief Goddess: Send a few guards to search for him, but tell them to be careful, fire is the most destructive of the four elements.

Man: Will do, my Goddess.

The man runs off and yells for a few guards, they arrive quickly as many guards are needed for an occasion such as this. The man shouts them a warning, then tells them to look for anyone about the age of 15 not at the centre of the city. The guards rush off in many directions and soon the clanking, battering and thudding noises disappear off in the distance.

The guards quickly corners the cloaked boy, and drawing their swords walks towards him. Then Galius casts off his cloak and his right hand is soon covered in a golden gauntlet, and on the the back of his hand is an orange mark in the shape of an ember. The guards falter for a second at the appearance of the gauntlet, then staring hard at the mark, comes the same conclusion all at once, the boy is a fire tamer.

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