The child's upbringing by the anti-government rebels was anything but peaceful and no less than traumatizing; he had to be in constant disguise to avoid capture by local religious leaders who they knew would turn him over to the government.
After the revelation that the < Unspoken One > had fallen, both the central government and religious citizens fell into turmoil--a period of civil unrest had begun. Though many Selahim were non-religious or revered the < Unspoken One > in a secular way, they suffered for this turmoil nonetheless.
The child's most often employed disguise was a large medical patch over his right cheek to conceal the most visible mark of the < Unspoken One > on his body. Growing up, he often felt confused and lost, and suffered from a learned helplessness. The child did not ever have a chance to protect himself; the rebels wouldn't let him end up in a situation where he had to. Lack of communication and an age barrier between the child and his protectors meant that he never had a concept of what his role was in their found family. The youngest member of the group may have been the greatest cause of his pain. She hailed from a surface mining city of which the center was a giant space elevator to Selah's closest moon.
Many times, she claimed to care about the child, even love him. But, she never acted with his best wishes and well-being in mind. She was calculating and manipulative, and did whatever she felt was necessary to keep him on the rebels' side during the period of unrest. What kept her clinging to him was her knowledge of his strategic importance, and the loveless mock-familial give and take they shared damaged the child's perception of love for the rest of his life.
The rebels used subtle fear tactics as in familial abuse to keep the child believing they were the only ones who could keep him safe and alive. Though the rebels never allowed him independence, he was made to do odd jobs to support their group. What he didn't know in his childhood was that every ounce of care, every loving act was a preparation for the war the rebels planned to wage against the government with him as their main weapon. Nor could he have known how much the rebels feared him and his great power.
The years progressed, but the religious government did not. They grew weaker by the day as new doctrine spewed from the mouths of betrayed, miserable, fixated scholars and priests: the spoken one was unholy, and we must not sink to his level. We must not allow ourselves to succumb to our desires as he did. Every day, we must continue to betray the flesh. We must not fight each other--would he not want that? The religious of Selah could not see from any perspective other than that which was now outdated. They could not continue to support the unbeing they so venerated, even as he came to be by his own pure choice.
The rebels were no longer satisfied with the spoken one's little tricks. They now intended to use his power for a more dangerous cause: he was to assassinate each member of the Selahi religious government until none remained. Though the government was weak, they continued to maintain armed forces that remained loyal to their authority. The rebels knew of the religious government's soldiers and felt no fear. Compared to their reality bender, what power did they have? The spoken one could kill in ways unimaginable. Within seconds, he could evaporate your blood, fill you with wooden splinters, stop your heart, turn your organs to pure energy...
The spoken one was a gentle man, but his mind had been deeply twisted by the manipulation of the rebels. So he did it by none of his own will, counter to the protests of his exhausted form. Scholars of the < Unspoken One >, preachers of metaphysicality, and rich councilmen alike fell soundlessly in their homes. The spoken one left no trace of his hits until he realized he could no longer recall how many he had killed, and his body erupted in a sorrowful rage. Alone in the courtyard of a wealthy priest, he shed a drop of blood. Something had cut through his cheek from the inside.
The sudden, traceless killings frightened the Selahi government. In all their panic, they forgot the most important thing--the spoken one. It must have been the underground rebels doing the assassinations. They must have developed new technologies that the government did not yet have. How could it be anyone else? When they charged their soldiers, armed with slow guns and blades, into what they had learned was the rebels' underground base, they did not expect to see their living disgrace. They did not expect to see what he could do without any weapon known to the public of Selah. The dark warehouse erupted with gore. The rebels, unarmed and shockingly unafraid, egged on their reality bender.
They felt invincible behind the shield of his existence. They barely noticed when, after imploding the bodies of more than fifteen government soldiers, their reality bender's skin began to tear in three places. More soldiers were being called in, but it was far too late. The spoken one's Moons tore slowly through his cheek and sides. His lucidity left with the blood that gushed from his open wounds. High on success and ignoring the smell of carnage surrounding them, the rebels failed to notice when the spoken one pinned their youngest member to the wall and dessicated her fully conscious body. The others soon followed. The reinforcements never arrived, and the spoken one was left alone in the bloody warehouse. His Moons, having become physical and grown onto his bones from the immense stress he endured, separated from his skeleton and left his body open to infection. He bled out rapidly, and as he faded from consciousness, the warehouse walls began to glow with an unearthly blue light.
When the remaining officials of the (now dissolved out of fear) government connected the bloody deaths of their soldiers to the assassinations of their councilmen, the spoken one had been dead for hours.