My eyes flickered open, and a comfortable blanket covered my body as I lay in an unfamiliar bed. Only a thin folded sheet acted as a pillow.

The ceiling was a dark rotting wood. Many of the boards that made it were cracked. While others were replaced with a newer, lighter color.

I pulled the cover away from my crippled body and forced myself to rise from my bed. Attempting to ignore the pain shooting through my wound as I did. I used my one good hand to turn my body and stand by the side of the bed.

I noticed my robe and shirt were missing. Instead, my wound was covered with white bandages with a bloodstain in the center. Whoever brought me here saved my life.

Looking around I saw a dust-covered room. There were some shelves on the nearest wall with three pictures sitting on them. Two of which were impossible to see due to the layer of dirt on the glass.

However, in the third picture, I could barely see the outline of three figures in black and white. A family with a child on the left of the picture. I reached out and cleaned the glass the best I could with my hand and noticed a fourth figure. This time a baby in the arms of the mother.

This picture reminded me of my own family. My parents vanished when I was six years old and I have few memories with them, and my grandmother raised me ever since. She grew ill and passed away when I was eighteen. This was three years ago.

I turned away from the picture when I felt the tears building in my eyes. I saw an empty room with one wardrobe flipped on its side with one leg broken. I was sure it had fallen some time ago.

In the center of the room, there was a small square table, and unlike the rest of the room, it was spotless. Near the corner of the table, there was a fresh, sparkling glass of water.

My mouth began to salivate as I realized just how thirsty I truly was.

I ignored my body’s signals and limped towards the glass. Falling to my knees just short of the table, but still within arms reach. Grasping it with both hands I spilled at least a third of the water before I even reached my mouth. I swallowed every drop in one swift gulp, but I was careless.

The thud from my fall alerted the household of my awakening.

“David, he's awake!” Yelled a woman’s voice from the room just outside mine.

My eyes widened as I heard the quick steps heading towards the door. The handle turned slowly and the blue eyes of a brown-haired woman peered through.

She saw my eyes looking at hers, so she opened the door the remainder of the way. She revealed her lemon yellow top and dirty brown pants. Her hair was undone and messy, but beautiful nonetheless.

While still on my knees, she stepped into the room and said, “Excuse me, do you speak English?”

I was confused by her question. English was the only other language I’ve heard of. It’s taught in every school throughout the capital city.

“Erm,” I mumbled, “I do.”

She exhaled breath and replied, “Oh that’s a relief. You had a book on you written in a language I’ve never seen before.”

I immediately remembered how I had never released the spell that mixed the lettering of the pages.

“That old thing?” I said almost sarcastically, “it was given to me three years ago. Although I can’t read much of it either, it’s still important to me.”

I hoped this would satisfy her.

“Oh,” she sighed. It seemed like she wanted me to speak another language, “well I dried out the pages of your book, and your clothes are hanging in the other room.”

“I see,” I looked down into the empty glass and wondered what this woman would do if she discovered I was a magic wielder. I decided now wasn’t the time to ponder this.

“May I have some more?” I asked as I held up the glass.

A kind smile stretched across her face as she nodded.

“Come on out,” she said while she gestured towards the doorway, “food will be ready soon.”

Why was she being so kind? I did not understand. The last time I saw a human face I was standing at the noose. News of the execution must have not reached her yet. If she knew what I was I’m sure her friendly personality would change.

I placed the palms of my hands flat on the small table and struggled to my feet. The kind woman saw my difficulties and gasped.

“Oh, here! Let me help!” She said, quickly running to my aid.

She grabbed my arm and placed it around her neck. Pulling me to my feet.

“I’ll walk you to the dining area,” she said softly, “Could you tell me your name?”

My name? Vincent Vargus, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. I was in no condition to run, and if she turned me in I’d be done for.

“Eric,” I mumbled, “my name is Eric.”

“Nice to meet you, Eric! My name is Emilie, and in the other room is my little brother, David,” she laughed trying to lighten my mood.

Emilie carried most of my weight and acted as my crutch while we walked through the door. Upon entering the main room there were three rooms in addition to the one I was placed in. The main room was separated into two sections. One side contained shelves, cabinets, and a small fire with a metal pot balanced on the flame with wires.

The other side featured several abstract paintings hanging on the walls, and a somewhat large table with four chairs. Two bowls were set directly across from one another, and the seat closest to the front door was taken by a boy in his young teenage years.

“David look!” Called Emilie, “I told you he’d live.”

David looked at me and saw a stranger. He looked down at the table in front of him and shyly held his hands together in his lap.

Emile whispered in my ear, “he’s not always like this I swear, he’s a real brat when you get to know him.”

Her joke broke my protective wall and brought me to a chuckle.

“See, I hope you’ll open up soon as well.”

I doubted this, but I sat next to David anyway, ready to eat my first meal in a long time. My stomach grumbled at the thought.

Emilie put on some mittens and carried the large pot from the fire.

“I hope you like rabbit stew,” she said, almost bragging about her own cooking, “I caught them myself just this morning!”

Emilie grabbed the bowls for all of us, and one by one she began filling each of them with the stew. It was when she placed them on the table that I realized she had only filled two bowls, and not three.

She must have noticed this as well. She looked in my direction and saw I had no bowl. She realized her mistake instantly.

“Oh Eric, I’m sorry,” she said overly apologetically, “I didn’t realize you’d be awake today. I suppose making only two meals has become a habit.”

She rushed over to the cabinets and pulled out a fork, a bowl, and another glass. Carefully she set them in front of me. She made another lap and proceeded to grab a metal pitcher of water. Filling my glass to the top as I had previously requested.

“Thank you,” I said bashfully.

Emilie knew I was being short, but she didn’t pester. She grabbed the wooden spoon in the pot and stirred for a moment. Then scooping a heavy amount of stew in David’s bow, mine, then her own.

“Thank you, Emilie,” said David in a somewhat raspy voice.

She nodded again and returned the stew to the now low burning fire. After she came and sat with us at the table. Awkwardly I started eating the food.

It was delicious. Better than anything I’ve eaten before.

“This—,” I stuttered, “how did you make this?”

Emilie was overjoyed with my reaction to her cooking. She placed her elbow against the table, her finger against her lips, and shushed me.

“A magician never reveals their secrets,” she said with an evil grin.

I laughed again.

“It’s amazing,” I said just before I devoured another chunk of rabbit.

Her eyes sparkled with my complement, and I smiled at her. Seeing this stranger blush made me forget about all my problems.

We sat and ate the rest of our meal together in silence. I devoured four bowls of stew, and each time forcing Emilie to fetch it for me. The only reason I stopped was the guilt for making her get my food each time. I didn’t want to become too much of a burden.

The light shining through the window started to fade just as Emilie finished cleaning the dishes. David locked himself in his room, but I was made to stay in my seat as I was in no condition to walk on my own.

The silence continued while Emilie scrubbed the last dish in the bucket of water. She turned to me and smiled again.

“I’ll help you to your room if you need me to,” she said.

I wanted to decline the offer but I had no choice. “Yes please,” I grumbled.

She chuckled and said, “Don’t feel bad. I’m happy to help!”

“Thank y—“

“BUT!” She interrupted, “once you’re able to walk you’d better help around the house.”

She said this with one hand on her hip and the other pointing between my eyes. Her demands sounded fair enough, but I still wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“That sounds just fine,” I said.

She walked over to my chair and propped me onto her shoulder again. We started to walk towards the room I had woken up from just a few hours before. I remembered the picture I saw before and curiosity got the better of me.

“Those people,” I said wondering if I should continue, “In the picture. Who were they”

“Oh,” she whimpered, “that one.”

I regretted my decision.

“We took it years ago on an old camera we found in an abandoned house. The two kids are me and David. The two older ones were our mama and papa. They passed away a long time ago.”

I felt horrible for bringing up the topic. I knew how hard it was to lose someone. I saw the look on Emilie’s face and knew it was hard on her, but she continued, still with my arm wrapped around her neck.

“What about you?” She asked to my surprise, “surely you had a family.”

I looked into her soft eyes and knew I had to tell her something truthful.

“I don’t remember my parents much. I was raised by my grandmother and she didn’t like to talk about them.”

“What happened to her?” She asked.

“She grew ill and passed away three years ago,” I replied, “she gave me that book just before she died. That’s why it’s important to me.”

I didn’t realize just how slow we were walking until then. We reached the room and she sat me back on the bed. She started to leave the room after she did so.

“Hey, Emilie?” I called out, “could you bring me my book?”

“Sure thing,” she replied walking out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

She turned into the nearest room on the left, and I sat alone for a few moments. Waiting for her return. I looked at the floor and kicked my feet as I waited patiently.

Soon I heard the soft footsteps of Emilie turning the corner again. This time she held my spellbook tightly in her arms. She kneeled by the side of the bed and handed me the book.

“Here,” she said.

“Thank you,” I replied, “I just don’t like to be separated from it.”

“I understand,” she said and she climbed to her feet and walked to the door.

Emilie arrived at the doorway only to turn and look into my eyes again.

“It can be hard to lose someone you love,” she said softly, “and try not to make too much noise, the demons don’t normally come this close to the wall, but sometimes they like to wander.”

I couldn’t believe what I just heard. My mind raced for a moment before I came to a conclusion. Somehow I must have teleported outside the wall. I looked out the window just beside my bed and saw the massive stone wall just a few miles from this house.

Unlike the previous times I’ve seen the wall, I was looking at the outer curve.I was viewing the other side of the wall.

I looked into the spellbook now in my own hands and mumbled the spell to reorganize the letters. Quickly I flipped through the pages. Stopping on the one labeled, “Combat”.

I’ve seen firsthand how many demons were really in this world, and I knew how deadly they could be. If the situation were to arise I needed to be able to protect myself.

I spent the next few nights reading through the combat spells in secret. Each time mixing the letters before I set it aside. I wanted to be prepared.