Kieran stood atop the slanted roof tiles, leaning against the chimney with one knee bent. His pale blue eyes reflected the bright amber moon that loomed heavy above in the darkness of the night, its glow dripping across the manor rooftops like gold over rust.
The faint sound of music and cheerful murmurs that escaped the banquet hall below grew louder in his mind, taking him back to a life he used to know as his. It reminded him of the kind of parties he would attend back then.
House parties, Premiers, Award shows, and celebrity gatherings. They were all similar to the banquet. The fake smiles and cheers, the feigned perfection worn over polished flaws and defects. They reminded him of it all, the life of the D-list character actor named Kieran Vale.
Despite being an actor, Kieran hadn't been famous in his old life. Not at least in the way people remembered.
He'd been a face that flickered briefly on screens, a name people might mumble in interviews before moving on to the real stars.
He'd played the comic relief in 'Blood and Chrome', the best friend who died early in 'Through the Ashes', and the rival with a redemption arc in 'Winter Wolves'.
Kieran was a dependable supporting actor. And he'd always prided himself on the forgettable role he played. He believed that everyone played a role in the grand film of life, and that everyone should stick to their roles.
He'd never really liked to be in the spotlight, as he'd always felt it just put too much pressure on actors and stars. He'd seen it many a time before. Kieran had only wanted enough fame to live, buy drinks, cars, and pay rent in a decent apartment downtown. A peaceful life without screams and paparazzi following him everywhere he went.
He'd had friends, too. Some of them were other actors- renowned stars in fact- while others were camera operators, scriptwriters, and a few women he'd occasionally slept with when the loneliness crept in.
It always was a one-time fling with no drama and no commitment.
Kieran had basically lived the Hollywood dream without the excessive attention. And he'd been content with it, living as a side character in his own story.
Until that fateful night…
It had been after another long shoot, the kind that left him too tired to think straight but too wired to go home. His friends dragged him to a bar, drowning in the laughter, neon lights, and whiskey bottles. It was another fun night with lots of unwinding to do.
But just somewhere between the jokes and a cigarette break outside, away from his friends, he saw something in the alley.
A young girl was being cornered by a gang of guys in hoodies. She'd looked small and frightened, her cry for help dwindling under their bullying taunts and laughter.
Kieran hadn't even spared a thought to think about it before he moved. He'd yelled at the gang, finding a bottle to throw and scare them off.
He'd done the right thing…
He'd saved the girl from the predatory guys. But when he'd asked the girl to go home, the girl cried and said she had nowhere to go. She said she'd been orphaned for years and had just left the foster home.
Kieran hesitated at first, but then he caved and took her to his home.
He fed her and gave her a blanket, letting her stay in a vacant room in his place.
She'd smiled, thanked him with trembling lips, before parting for the night. Kieran had thought he'd done what anyone would.
But the next morning, the cops were at his door.
And there, behind them, was the girl. Her clothes were torn, her voice shaking as tears streaked down her cheeks, as she claimed she'd been assaulted by him!
Kieran had thought at first that it was some kind of sick mistake and had tried to clarify that he'd only helped the girl. But then they cuffed him.
He was then charged in court with forensic evidence that indicated scratches and signs of penetration; a story that everyone wanted to believe. What baffled him even more was that the DNA matched his; however, it wouldn't be a surprise if she'd used something that belonged to him in the first place on herself.
It was then that Kieran knew his life was ruined. It didn't matter that the forensic proof was tampered with or that the girl might've done it to herself to incriminate him. No one cared for the truth at that point.
He was the villain. And everyone needed a villain. After all, there were too many victims out there, and someone had to be blamed. Kieran became exactly that.
He was pushed into the spotlight as the antagonist, left for the world to hate.
His friends stopped returning his calls. His agent dropped him. He'd lost everything but his home.
Kieran didn't hate the girl, despite what she'd done. He knew she must have had a reason. He didn't hate the world for judging him without knowing the truth. If it didn't happen to him, and he was just an onlooker like the rest of the world, he'd react the same way. But Kieran found himself asking one question.
' Why?'
A question posed to the girl, the world, and himself...
Just when he'd thought that things were bad enough, it got even worse for him. The night before the final hearing of the trial, Kieran had sat in his apartment surrounded by silence and empty liquor bottles. Then came a knock on his door, followed by a sudden break-in.
He was robbed by the same guys he'd scared away that night, and behind them was the same young girl he'd saved. She'd led them right to his place.
The guys laughed at him, tied him up, and peed on him. And she watched, she watched everything with an amused face. And even that wasn't what really hurt him. The sting of betrayal and the fear of death were nothing next to the revelation that occurred to him when he heard them say, " You shouldn't have stuck your nose in our business. You shouldn't have tried to play the hero…"
Just then, the answer to Kieran's questions occurred to him. He realized he'd played a different role by saving the girl that night. He realized he should have stuck to his role in life, should have stuck to the script of life.
It only made sense that he expired his time in life once he failed to stick to his role. Life is a play, and everyone is an actor with only one shot at it. He understood it then. It all made sense…
The gunshot came mid-thought. And that was it. Kieran died.
'Haha, not much difference now anyway.' Kieran thought to himself as he shut his eyes, reeling in his emotions. He thought there wasn't much difference between himself and Metis.
' But anyway, this time I'll stick to my role as a background character. I've learnt my lessons.' He opened his eyes, the amber moon staring back like an audience spotlight. Below, the faint smell of smoke began to thread through the air.
"Anytime now," he whispered.
And right on cue, a burst of flame exploded.
The grand banquet hall had caught flame, blooming orange and gold in the night.
Panic spread faster than the fire itself. Guests screamed as they fled out into the yard, hurrying to safety while the servants dashed to find buckets of water.
'Not that it would make any difference.' Kieran mused, his gaze fixed on the skill he'd used to set the hall ablaze.
[ Devil's flint- A mischievous skill that can be activated with a snap of fingers or tap of heels, which causes a spark of fire that would continue to spread until no end.]
[Level- 1]
[Span: 30 minutes]
The manor erupted in chaos, a chaos caused by Kieran.
From his perch above, Kieran watched it all unfold with an almost serene indifference. He watched as the so-called nobles scurried like rats, their fine silks dragging through ash, and their precious jewels clattering against marble floors, forsaken. They all rushed to find safety in their coaches.
Some slipped and tripped over as they ran for their lives, their usually bright faces twisted in disbelief and fear.
" Hahaha!" Kieran couldn't help himself at the sight. He chuckled, like someone watching an inside joke only he understood.
A portly nobleman who couldn't carry his own weight was nearly trampled by his own guards. Two ladies shrieked as their powdered wigs caught fire, running around in panic.
Amidst all of this, Kieran saw the Count, surrounded by guards, storm out in a hurry towards their coach. The rotund noble, who'd always carried himself like a god among worms, looked shaken for the first time- his face red and livid with fear. He shouted orders to leave the scene, his voice more like a shriek.
' Haha! It's just fire, why are you so scared?' Kieran shook his head at this, cackling at the Count's cowardice.
But just then, Kieran froze when his gaze caught sight of someone.
The mysterious man from earlier, who'd smiled at him as he left the banquet hall, stepped calmly, untouched by the chaos. He moved like smoke, unbothered and unperturbed, a smile still plastered on his face. He only turned his back once to look at the outbreak before disappearing into a sleek black coach adorned with the symbol of a serpentine creature with wings, biting its own tail.
Kieran's grin faltered slightly, yet his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Who the hell are you…?" He muttered as he watched the coach row away.