Chapter Text
It was a rather warm Summer when Zandik was born. Since day one he was seen as something cruel. Something unsettling. His parents were loyal to the Dendro Archon, more than they should have been. They thought of Zandik as the devil himself, because of his strinking blue wavy hair and crimson red eyes. No one was like this. No normal toddler looked like him.
The day he was born, his father waited excitedly outside, but when he first laid his eyes on him… his face went pale. Zandik’s mother couldn’t look at him. There were no logical reason behind their coldness. They just saw him as something dangerous and evil that one day will cost their life.
As Zandik became older, his parents became more and more distant. He tried to cope with it, but it became harder and harder, day by day. He wasn’t home much. Even at the age of four he was wandering around Sumeru’s busy streets all alone. The Sumerians’ when they noticed him, shot him a weird or a disgusted like look. They were just as much distant as his parents.
But he found peace in studying. Learning new things, but especially monitoring the Aranaras. Zandik found them fascinating. He made multiple notes, stayed up late in his dimply litted and dustful room, just to scribble down a few more observation before his ink fully dry out. He kept those notes under his single worm out pillow. Keeping almost sealing them away in a childish way. He thought his parents will never find it. And he was right. They never searched for it, because they didn’t know its existence.
As he grew older and older his father couldn’t take it anymore.
Exactly on his 8th birthday Zandik’s father almost broke his door. He grabbed the still small and fragile Zandik by his hand and started dragging him forcefully toward their enchanted pool of water in their lower part of the house. Zandik tried to fight, but it was useless. He was too small and fragile and that man was at least 6’5 (200cm) tall. His father didn’t even bother to drag him down the stairs, he simply pushed him down, for “faster transport”. The child didn’t had enough time to stand up, his father grabbed him by his hair and started dragging him again with now more force. Zandik let out a pained cry, but if he didn’t cooperate it would be ten times worse.
When they have finally arrived Zandik’s father let him go and pushed him toward the pool like thing. His father voice, cruel and cold as ever said those few devastating words like it was an normal day.
“Hurry up and take off those worn out clothes of yours!”
Zandik couldn’t help, but flinch at the sharp voice. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t know the water. He didn’t know what his father will do to him. And he was scared. Zandik felt as the tears started to well up in his eyes. And for the first time in his 8 years… he was unsure what to do. He couldn’t swim, maybe his father wanted to take advantage of that. He could be easily dragged around as a ragdoll and that kind of thought terrified him even more than the water itself.
After a few moments his father punched him hard enough to draw blood.
”Didn’t you hear me?! Strip! Now, you useless brat!”
There was no other choice left and it was as clear as the beautiful night Sumerian sky. The little Zandik fought through tears, but didn’t complain nor hesitated no more. It was useless and he didn’t want another punch like that. When he was fully undressed, without giving any further explination his father pushed him inside the water.
Zandik panicked. He tried to swim, tried to survive but he couldn’t. He tried to scream but the water didn’t let him and evetually he sinked deep down. He thought this was the end. But fortunetly his father grabbed him by his arm and pulled him put just enough to take a deep breath then letting go again. Over and over again. But each time he caught new details.
His mother started to putting candles around the pool, gently and with more care than he gave Zandik ever she started lightning up the candles one by one. Zandik understood nothing. He was scared and that unsettling feeling now caused him nausea. His mother suddenly left, then came back with a little statue of the Dendro Archon. Zandik had never seen it before. But there were a lot of places were he was not allowed to go. His mother placed the statue right in the middle.
She handed Zandik’s father something sharp and cruel looking. It looked like a simple scrubber, that people used for cleaning up. But it was sharp and made of steel. His father now secured Zandik’s legs between his, keeping a tight grip on him. His mother knelt in front of the Dendro Archon’s statue and started chanting something. Zandik didn’t realize what his father was doing until he felt it. The steel scrubber was tightly pressed against his back and in fast motion his fatzer started scrubbing him. Not with carrying, but with string and determined cruelty.
Zandik felt as the sharp fangs of the steel going deep under his skin. He couldn’t help but scream. Scream in the hope someone will help him, someone will surely save him… right?… Right? His father let out a satisfied laugh when he saw the first trickle of blood. But he didn’t stop. He scrubbed it harder. Not just his back, but his chest and most vulnerable parts too until it started bleeding. Zandik was crying. He couldn’t do more. It wasn’t only just traumatising, but terrifying at the same time. His whole body was sore.
When his father finally finished he ket him sink deep into the pool once more, then harshly pulled him out.
His mother wrapped his wound with some kind of herbs that sting so much that it felt like his wound are on fire. Once he was ready Zandik’s father dragged him up the stairs and pushed him inside his room, locking the door on Zandik.
The little boy curled up on the floor, hugging the pilloe, like it could help in this disgusting situation. He didn’t cry… not anymore. But he was furious. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hatred. Hatred leads to murder. And that moment… Zandik decided that he will end this with his own hands whenever he gets the opportunity… it will be taken.
Outside his room, his parents were cleaning up the mess that was made by the candles and Zandik himself. His mother told a last prayer to the statue before looking at Zandik’s father.
“Do you think we succeded?” She asked her voice was unusally tender.
“I believe we did.” His voice was stern as always, but an underlying relief.
The years went by slowly and painfully.
Zandik was waiting for his time. The time for irreversible revenge. And that time. He schedueled it on his 18th birthday. He had the Akademiya to live and there would be no suspicous people if he masked this well… oh, and he did masked it well, with the perfect and unquestionable alibi.
When the day arrived it was the same as other days. Cold and harsh. His parents didn’t gratulate him nor even looked at him. When the night arrived Zandik made it look like he was heading back to the Akademiya. But that never happened. Insted he went in a small alley, the one he and only he knew about. It led him exactly to the backyard of their house. He slowly crawled in the opened window an dhid under his parents bed.
As it became later and later he heard footsteps. It was his mother. Delicate, gently, but undeniably disgustingly rotten. He didn’t hesitated. Zandik grabbed her ankle any dragged her under the bed, while breaking her larynx making her silent and slowly, savoring every second he started cutting. Her face, her body, everything until she was motionless and dead.
“Goodbye… Mother.” He said with a smirk on his face.
Then came his father. What a careless man. He didn’t even look around for his wife. That man was not as feather weight as the woman. Zandik had to wait until he falls asleep which was always relativly fast.
It only took a few minutes then came the same process, broke the larynx, then cut until he bleeds out.
Zandik watched as the life left his father’s body. As he took his last breath. But before dying… he reached towards Zandik and tried to say something, but because of the broken larynx he was uncapable of even letting out a little sound. Then he died.
The smirk spread wider around Zandik’s face was he licked his blood covered fingers.
”Goodbye, Father”
On the way out of the house he grabbed the Dendro Archon Statue and broke it with all his strenght, leaving nothing behind just mess… and that was the born of The Doctor.