The Popularity of the Mirratord continues to grow, and since I created them orginally, I felt it necessary to give you the "OFFICIAL" back story. This is dedicated to you, the Fans of the Mirratord.

The Miratord

Section 1: One Child, One Destiny

"The Sixth Age of Doubt"
Home sector of "The Fleet of Divine Light"
June 8, 2434 : Sol Relative Time

Dust crept into his lungs as the blazing sun sat high overhead. The desert was ruthless, even to the most adept. For as far as his young eyes could see lay nothing but endless wasteland. Sweat beaded from beneath his garb and each massive step from his hoofs became more and more of a struggle. He kept his hood upon his head in the hopes that the sun would not bake him, even though his dark Sangheili skin was perfect against the suns harsh rays it was wise to keep himself covered or the sun would only increase his exhaustion.

The Sangheili youth was lost, and there was nothing left to do but push on. His trainer had warned him, but youthful minds pay no attention to wise elders. He had long lost his way, wondering aimlessly across the sand dunes of the Bacione desert. For three days he had been wondering with only the sun and stars as his guide. He followed the direction of the sun; day and night. In the morning he made sure that the sun was at his direct back, and stepped on his shadow. At noon he would rest, and at sunset he faced the sun until it vanished directly in his path. This was his only thriving purpose for now, to push on in the hot wasteland and avoid the snapping wail of death.

He pulled a mask off of his hip lock and placed it upon his face, covering his lower and upper mandibles. He then pressed a small switch on the mask and water vapor began to spray into his mouth. He drank it cautiously, knowing that the mist would have to last longer than it was intended. Yet it suddenly stopped, and began to beep softly. He ripped it from his face and cursed in his Sangheili tongue.

"Why have my ancestors forsaken me?" His roar channeled across the desert mounds, yet it was silently washed away by a strong wind. He crumbled to his knees; thirsty, hungry and tired, even his hoofs ached beyond compare. He leaned forward and crumbled into the sand. He had to stop; he had to regain his composure and wits. This couldn't be the end, there had to be away to survive. This was not what he had wanted to achieve.

The sun rose high over his head and he slowly pulled his hood and cloak over himself. The suns strong rays would only make him more tired, so he settled on the heat of his hood. He grew increasingly angry with himself as he sat motionless in the heat, and pondered how he had made such a horrible mistake.

- - - - - - - -

Three Years Ago…

"Start over, and this time do them in unison!" The wise Sangheili warrior ordered. He had no name, thusly meaning he was not worthy of such praise. He had no mate, no children, no history; he was simply an enigma that existed to train the un-trainable. For nearly eighty years young political children that were spoiled and disobedient were sent to his home and trained to be warriors; the best warriors. His training method was cruel and brutal, but Sangheili blood would have it no other way. To be a warrior meant sacrifice, discipline, common sense, a clear mind, and most importantly strength.

He glared at the young Sangheili children before him, "None of you will be worthy of entering the Holy Prophet's Academy at this rate. Become Watchmen? None of you are worthy of such a title!" He kicked out at a youthful warrior that dared to glare at him; hitting the young trainee in the mid section. "Do you wish to test me? Do you think you can challenge me? You lack respect for your elders!"

A snicker echoed from the corner of the small training hall, "He calls himself an Elder and he has no name." To the Sangheili a name was a precious thing, it was an honor and a gift to upheld, but to exist without a name meant you were the lowest of the race.

The elder strode down the isle of students, they all looked up as he passed, and made his way to the student that had made the comment. With little effort he gripped the child's throat and lifted him off the floor. The child squirmed as the elder snarled into his face.

"And you think you are better than me!" The groan in his voice bellowed into a full roar. The child held on to his arm, terrified. The elder turned and faced the other young. "Finish your leg squats, one hundred of them before I return!" He dropped the child and gripped him by the collar of his training clothes. The loose fabric tore slightly from his aggressive grip as he pulled him to the back of his training hall. He aggressively kicked the door open and slung the young Sangheili into the muddy soil.

It had rained all night, and the forested region was hazy with humidity. The young child huffed as he wiped the mud and muck from his face, and the act left him blind to the oncoming barrage. He had little time to react as the elder hit him fully in the jaw. The young child whimpered as he was tossed several feet by the blow. He head hurt from the blow and his balance was completely gone. He staggered to his feet as tears swelled in his eyes.

"Tears?" The elder roared. He kicked the young trainee and cupped his head in his hand. "You would show your weakness to an opponent?" The elder gritted his mandibles tightly and tossed the child back into the mud. He then pinned his head and shoved it into the ground. The child's purple-blue blood began to drip from his mouth as he sat up. He began to crawl away, fearful of his life. The child looked up and could see several other elder trainers only a few meters away, close enough to help him. He cried out for help, but they didn't care. They could clearly see what was happening, but they made no motion to interfere. They knew who he was; another spoiled child from a political family. Some of the other trainers even laughed as the boy begged for help. The elder stepped on the boys back, pinning him to the ground and forcing the wind from his lungs. He gasped as pain swelled throughout his body.

The elder leaned closer and whispered into the child's ear. "Did you think they would help you, a weakling? Look at you; covered in mud, crying, and begging for help. To the Sangheili, only the strong survive. I may not have a name, but my skill as a warrior is second to none!" He stomped on the child's back, breaking a rib, and the male youth cried out in pain.

"You will learn, young one… you will learn to respect anyone that is your superior. Since the days of the Prophets, all of our young have become weaker and weaker, but not you. You will be among the best and you will learn respect and honor of all Sangheili Warriors. You will understand, because I will break you if you don't." With one last kick, the elder walked away from the crying youth and returned to the training hall.

The beaten and sobbing child sat up from his prone position. Mud covered his training robes and blood dripped from his mandibles. He slowly crawled to a tree and braced himself against it. His wounds would heal, but not his pride. If he had any respect amongst his fellow students it was instantly taken away from him. Why had the elder become so angry with him? Why take it this far? The child was young, but not stupid. He felt as though the elder was picking on him.

He wiped the mud from off his face and felt a loose tooth. Stretching his mandible wide, he gripped the tooth with his fingers and snatched it from his mouth. It only hurt a little, as the majority of the damage was done by the elders punch. The child stood and winced in pain as he felt the broken rib in his back shift with his muscles. There was no way he could continue training with such an awkward injury. He couldn't take a deep breath of air without the bone shifting. The elder was going to get angry at him again if he couldn't continue training. He began to feel tears roll down his face and he dried his eyes. He watched as the older students and their trainers ran passed him. They had seen him get beaten by the elder of the trainers, but instead of mocking him in passing, they stay focused in their drills and didn't comment. He had acted like such a child, crying out for help, and sobbing in the mud, he wanted to take it all back, take back his comment and forget that any of this had ever happened, but it was too late for wishful thinking.

He turned away from the older students and cautiously began to walk toward the training hall. The door ahead of him opened and a female Sangheili stepped out. She quickly scanned the area and spotted him. He slowly made her way to him and knelt down to eye level.

"Your jaw is swollen, young one." Her voice was deep, yet soft, normal for a female. "Any other injuries?

"My back." He replied softly. "Why did he attack me?"

"Because you think you are better than everyone here. It seems that aggression is the only thing you understand."

"I am better than all of them! My father is …" His words were cut short as the nurse smacked him across the face with the open stretch of her palm. She stood tall and glared down at him.

"You have no father while you are in the master's care!" She softly, yet with strong aggression, replied. She wasn't very strong, being a young Sangheili male didn't mean he was weak; he simply brushed off the sting in his mandible. He was tempted to growl at her, but one beating was enough for the day. Master; that was what she had called the elder of the training camp, but he didn't understand why.

She turned and began to walk away, motioning for him to follow. "You are nothing but an unskilled child, living off of your family's name. You have only been here for two weeks, but soon you will understand that it takes more than your family name and wealth to make you better than any Sangheili. The master informed me that he felt your lower back rib give under his weight. Come with me to the medical tent, and I'll heal you."

They entered the tent and the child was directed to a back cot. Several females were examining the older trainees that had been injured during training, the moan of pain seemed to be constant. The young child lay on his stomach and folded his arms under his chin while the nurse examined his back. She pulled up his shirt, and quickly noticed the massive bruise from the masters hoof print. She snickered softly to herself, the brat got what he deserved.

"May ask a question?" He cautiously asked.

She placed a small metal disk upon his back and attached it to another device. "I assume I can permit it, granted nothing insulting parts your teeth."

"Why do you call the elder trainer, Master? Are you his slave?"

She powered on the device, and sent several low voltage jolts of electricity and a strange healing agent into the broken bone. The sensation was tolerable. "This will need to run for several units, but when it is complete you will be able to train with mild discomfort. As for your question, young one, I address him as Master because he owns this land, and the facility. Thanks to him, I was able to have a purpose and a loving mate. I am in his services until I am no longer needed."

"But he has no name… no title. How can he have so much?" The child brought up good questions, typical of his upbringing and family line.

"You are too smart for your own good." She smirked. "When the time to know the truth comes, the master will tell you, but until then you will have to wait."

The tent door parted and the elder and three older students strode down the central hall of the massive medical tent. All eyes turned to him. The females bowed respectfully at his presence and the young trainees stood at attention; though minding their injuries.

The nurse turned to the young boy and pushed him to his feet; leaving the device connected to his back. She bowed swiftly, and the young Sangheili watched her. He followed suit; stood tall, chest out, hands at his side, and eyes straight ahead at full attention.

The elder stood before him and huffed, "How bad are his injuries?"

"Two units and he will be ready to return to training, Master."

"See to it that he is. He has already missed several important teaching sermons." He huffed deeply one last time, directed directly at the young child. He then spun on his back hoof and began to exit the tent; the three older trainees followed closely behind.

The atmosphere in the tent returned to normal as everyone looked to the young child that the Master had just approached. The nurse at his side smirked with her two left mandibles and looked at the young Sangheili male closely.

"He certainly has taken a liking to you. In all my years I have rarely seen him check up on a wounded youngling." She pushed him back onto the cot and examined the healing system; technology that she barely understood, but had trained thoroughly in using it.

"What do you mean?"

"Rest while you can young one. The master is determined to teach you discipline and respect." She softly whispered as she began to walk away from his cot. "I will return shortly."

- - - - - - - -

The air within his cloak was beginning to cool, a clear signal that the sun was setting. The harsh desert heat was about to become a cold wasteland of silence. He stood from his short nap and brushed the memory of his youth away. His life at the elders training camp was hard, he never thought he would survive it, but he did. He was finally accepted into the Academy like so many of his Sangheili brethren. But the life of a Warrior was not what he wanted. He didn't want to go to the Academy and learn military discipline, the code of conduct, the history of the Prophets and to meet the other members of the Covenant. That wasn't what he wanted.

He ran away.

He stood and pulled the hood from his head. He watched as the sun slowly fell in the distance and he began to walk. But he suddenly found himself stumbling forward, his body jolted from an aggressive shove. He rolled forward, twisted his hips and angled himself so that he could see what or who was behind him.

"Master?" His young eyes quivered in shame as he slowly stood to his feet. "Where did you…"

"They told me that you did not show up for the first day." He gruffly stated. "And of all places to run to and hide, you chose this hellish place."

"Master, I…"

"Enough! I gave you three years of training, and this is how you accept my gift? You coward!" The master lunged with an overhand punch. Though exhausted, the young Sangheili dodged it effortlessly. "You were the best to come out of my camp in many years! And then you humiliate me by fleeing the Academy… running from your duty!"

"Master, I have no desire to serve the Prophets!"

"Who cares about the Hierarchs? The Academy is all we have as a race, the only thing we have that survived our absorption into the Covenant. It is our tradition!" The master motioned towards him again, but he backed away. His legs grew weak, and he stumbled under his own weight. The master punched, but the young Sangheili blocked it. Another swing came, and he dodged it. He then gripped the master in a headlock and held him at bay. He was tired, and could no longer avoid the masters incredible speed and strength.

"Release me!" The master demanded with a high deafening scowl.

"Master, you can't make me go back!" He released the elder and backed away. He hoped it was over, as he had spent the last of his energy on the desperation move. He fell to his knees and huffed. Three days of walking in the baking desert had finally caught up to him.

"Do not be like me." The master stated softly. "Do not follow my path."

He glared at the master's back and questioned, "What do you mean?"

"You asked me, last week you asked me. At your final day at my camp, you asked me…"

"I asked you why it was that a Sangheili warrior with such respect and honor as you, walks amongst us without a name."

The master turned and looked into his eyes. "Because young one, I did what you are about to do now. I ran away. I turned my back on everything. I swore myself to never follow the teachings of the Prophets… the Hierarchs. But I was wrong. I can not do anything for my kin as an outcast. My family lineage was ripped from me, and my heritage lost. After sixty years of wondering the world alone, I finally decided to do my part. I trained, I trained alone and against nature. I sparred against random travelers for sport. And soon, I became infamous as a warrior that could test any Sangheili's skill. They came in search of me, and I defeated the best Warriors in the Covenant Fleet. There was no one who could stop me in my youth. For a hundred years I fought and bested any opponent, and learned from each victory. But then a young child came to me, a child that hated his family and the teachings of his superiors. I trained him, taught him honor and respect. And then I saw my calling. I began to plant the seed within those who felt what I did, but I made them go back. I made them enter the Academy and serve."

"Master… " The young Sangheili questioned.

"Only two children have ever bested me upon their graduation from my camp. You are the third. You are only twelve years old, a mere child in a Sangheili's eye. You have become a true warrior worthy of legend; yet you have decided to turn your back on it all."

"Master, I can not serve under the Prophets command. There is something… Something I can not see that tells me to be cautious."

"So many others have told me the same thing." The master pressed several keystrokes on his wrist pad, and a small vehicle began to speed toward them. It was boxed shaped and colored with a dark metal purple, yet floated like the new military vehicles that he had seen on display in the cities; ghosts. "I will be leaving you here, or taking you with me. The choice is yours."

"Master, why? Order me to enter the Academy and I will obey your every word. But on my own accord I will not join. For what reason should I follow the Prophets and their gods?" The vehicle stopped at the Master's side and the side door opened. The nurse that had bandaged his wounds over the last three years stepped out followed by her mate, a large male Soldier that the young Sangheili had never met.

"Because the only way to protect our people is to be inside the Covenant. To climb the structure of ranks that the Prophets have created, and watch them. Your father was honorable enough to earn a seat upon the High Council of Elites, and there he could make a difference."

The young Sangheili thought upon the words of his Master. He was right, running would not help him avoid conflict, and though he had no desire of being a warrior, he was naturally good at it. He stood and faced his master, the nurse and her mate. He then looked toward the setting sun.

The nurse voiced, "If you wish to follow that sun, then none of us will stop you. I will give you three hydrators, which should help you finish your journey. The choice is yours young one."

The master then added, "All of your training, all of your skill, all that you have learned from me… will you throw it away, or will you harness it? You said that something is telling you to be cautious of them. If the time comes, where would you rather be; far away from them, or standing at their throats with your blade ready to spill their blood?"

The nurse stepped from the vehicle and placed three hydrator masks into the young Sangheili's hands. "On your final day at our camp, the master honored you with your military name. It was a proud day for everyone in your class. If you follow the sun, you must part with that name. What will be your choice -- Simyaldee?"

To be continued

NOTES: This is the last Side Triliogy back story before book 3... enjoy while it lasts. Feedback greatly appreciated.