Though it may have rights and wrongs, it is nevertheless a fact that one night, many years ago, survival instinct saved the world.

At 10:00 pm, (midnight would have been too spooky and sinister) a faint purple glow appeared on the doorstep of 13 Inauspicious Lane. It grew steadily grew brighter, until it was a sparkling beacon of violet light. The air shimmered and rippled around it, dogs barking and cats screeching, fearing this unearthly light. It cut off suddenly, sparks diffusing onto the dead, yellow lawn of number 13, changing the size, angle and colour of the weeds and hay where they landed.

It was then that Mrs. Adlersflügel, an old German widow who hated children opened the door to find out what was going on. She had been reading a dusty book which looked to be centuries old when her reading light flickered and all the dogs in the neighbourhood had begun to bark.

She despised all children, especially infants and, though she looked to be a fragile old lady with arthritis, wrinkled skin, a stooped back and sunken eyes, she held a powerful shotgun in her hands, and looked as though she knew how to use it.

The dogs had quietened down by now, but she decided to observe the neighbourhood carefully before closing the door, for she was a cautious woman, and didn’t want to miss something important. Her head slowly swung from left, to right, then back to face the front. She painfully craned her neck to look up at the stars and smiled. She glanced down before closing the door, then double-took, opening it again as fast as her aching joints would allow her.

A small bundle of sheets sat on the doormat, on which the words “Welcome!” were printed untruthfully in elaborate writing. Looking closer, she saw a small sleeping face, extremely pale, with faint eyebrows and a tuft of solid black hair tucked neatly into behind his ear. The eyes were large, and although she could not see them, she instinctively knew that they would be wide and inquisitive.

Barely any people would dare interrupt such a peaceful sleep. Unfortunately, that tiny list included Mrs. Adlersflügel. Mrs. Adlersflügel bent over the child, wondering what to do with it. She sniffed in disgust. A simple idea popped into her mind, one that she would not deny. I’ll go leave it on someone else’s doorstep. She thought they can deal with him.

No sooner had she thought this than the child’s eyes snapped open, but they did not belong to any normal human being. The whites of the eyes were not… white – they were as dark as the blackest night. The irises, a deep purple. The pupils were tiny white points, like two stars picked from the sky that looked apon this fateful night.

This child was using his survival instinct – defending himself with all his abilities, even the unearthly ones. It was then that a curious change came over Mrs. Adlerflügel. For all her life she had despised children, but now she had a strange desire to take this child in and care for him. Behind her, in the house, an average size room had grown out of the wall and a crib was emerging from the floor.

The child’s eyes faded to normal, albeit keeping the purple iris, and slowly closed. Mrs. Adlerflügel lifted the child up and she did, a note slipped out of the sheets. It was written in a messy hand, but yet was extremely complex and still readable.

His name is Diordnas Darkun.

She smiled. What a strange name, she thought. She lifted the child up the stairs into the new bedroom, although, to Mrs. Aldersflügel, It seemed it had always been there.