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The sounds of the fight carried through the empty streets and deserted buildings of downtown Sikara Miziami. Xander smiled darkly and nodded to Salem as they both drew their swords. There were other places thy needed to be.
An hour later, they were walking through one of the city’s many alleyways while counting the money they’d found in the wallet’s of their now unconscious opponents. Salem pushed his short, messy jet-black hair out of his eyes and shared a grin with his white-haired friend. They’d made a good prophet off that last gang.
For as long as either of them could remember, they had been together – friends, comrades, in a way, brothers – they’d been through a lot. Somehow, this bond had made them like yin and yang. Salem was the kind, black yang and Xander was the cold, white yin who only warmed when with his other half. Even their appearances showed this. Xander had icy, near-white silver- blue eyes and long white hair. Salem, on the other hand, had dark, mysterious eyes that were deep midnight blue with steel and violet flecks.
They were both tall and both wore long, deadly swords sheathed on their backs. These had been gifts ten years earlier from their trainer when they finished their advanced training, at the age of nine years old. Each sword held the spirit symbol of the animal that best represented each boy. For Xander it was the Siberian tiger, the largest and most deadly cat on Earth. And for Salem, it was the wolf, one of the smartest, most cunning predators in existence.
While Xander and Salem celebrated their small victory, our story truly began…

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