Blessed by Night

A life began on October 21st, 2014, in the middle of Arkansas. Specifically, that of a young boy named Nathan.

His mother passed away shortly after the birth. At least that's what his father told him when he was young.

He later found out that his mother fled his father as soon as the hospital gave her the okay. She didn't want him. Either of them.

Nathan's father was a brute of a man. His belief was that discipline and religious doctrine were the only things that were needed to raise a child.

Years later, Nathan couldn't recall ever being given a shred of kindness from his father. He was fed, but if he dared to eat too loud he was hit and starved.

He had a total of three outfits. One for school, one for church, and one for yardwork.

He wasn't given anything else until he was practically bursting at the seams. Not because his father didn't have the money, he owned a successful pawn shop. He just couldn't be bothered.

From the ages of four to fifteen, Nathan tip-toed around his home like it was a minefield.

He didn't linger within eyesight, did his chores before he was asked, ate as little food as possible, and used as little electricity as possible.

And Nathaniel thought he could last like that. At least until he turned eighteen and could join the navy or something.

But puberty and lack of foresight brought their own challenges.

Nathaniel's father was a rather high-ranking member of an extremely violent hate group.

So naturally, when he came home early one day and found his son in bed with another young man from school, he had a rather explosive reaction.

That day was the first time that Nathan ever saw someone get killed. And he was too powerless to do anything to stop it.

He ran before he could follow suit.

He had no destination in mind. No relatives to run to either. He never contemplated calling the police.

Nathan was fully aware that his dad had several friends on the force because they came over for poker night.

At only fifteen years old, he became homeless.

He bounced around from shelter to shelter after that. Never staying in one place too long out of fear of others who lived there.

This circumstance perhaps more than any other, taught Nathan the weight of human cruelty.

People at their lowest, with nothing to hope for and nothing to dream of, become irrevocably craven and desperate to the point of destruction for themselves and anyone around them.

Nathan only had his clothes and a backpack when he fled home.

In the first three weeks of being homeless, Nathan had his shoes stolen, his backpack, the granola bars he was saving, and the pillow he fished out of the trash.

He became convinced of the affliction known as mankind. Everywhere that he went, the things that he saw and the people he lived around repulsed him.

But it wasn't until he got older that he realized that maybe he was looking at it all wrong. His hatred was directed towards symptoms of a problem, but not the actual root disease.

Humans by enlarge were infected by a very small caste of their presumed 'betters' at the very top of the metaphorical food chain.

Their poison trickled down into the homes and minds of oblivious and ignorant humans until they were no greater than animals in a colosseum. Ripping each other apart for the amusement of a crowd that they hadn't even stopped to look at.

While working at a public library, he became enamored with the history of revolutionaries.

He read about the American ones first.

He hated almost all of them.

Their courage was commendable, but their actions were nowhere near as radical as they needed to be. They didn't fix the system, they put bandaids over it. Or they were killed before they could make any real change.

He then expanded his studies outside of American textbooks, and his mind was broadened more than ever before.

The idea became cemented in his mind that if he wanted to really cure humanity of their afflictions, he had to rip down their venomous institutions, cut the heads off their treacherous idols, and instill the fear of death into the masses who would not readily walk into change.

But he couldn't do it as himself. Who would want to follow a scrawny kid who was practically one missed meal away from being labeled anorexic?

Not only that, he didn't believe that he could rely on others either.

Humanity's underlying disease was both hereditary and contagious.

He didn't have any doubts that if he tried to form a party with likeminded people, that the power would rush to their heads and they would eventually become no different from the vermin they were originally fighting against.

He needed a caste outside of humanity to bring about change. Humans only look to others to lead if they believe they have no choice, or somewhat agree in their ideals beforehand.

To convince them to totally and completely flip their beliefs and patterns on their heads, more than a man is needed. The world needed a god.

Not one who rested on his laurels and watched humanity eat itself trying to decipher his messaging.

But a present, active god who guided mortals forward onto a better, more fruitful path.

And if a percentage of humanity needed to die to make that dream happen then… so be it. The needs of the many outweigh that of the few.

But again, there was an integral problem that could not be solved no matter the method.

There was no sort of deity or supernatural figure coming to aid them. And that meant Nathan's dream was dead in the water before it could begin.

And then the gates opened up.

When monsters poured out of holes in the sky and ravaged the streets, Nathan didn't fret over the potential end of the world.

Humanity was practically a scourge that would have been better off buried in the soil.

He did not think himself an exception to that belief because he hardly even valued his own life.

And then the strangest most inexplainable phenomena occurred where Jonathan suddenly ran into a woman with golden blonde hair and bright green eyes.

He had never come across a being of such majesty.

His life had ensured that he was far from a religious man, even if he understood the utility behind it.

But as he lived and breathed on that day, he was filled with the urge to worship a deity.

She was the closest thing to a perfect being he could imagine.

She was kind, but her kindness was not motivated by anything other than the pure joy she took in being gentle to others.

He asked her for her identity. She told him that she would be his mother.

And as impossibly crazy a scenario as it was, he couldn't find it in himself to call her insane or run away.

She knew everything about him. She knew his heart, she knew his hurt, and she made him feel for the very first time that he was not alone in the world.

Then she made him strong.

He lay down in his car to sleep one night, and then when he awoke he was remade in her very image.

He was strong. He could fly. He could fire beams of sunlight from his hands and even bend light rays to turn himself and things around him invisible.

But none of it meant as much to him as the new name she gave him.

He was the very first to receive this gift. This blessing.

But rather than run loudly into the streets and announce himself as a great son of god and begin saving the masses from the monsters, he decided to wait.

Although… he didn't do nothing in the meantime.

He returned to his childhood home for the first time in years. His father was still living there, old, alone, and bitter.

The fondest moment of Nathaniel's life was stringing his father up on a golden cross of light before setting the entire home ablaze.

From there, he went underground and started building up the foundation of his new day. And establishing his hope of a better tomorrow.

-

"Really, everything I've just said is one big nothing-burger." Arias shrugged.

He stood on stage in front of a crowd of reporters and even more cameras.

Off to the side, Malachi, Morgan, and Awena were standing in a bunch, listening to everything with slack jaws and trying to control their expressions.

"Nothing I told you just now should change your view of me. If you believe me to be evil, then you should hold onto that belief, and if you saw me as a positive force then find some way to slip me your phone number." Arias winked.

Wry chuckles escaped the mouths of several reporters and even Malachi himself.
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"I suppose I told you all of that because I wanted you all to know exactly how I reached the conclusions that I had. And I wanted to instill in you the realization that there are likely many who felt just as I did. Even if they don't know how to voice it."

Now, no one was laughing again.

Arias opened and closed his mouth several times as if his next words were just on the tip of his tongue.

He paused and he glanced back at Malachi and Morgan. The only friends he could honestly say he'd made in 27 years of life.

And they'd gotten off on a horrible foot time and time again.

"…I won't apologize for anything I did in the past. I can only say that… I didn't have a reason to trust in the fact that things would get better. So I tried to fix them the only way that I knew how.

But as I surrender myself to the proper authorities today… I have a bit more confidence in the future where things can be better. I have met people who.. I believe will better the world in ways that I could not.

But allow me to leave you with this…"

Arias' eyes flashed gold, and a bit of his pressure filled the room.

"It is the intrinsic duty of those in power to aid and teach those without. Though I may be going away today, I can guarantee that the moment that humanity slips back into their greedy, venomous ways, another conduit of change just like me will rise up to set the fabric of society ablaze."

Arias' pressure subsided like it was never even there.

His eyes lost their glow and his outwardly powerful demeanor went up in smoke.

"…Okay, thanks for listening, bye-bye!" Arias held up two fingers in a peace sign and skipped off the stage.