The sun had set leaving final vestiges of golden light in the sky.

On a hill overlooking Tenbi waypoint, about twenty minutes steady climb on foot from the main centre, a soothsayer was perched on the edge of his wagon, waving his hands and talking animatedly. In front of him, two dozen of the waypoint’s children were seated on the ground listening intently. The light from a crackling campfire flickered gently over their enthralled faces.

Fynn, a ten-year-old boy of delicate constitution, carefully crept past a small one-person tent and behind the soothsayer’s wagon. From up here on the hill, he could just about make out his home amongst many others and could see lights begin to wink on through the windows below.

A lone horse briefly looked up from where it stood munching on hay. And, clearly judging him no threat, continued to eat unconcernedly.

As he slowly crawled under the wagon, the soothsayer’s gravelly voice became audible and Fynn’s excitement grew. There was plenty of space beneath as it had the typically large wheels that enabled wagons and carts to traverse streams and other rough terrain.

He was now separated from the speaker by just the wooden sideboards that had been swung down on the other side, presumably to allow the soothsayer to use the various props he kept in the wagon as he talked.

The laughs and murmurings of other children were now also easily heard so he settled in with anticipation to listen.

"The war between Arean and the neighbouring kingdom of Solten to the east lasted eight years before the Heavenly Empire stepped in to put an end to the hostilities. Both kingdoms swore allegiance to the Empire and they now make the fifth and sixth colonies respectively."

The soothsayer's voice carried the familiar storytelling tone that held audiences everywhere enthralled "Of the three empires, the Heavenly Empire is the smallest by territory, but due to its considerable resources, it is in no way inferior."

There was a pause before the Soothsayer said in a belligerent tone. "Yes, Anya?"

"Please Han" said an audibly excited and high-pitched voice "We can beat the other empires in war, right?"

Fynn couldn’t help but smile, he knew that voice well. It belonged to his only real friend, a feisty eight year old girl, and the daughter of Tenbi waypoint’s chief clerk who was also the highest authority in the area.

Tenbi waypoint only existed because, as the name suggested, it was squarely located at an intersection that pointed the way to various destinations. It, therefore, became a natural place for merchants, soldiers and other travellers to rest and exchange news.

To the west lay Barydd, a small seaside-fishing town nestled in a cove that also functioned as the northern-most port of the Arean Kingdom.

The road heading slightly northeast of the waypoint led to various small villages and settlements, and beyond that through the Stunted Forest to Valley-Watch, a now purely symbolic garrisoned fort in the Aberisk Ranges overlooking the Rift Valley and lands of the Kingdom of Whalis.

East of Tenbi waypoint, a road led through highland plateaus to the local Lord’s Keep.

And finally, a road southeast found its way eventually to Staunton’s Camp, a gateway settlement to the expanse, a vast open swathe of predominantly wild lands traversed by the indomitable nomadic Derunian people. It was typically intrepid merchants that travelled southeast, in search of the valuable wools and furs that could be traded there.

The waypoint’s meagre source of employment came from the merchants that plied these parts. They used the waypoint as a holding point, requiring labour to split loads between the caravans that travelled in the various directions and guards for the journeys to and fro.

It was Anya’s father that was responsible for overseeing and mediating the various transactions that took place at Tenbi waypoint.

There were laughs from the other children at her question before the gravelly voice of the soothsayer responded.

"That Anya, is a question I hope we never find the answer to because the whole point of having empires is to hopefully prevent petty squabbles similar to those seen between individual kingdoms. A war between any of the empires would upset a very delicate balance and could eventually leave the human race vulnerable to attacks from the Huscan's or the myriad of threats from the wilderness and beyond."

His voice took on an ominous tone. "Would you like to see hordes of trolls, wolves and other beasts rampaging through the land? Do you want to wake up and find your house on fire and the waypoint being pillaged by the merciless and formidable Huscan warriors?"

He chuckled to take the sting from his words "That, I’m afraid, young Anya is likely what would happen if the empires were to go to war."

The children laughed in excitement at his words.

"There’s no such thing as trolls" said an indignant sounding Anya

"Oh? I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself if I were you" replied the soothsayer still chuckling.

The Soothsayer patiently answered questions from the other children, most of which, inevitably, were also along the lines of who would beat who in a fight, which kingdom had the best and strongest armies or which wielder was the most skilled and famous.

One question, in particular, caused Fynn to perk up, even though it came from another voice he recognised but which this time caused him to cringe inwardly and his heart to beat a little faster.

The boy was called Samson, a vicious bully and Fynn’s tormentor in chief. He was also the main reason why Fynn was listening in hiding rather than out there with the others.

"Han" he began using the honorific given to elders and other people of status. "Can anyone become a wielder? I want to fight for the Empire and make my Kingdom proud."

Fynn could almost tangibly feel the pretension in Samson’s voice and he subconsciously clenched his fists till they hurt. The bully was clearly seeking everyone’s admiration. But despite this Fynn badly wanted to hear the answer.

"Well it’s a little off topic," the soothsayer sighed. "but it won’t hurt to talk about it. Besides, we have probably had enough history lessons for the evening."

There was cheering at this, before an expectant silence.

"To become a wielder you require two things as a bare minimum. First, you need to have the talent and second, you need to have the right guidance and training to ensure that you don’t harm yourself. Once triggered in a person, the energy, chi, will, with the correct guidance, begin to flow through the body where it can be controlled and utilized. Any mistakes in this process can cause lasting damage or even death."

"So how do I know if I have the talent?" interrupted an impatient sounding Samson.

"Well, that is exactly the challenge," replied the soothsayer unperturbed. "For nobles, it’s relatively straight forward, because as a matter of course pathfinders test them by the age of six after which they immediately begin intensive guidance and training while receiving immense resources and secret family techniques to aid their growth. Any noble-born child that doesn’t have the talent usually ends up hidden, disowned or banished and it is highly probable that some end up quietly disposed of, however, fortunately, this is extremely rare because for centuries past they have religiously cultivated the talent through very selective breeding. Therefore as I mentioned before, having the talent is merely a prerequisite of becoming a wielder. At the appropriate age, noble born children with the talent typically attend prestigious academies where their skills are honed further in an extremely challenging and competitive environment. And even then, following graduation from the academies, only the very few that show extremely rare levels of talent and demonstrated the right qualities and determination can continue to take the path of a wielder."

The children gasped in wonder at this but the soothsayer continued nonplussed.

"On the other hand, for wealthy merchants and other non-noble families, it is significantly more difficult. They need to pay a small fortune to independent pathfinders that agree to test their children at a similarly young age, no more than ten to twelve years of age. Should the test return positive, they undergo the process to ignite their chi. Now although rare, this does happen and it usually leads to huge interest from their respective kingdom’s noble families. In many cases, in return for training and guidance, they swear their service and loyalty to the noble family with the best offer. After all, the more members the noble family has with the talent, the more powerful it becomes. Joining a noble family also enables the child to attend the academies where they also have the chance, provided they have the qualities I mentioned, to take the path of wielder. It is usually far more difficult for a non-noble to achieve this despite the backing of a noble family."

Samson tried to interrupt once more "So how.."

This time however the soothsayer predicted the question

"So!" he assertively cut Samson off. "To answer your question young man, in order to find out if you have the talent, you would also need to be tested by a pathfinder and unfortunately, as I already said, this does not come cheap."

He thought for a moment "Mm, let's see, to put it into perspective for you, one testing would probably cost more than the worth of all the property here in Tenbi waypoint."

There was a collective groan at this and Fynn felt his heart sink.

"However, if you do somehow manage to afford it, survive the testing and against the significant odds are shown to have the talent, then you would have no trouble finding a noble family to sponsor you and help you grow and develop your skills. Your fortunes would most certainly change, but in return, you would be indebted to the family. In the best-case scenario, you could see yourself eventually married into one of them and learn their most secret methods and techniques."

The children let out excited murmurs at this.

"Why is it so expensive to get tested by the pathfinders?" whined one boy, "I bet I have the talent but there is no way any of us could afford it."

This caused the other children to lose their earlier excitement and they immediately quietened down.

While the boy’s claim to have the talent was debatable, his second point wasn’t. The inhabitants of Tenbi waypoint truly were the dregs of society. Most lived on the edge of poverty, subsisting, hand to mouth, on their meager weekly salaries.

"Indeed," chuckled the soothsayer ruefully. "And this is why it does you all no good to dwell on the topic for too long. However, I think it will help put it out of your minds if I make things clearer for you. The reason testing is so expensive is simply because it is an extremely difficult and exhausting process, which, if done incorrectly, can lead to significant physical and mental damage, not only to the child but to the pathfinder as well. This is known as a backlash. Pathfinders are some of the most talented and accomplished wielders in the Empire. Think of them as the medicine men and women of those with the talent. I won’t go into too much detail, but the process of testing requires them to manipulate their own chi to probe the child’s meridian channels looking for suitable paths for the energy to flow and rotate smoothly. If this is found, then they can be considered to have passed the test. The difficulty of the testing and the likelihood of a backlash obviously increases if the child isn’t talented. Therefore, it makes sense to only test people that are, by virtue of their family history, statistically more likely to have the talent."

A crackling sound reached Fynn’s ears as the soothsayer added more wood to the fire.

"Alternatively," he continued. "The pathfinder can carry out the testing using active crystals that already hold chi. This, while not completely without risk, is much less dangerous for both parties, however, the cost of the active crystals puts this method out of reach to all but the wealthiest of merchants."

Fynn listened enraptured. Despite the disappointing realisation that this was something completely out of his reach, it was the most detail he had ever heard on the topic.

The soothsayer continued emphatically, "As if that isn’t enough! Once the talent is confirmed in a child, they then need to undergo the irreversible process I mentioned earlier, triggering their chi. Again, this can only be done by the pathfinder using their own energy as the ignition. Another very difficult and delicate task that if done incorrectly can cause a lifetimes worth of health problems."

He took a breath before he said with finality. "I am sure you can all now agree that a pathfinder’s role in all this is both crucial and extremely difficult and therefore more than justifies the fees."

The children’s silence clearly acknowledged this but also held the tangible disappointment of many crushed dreams. The soothsayer let them soak in what they had heard before saying in a kind voice.

"I am not telling you this to be cruel, but because my role as a soothsayer is more than just to entertain you and brew medicinal potions. It is also to arm you with knowledge. I absorb information, read the patterns of history and make sense of current events. Using this accumulated knowledge and my intuition, I give advice that can hopefully improve peoples lives and guide them into making better decisions. The wisest kings know that knowledge and up to date information are the most important things to have, and so it is true for all of us."

He paused thoughtfully before saying. "For example, if I were to tell Tenbi waypoint’s chief clerk that the last town I went through showed signs of plague, then he could immediately take actions to ensure that it does not spread this far. Or if I told a grocery storekeeper that foxes killed the majority of the nearest village’s chickens, then they could predict that the price of eggs will go up and adjust their prices accordingly. What about if I told a farmer that the last time the winds blew the red sands of the Ghabi desert this far north, the rainy season started a month late, what do you think he could do about it?"

"Delay his planting?" a quiet voice Fynn didn’t recognise asked tentatively.

"Exactly," the soothsayer continued. "I think you all get the picture. So similarly, you can use the stories you hear from me to make better decisions on your future. In this case, knowing what is worth pursuing and what isn’t. Instead of focusing your energy on unrealistic goals, you can direct it to something that can actually be achieved. The known world is vast and opportunities are endless, there is something out there for those with the right knowledge and determination"

There was silence as the children absorbed the soothsayer’s words.

Samson however, clearly hadn’t quite given up on his dream of becoming a wielder because he blurted out in his nasally voice. "But I want to fight for the Empire."

"I didn’t say you can't," the soothsayer replied smoothly, his voice held a hint of a smile. "How old are you boy? You look around twelve, is that right?"

"Eleven, nearly twelve." Samson replied.

"Well, then you are already around the right age to apprentice in the Arean navy. You could work your way up from a ship-boy in service to the Kingdom and the Heavenly Empire, and who knows maybe one day be the captain of your own ship. Or alternatively, in just three years you will be eligible to apply to join the local lord’s army. With hard work, you could work your way up the ranks that way."

He paused as if for emphasis. "Being a wielder is not the only way you can fight for the Empire. There are countless other ways to do that and I’m happy to discuss those further with each of you personally should you wish."

Other children began asking for advice and the soothsayer with seemingly inexhaustible patience answered them all. Fynn began to feel sleepy.

"Ah," the soothsayer suddenly exclaimed. "It looks like Anya has finally got tired of hearing me speak and has fallen asleep. And I also see many of you yawning, so I think it’s perhaps time we called it a night. I don’t want your parents wondering if I have kidnapped you all."

The children laughed and protested half-heartedly. It was clear though, that many were indeed getting sleepy. Fynn heard them begin to get up and thank the soothsayer as they left, walking in groups or pairs as they discussed the evening's stories on their way out of the field and back down the hill towards their respective homes.

"Thanks Han," said a sleepy-sounding Anya. "Can I come again tomorrow for more stories?"

The response was lost to Fynn as he quietly exited his hiding spot and sneaked back around the horse.

Deep in thought, he slowly made his way from the soothsayer's camp, absentmindedly kicking a stone along that he could only just make out in the moonlight. He was in no hurry to get home.

After all, he thought sourly to himself, there was no warm welcome waiting for him there, no smiles or hugs that he knew most of the other kids would receive. Instead, what he could expect was cold silent indifference, no acknowledgment that he even existed.

At this time, on a typical night at Fynn’s home, his father would undoubtedly be sat at his place by the fire, staring into it with a vacant expression. While his mother would, in her usual passive-aggressive manner, be making the same potato and carrot stew they had for dinner every night. After which, she would slam a bowl in front of her husband and retire to the bedroom, the only other room of the house, to eat alone.

She never bothered serving Fynn, who always tried to be as inconspicuous as possible whenever she was around. Only when she had left the room would he feel brave enough to go help himself to whatever was left in the pot.

Later on, she would leave for work, slamming the door on her way out for good measure. This would usually startle his father awake, at which point Fynn would gently remind him that he needed to go to bed. If he didn’t, his father would never think to do so on his own and would spend the night slouched where he sat.

Fynn often used to wonder what job his mother did that meant she would leave the house that late, but he was now at an age where he could put things together. Particularly after hearing certain cruel taunts from the other children.

Recently, he had simply chosen to stay out of the house until late, when he knew she was no longer there. The tension in the house otherwise had become simply unbearable and despite her never having said so, it seemed that the barely concealed anger was somehow entirely aimed at him.

Sometimes he felt it would be better to have parents like Samson’s, whose father constantly raged at him and took every opportunity to beat and abuse him. Even that was surely better than being treated like you mean nothing at all. He shuddered, okay maybe not, he had seen the beatings that Samson received and not a day went by when the boy wasn’t limping or nursing one injury or another. It was clear why he was so bitter and eager to pass the pain forward.

He was so lost in his thoughts and intent on kicking the little stone along that he failed to pay proper attention to his surroundings.

"Thought you wouldn’t be far you little weasel" a delighted voice drawled.

Fynn’s heart skipped a beat. Think about the devil and there he was. Samson stood blocking the path ahead wearing a familiar smirk.

A quick glance around revealed that he, thankfully, appeared to be alone. Fynn didn’t need to think twice, he swiftly turned and began sprinting back down the way he had come. Everyone knew he was the fasted kid in Tenbi and he intended to show Samson a clean pair of heels.

Unfortunately for him, Samson hadn’t been quite as unprepared as he appeared and before he had taken more than a few steps he felt a meaty thwack and found himself sprawled flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

A hidden assailant had ambushed Fynn from the dark and was now seated squarely on his chest while pinning his arms to the ground. Fynn could barely breathe for the weight on him. Peering up as he wheezed painfully, he saw that it was Jak, a close friend of Samson.

He realised with a sinking feeling that he was in serious trouble.

Jak was around twelve, the same age as Samson, but due to his enormous size and strength, he was already helping the adult men carry loads between the merchant carts at Tenbi waypoints main exchange. However, what made the boy so scary to Fynn was that he didn’t appear to have an ounce of mercy or a moral compass. Even now as he sat peering down at Fynn, his expression only seemed to display mild curiosity at Fynn’s difficulty to breath.

"You can’t get air?" He asked in a dull voice.

As Jak asked this, he casually adjusted his body so that even more of his weight was pressed on the smaller boy’s chest. Fynn’s gasping wheezing breaths became louder.

Several times in the past it had actually been Samson who prevented Jak from going overboard with the beatings, perhaps due to a fear that his father would somehow find out. This time, however, Samson made no move to help and instead laughed as he approached the pinned boy.

"Thought you could run away you little runt?" He aimed a kick that connected sickeningly with the side of Fynn’s head. "Fucking moron. We are gonna kill you today." With that he circled, all the while kicking violently at Fynn’s exposed body.

Fynn continued to wriggle and struggle in vain for breath, he was small for his age and all it did was make him weaker. He felt himself get dizzy but the pain of the kicking kept jerking him back to his predicament. Slowly, however, his vision faded and eventually so did the pain.

He awoke to find his head bouncing and scraping painfully across the ground. It all suddenly came back to him and he realised that Samson and Jak weren’t quite done with him yet. They had a leg each that they pulled as they marched along. Fynn tried to position his hands to protect his head.

"Oh good, he’s awake," Fynn heard Samson say. "I think we are far enough from the houses that no one will hear us."

They dropped his feet and Samson’s grinning face appeared above him.

"Had a nice nap?" He taunted.

Fynn began to sob helplessly. "Please let me go," he cried weakly. "I didn’t do anything to.."

He was cut short when Samson meaty fist went straight into his nose with a thud.

"Shut the fuck up you little wimp," Samson bellowed. "I already told you we are going to fucking kill you. Nobody cares about you, not your mental case dad, not your whore of a mother. And no one will miss you when you are gone, not even Anya, your so-called friend."

Each of those points was punctuated with an additional punch.

The next few hours, or what felt like it to Fynn, were like nothing he had ever experienced before. It seemed that the two boys had been planning this for a while because they began to methodically inflict as much damage on his small body as they possibly could, all while ensuring he didn’t pass out.

Fynn screamed until he lost his voice and all that came out was a rasping noise. He gagged and continuously threw up blood and what little was left in his stomach, but they continued relentlessly.

Eventually, he could no longer see and the last thing he remembered, before unconsciousness mercifully took him, was his arm being painfully bent at an impossible angle, and a sharp crack.