At five, the flame-haired boy discovered the power of words.
Take his family name. âShroudâ was something powerful. His father was the âShroud family headâ, his mother was the âGenius Shroud Engineerâ, and before he knew it, he was the âShroud familyâs venerable child prodigyâ.
âHeir apparentâ, whatever that meant, was another epithet. âFuture watchmanâ, âGuard of the underworldâ â no matter how many piled up, it was a certainty that the s word, carrying the weight of ten thousand souls with it, would follow soon after.
Those who knew what this near-sacrosanct family did would smile as their lips formed around the word, feeling assured in their safety. Those who did not could still tell it commanded respect, and their heads would automatically lower at its mention.
At five and a few months, he learned some words held more power than others.
âIdiaâ was something weak. âIdiaâ would fail the test of time, be forgotten two generations down the line.
People seldom said it aloud, and as they did, their faces would contort like it was something scarcely worth remembering.
âShroudâ was the diamond, while whatever stood before it was simply the dust that one must be rid of sooner or latter.
