Since the beginning of time, man has held great power. People who could do wonderous things were considered Gods and soon the bodies of these early humans began to create tattoos in the skin to mark the being as powerful.

As civilizations grew, so did the meanings of these marked people and books were written on how these people should be treated, how they should be seen. One man, by the name of Adam, created a book on the system of these marks. He wrote how the placement of these marks showed the strength of the power and the color showed the purpose. It was this same man that concluded and showed the world that these gifted people were actually beneath those without power. The people sucked this information in, taking to burning the homes of these marked people and enslaving them.

A few thousand years later and the people who had once been worshipped were still enslaved, with only one glimmer of hope. A master could present their marked slave with an item of worth to set them free; a rare occurrence. The marked people never knew their powers, for once discovered, an inhibitor was implanted in their neck. With no ability to defend themselves, these people worked in fear.

It was winter in England, the sky a light gray as snow lazily drifted down from the heavens. No one paid attention to the small figure scrunched up against the brick wall, not one glance was sent his way. Not one, until a man in a rich black suit and top hat stopped in front of the boy.

"It's nearly time for supper young man. You best be off to home now." The man said as he crouched down to get a better look at the child in front of him. He watched as the child lifted his head and peered at him with stunning silver eyes, the ratty blanket covering the boy moving to show ivory locks of hair coated in dirt.

"Come now, you must be freezing. Up with you now." The man tried once more, waiting as the child looked at him in confusion.

"Why're ya talkin' ta me?" the boy whispered.

"Why? You look cold and I can see the longing of warmth in those large eyes of yours. I bet a warm fire and some hot soup will perk you right back up in no time. But we best be off before the light runs out." The boy seemed to like this answer for he slowly stood and shook some snow from his body. At full height, the boy maybe reached three feet and was very thin. The man, who had stood up when the boy had, bent down and picked the child up into his arms and walked into the street towards a carriage.

"Cornwall, please." The man said to the carriage driver as he got into the carriage with the boy. The other man nodded once and shook the reins, the horse neighing in annoyance before going, dragging the carriage behind them.

"Well, young man, we'll be at the manor in an hour or so. What might your name be? I should like to find your parents before they worry too much about you."

"I don't got a name. My parents are gone." was all the boy said before turning his head to observe the land as they passed it by.

"No name? Well I am Sir Mana Walker, and if you have no name then I shall come up with one for you, no one should go on without a name." Mana said cheekily, giving the boy a silly smile. The boy smiled a little and looked down at his lap.

"I'd like that, sir."

"Now now, no need to use 'sir' my dear boy. Why, it makes me feel quite old indeed. But I believe that I have the perfect name for a young man such as yourself. Allen. What do you think?"

The newly named Allen looked at Mana with round eyes, tears beginning to fill his sight.

"I love it. Thank you." Allen whispered.

The two sat in companionable silence until a large manor came into view. Mana smiled and once they stopped, helped Allen out of the carriage.

"Welcome to your new home!" Mana exclaimed merrily as he ushered the boy into the mansion with haste. Servants milling about stood at attention when the master of the house came in.

"This child is Allen, he is our guest. Please find him some new clothes as well as give him a bath. Prepare us supper as well." The man said as he handed the boy off to an elderly woman before heading towards the study.

"Right this way Young Master Allen, you must be freezing in those damp clothes. Mary! Draw the bath!" she screeched as she led Allen towards a bathing room where steaming water filled the rather large tub.

As the elderly woman began to tug on Allen's clothes, the boy shrunk away. Not seeming to take the hint, the woman plucked the shirt off to reveal a pale chest and a striking red arm.

"Marked…" she whispered before running out of the room. Not knowing what else to do, Allen finished stripping and got into the warm water, sighing loudly when the warmth hit his freezing skin. He grabbed the soap and began to lather himself, remembering how to do it after a nun, who had never told the guards about him, showed him how to bathe himself.

He then looked at the rather expensive looking bottle of oil for his hair and began to scrub the dirt away when the door to the bathing room opened. In the doorway stood Mana, his breath erratic. The man's nostrils flared and his eyes darted to the red arm.

"Omega and Marked." Allen sunk down to hide himself a little, he didn't want to be thrown out, or worse, enslaved.

"Agnes, go get Mother." Mana said as he came up to Allen who still sat in the tub.

"Allen, listen to me. Do you know what a Marked person is?" Allen nodded.

"Good. Can you keep a secret?" Allen nodded once more.

"My brother is Marked. He was taken from me and I have not seen him in some years. I will not let that happen to you. We will hide your Mark for as long as we can. But you must promise me something. You must never tell a soul about your Mark. Not even the other staff. Only me, Agnes, and Mother will know. Do you understand?" Mana explained, grabbing Allen's left arm and caressing the appendage.

Allen looked at Mana and watched as Agnes returned with another elderly woman who must be Mother.

"I understand. Thank you, sir." Mana smiled softly.

"Call me Mana, my dear sweet child."