On the bright illuminating stage was the handsome boy with a face that could make even angels jealous. His name, Snow, was picked because he appeared on a heavy snow day.
Snow was the most famous actor of the Beaumort circus, belonging to the noble merchant Thane Beaumort, a wealthy aristocrat that was known for his goodwill nature and charity works.
And that night was another sold out show for Snow. He wasn't even the main character but people came to see him, just to admire his angelic appearance.
And when the play was over, Snow bowed down to the audience alongside his fellow actors.
Snow saw a young girl with red hair looking at him. Her gaze was filled with lust, as if she would stop at nothing to possess him.
Possess him as an object, a toy to be played with. Her eyes exuded desire, not love nor admiration.
It turned out that it was Lyara Starcrow, a High Lady that belonged to a clan with a long line of magic users. Her family influenced the very base nature of this society.
A High Clan was even more royal than royalty themselves. Their whim decided the fate of this entire kingdom.
Snow was afraid. He didn't want to get involved in any of that. He just wanted to be the little actor that could make the audience laugh, cry and rage.
But fate had another plan for him. A short, abrupting and sad plan.
And as Snow guessed, Lyara began to show up around the circus more frequently. She was always there when he was on stage. She was also there when he wasn't.
Then she went further, demanded to meet and have private time with him.
Snow, for some reason, felt the utmost disgust and horror whenever he saw her. Behind that pretty, silky smooth skin was something that made his skin crawl.
So he avoided her, for as long as he could. He made up reasons to chase her away.
But Thane Beaumort was a politician at heart. He saw the opportunity, the leverage he would gain if he allowed this to happen.
So under Beaumort's order, Snow had to meet her. They finally were together alone.
And she offered everything to him. Everything in exchange for his love, for his loyalty and his body.
She waited in the room naked and let him see everything. She whispered sweet words of wealth, adventure and the fulfilment of flesh.
But. Snow couldn't shake off that feeling. He knew that if he opened his heart, what awaited him would be something far worse. A fate that made death seem like a blessing.
Snow trusted his guts. And he rejected her.
"I'm sorry, Lyara. I can never be with you. My love is for the stage."
And Lyara's smile froze. No one had dared to reject her, to refuse her of her wishes. He was the first.
That only made her want him more. And now, she would do anything to have him.
Snow was raised by a dancer, River Pond. A woman that had been in the circus for all her life. She was only around her thirties when she found Snow laying on the snow.
An infant that was abandoned by his parents, unwanted and unloved.
His white skin and little baby face touched her heart. So River took him in and raised him as her own. She cared for him, taught him how to speak, guided him how to walk and introduced him to the actors group when he had shown interest in becoming one.
She was, by every means, his mother. A mother that was not bound by blood.
Time went by and Snow was now sixteen years old.
And River's forty-ninth birthday was coming. Snow used all his savings to buy her a small cake and some candles.
It might not be much but it's everything he could do.
That night, he sneaked into River's room to surprise her. To show her how loved she was and that he would always be her son.
But what's waiting for him was something he could never have imagined.
River laid on the bed, bloody and a knife in her chest. A knife that belonged to Snow.
A dancer walked into the room and screamed. She saw everything. The cake on the table. The cold corpse of River. And the bloody weeping Snow.
He had come to hold her, to hug her and to feel her warmth. But she was cold as ice. He couldn't believe that she was dead.
She was everything he had left.
The murder weapon was there. The witness was there. The murderer was also there.
Snow was guilty in the eyes of everyone and he was sent to prison that very night.
He didn't plead for himself as he did not know how. He screamed but no one listened to a murderer.
Snow was left there to rot.
That wasn't the end of his misery. The guards beat him frequently. They tortured him both mentally and physically.
He was given no bed nor blanket and had to sleep on the cold stone floor.
The guard rarely gave him food, feeding him only when he was on the verge of breaking down. They made sure he was suffering but not dead.
Snow didn't understand why it had come to this. He didn't deserve any of this. He raged with vengeance.
One day, a familiar face appeared. Lyara, with her blazing red hair, came to see him. She asked him once more.
"Please, Snow. Please, my love. Come with me. I'll help you. I'll make it all go away." Her voice was soft and low, seducing like the devil over his ears.
Once more, he refused.
"No."
Lyara's expression turned. All the love disappeared and only cruelty was left.
"You dumb bastard," she said, "If you just accepted me, your whore of a mother wouldn't need to die."
Snow finally understood it all. Everything had happened because of him. He killed River. He pushed her to death.
"No," he thought. It wasn't his fault. It was the fault of this demon with an angel face.
Snow rushed to the doorcell and grabbed the bars. He shook it with all his might but none budged. He wanted to kill her right then and there.
But he couldn't. He did not have the power.
Lyara, with her shameless smugness, looked down at Snow then turned her back to leave.
"Farewell, circus boy."
After she left, Snow crumbled down on the stone floor like a dead man, not moving, not speaking, and barely breathing.
He wished for vengeance. He wished to kill everyone that had wronged him.
"Lyara Starcrow."
"Thane Beaumort."
"The assassin."
He spoke to himself and to anyone out there that could hear him.
"Demon… God… Monster… Anyone that can hear me. I wish for vengeance in exchange for everything that I have."
His prayer was answered.
"My dear Snow, what a sad fate God has given you."
Snow opened his eyes wide. In front of him, an old man that looked like he could die at any moment. But under that weak facade was a dangerous soul that could vanquish any demons.
He was no less dangerous than the girl who destroyed Snow's life. Even more so, he was the incarnation of a demon slayer. One that would shake fear into the likes of Lyara.
The old man was the one.
"You are…" Snow's voice was shaking.
"Sir Siderius Satterblade. Master Witch Hunter. Grand Alchemist of Enderthal. Knight of the Holy Order.
I heard your offer."
Snow pushed his weak body up, his piercing gaze met with the cold indifferent eyes of Siderius.
"The names…" Snow said.
"I heard…" Siderius answered.
"Kill them…" Snow said.
"I will…" Siderius answered.
"I am yours…" Snow uttered his last words.
And Siderius spoke to Snow the last thing he would hear as himself. "And I promise you. I will rain down FIRE and PAIN to those who have wronged you."
Snow, the actor, had heard enough. He closed his eyes.
Siderius turned into a beam of light and pierced into the head of the circus boy.
From that day on, Snow was no more. There was only Sir Siderius 'Snow' Satterblade left in this world. They were no longer two but became one.
An old soul of violence and bloodlust.
A young soul that was full of rage and vengeance.
And now these two were united.
Sir Siderius Satterblade had never betrayed his words. And now, as the new Snow, he would fulfil his part of the deal.