12 of them trudged for weeks through thickets and brush to reach the village of Praguor. The ground was uneven and rough, but it was necessary. Following the roads was dangerous, and from what they were wearing, they would be pinned as miscreants in a heartbeat.

‘How long now Aren?’

‘At least another day, but miss can’t we take off these smoldering robes?’

The group was shrouded in ominous gear, garments fit for a rogue.

‘What I have told you Aren, these are to protect us from spies. It’s of utmost importance that we hide our activity here in Lord Saran’s land.’

‘I understand that miss, but marching us for days without rest in these dark shrouds is bound to make the men tired.’

Aren was speaking out of his own interests of course; being the oldest soul there, Aren was well in his 60s and feared he may finally pass away during this arduous journey.

Aren’s hair was black, and fringed with sliver on his sides. His beard was sporadic as it sprawled in every direction. The oil from weeks without bathing had built up along his brow, and sweat dripped passed his steel eyes and over his bulbous nose.

‘Shh, quiet.’

The woman leading the troupe shushed her subordinates.

‘I hear something up ahead.’

Before them was a clearing with a camp, and inside was resting marauders. Their clothes and undergarments were on strings to dry, and their weapons were laid aside; close and insight incase there was an emergency.

The evening sun had forced them to take cover under a makeshift canopy, and to their side was the naked corpse of some poor girl who couldn’t be more than 9.

Brigands like this take what they can from travelers on the road, and are usually exiles or deserters.

‘How vile...’

Aren spoke with disgust, be he already knew exactly what would become of the brigands as soon as he saw the girl’s body.

Incesivit Sanguine

At the last utterance of the words, a pinkish red flame manifested into a rose and shot out from the woman leading the band. The pedals kissed the marauders, and arches from the flames licked the flesh off their bones as the heat disintegrated everything it reached.

The camp was annihilated in an instance.

When I awoke, I was in an empty field. The rats seemed confused as I arose from the ground, but their confusion couldn’t begin to match my own.

‘Where am I?’

The once desolate battlefield that had haunted my night turned into a vacant lot. Hoof and foot prints had destroyed the earth beneath, and yet nothing was left. The mass grave I had passed out in was somehow erased.

*Sftt*

‘Argh!’

The rats, without their buffet, had swarmed my body looking for a quick breakfast. Raising myself up, my first instinct was to flee.

I felt natural when running through the forest, and my direction was strangely apparent the minute I crossed into the wooded territory. I felt more in tune than ever, like an actual animal living on instinct and ability.

At first, I was limping from my wild night, then running, and then sprinting. The breeze in my hair wrapped around me, and pushed me from behind. I was gaining more speed, and I felt fantastic. All the inhabitation, all the frustration left me in each breath I took.

The forest was bliss, and I felt it.

‘Oh, that burly man? Ye he left, what was maybe two days ago.’

How disheartening. I was passed out for days apparently; I don’t feel hungry or thirsty, nor am I weak in the legs. To top it all off, the oafish peddler, my master, ran off to the next village without me.

‘Did he leave anything, like a message or money?’

‘Hmm… no I don’t reckon he did.’

This was turning more and more unfortunate at each passing moment. I’m flat out broke, and in a foreign land I arrived in with master a few days ago.

‘You might try the inn if you’re looking for work hon.’

She has point, inn work would be a good way to leave this town and find familiar surroundings. With no home to go to, I wonder where familiar surroundings would be…

Inside the inn is a calming scene; warriors and adventures drink merrily, and a notice board stapled with requests and bounties is a popular attraction for these hardy men. In the corner of the room however, was a booth of hooded reprobates.

They looked intense and vicious, especially the slender one that was eyeing me up and down.

‘You gonna order something or just stand there?’

‘Oh uh, get me a shot’

Liquor is cheap, and happens to be the only thing I can afford at the moment. I stroll over to the board to see what odd jobs I can do.

Wanted Dead or Alive: Azial the Mad-Elf - $100,000

Water Magician Needed: Sewage Repair and Extension - $2,000

Kitchen Hand Needed: Dish Washing and Mending - $3

It’s depressing being so useless; about the only thing I could do on the board is worth 1-3 bucks at best. If I pull myself together and take on a few of these, I should have enough to buy a room for the night.

‘Why are you so intent on that boy miss?’

Aren had been enjoying a large spread of pork; salted ham slathered in honey, and swished with gravy was spooning a side of greens. At his side was a pint of gin which Aren greedily gulped down as he stuffed his face with meat.

‘Can’t you see it; his aura is brimming.’

Aren was a well-trained wizard, and had been a court wizard in the past. His eyes could see past masterful illusions, and into the hearts of apprentices he deemed worthy. One thing he could not pride himself in however, was reading a person.

‘Aura? Isn’t he a little young for you miss?’

*Snicker*

‘Shut your ugly mugs!’

The miss is such a stern specimen; Aren takes joy in flustering her whenever he can, even if she terrifies him.

‘Daniel.’

‘Yes miss?’

‘Tell that boy we might have job for him, and tell him to meet me in room 6.’

Aren watches as Daniel makes his way to the boy, and a bad feeling settles in his stomach.

‘Oi kid.’

Talking to me was a rather large man, or at least I think it’s a man. He’s covered in head to toe hiding any defining feature.

His robes are brownish gray, and I can see thin leather padding that covers his joints.

‘Kid, we got a job for you. If you’re interested, come up to room 6.’

I’ve seen the underworld in action before, but I never fathomed that they could have use of someone such as myself. Maybe they need a patsy to take the blame for a murder, or perhaps they want a distraction for a robbery; whatever the case, I need the money.

Hunger outweighs morals.

Creaking up the decrepit stairs, I made a mental road map on what I was willing to do and how to escape if I was unwilling.

*Knock* *Knock*

The door opened and I was greeted by two guards dressed in the same shrouded garments as the man downstairs.

‘Take a seat right there.’

The voice belonged to a female, and as she spoke the two guards exited the room and closed the door on their way out.

‘Go on then, don’t be nervous.’

I was apprehensive, but I eventually took a seat at a small table to the side. She sat on the corner of the master bed, and faced me to take off her cowl.

Her hair was in locks that fell to her shoulders, and was a golden brown. Her face was centered but small, and deep blue eyes were in a perpetual scowl like she was always divining whatever she was looking at. She looked maybe... 19? 20?

‘Where do you come from Mr…’

When she spoke her voice was soft, but it was not frail. She sounded strong and she acted as such.

‘Faust, Basra Faust.’

‘Basra eh.’

She looked at me straight in the eye, and peered deep inside.

‘I can see you Basra. The real you.’

What the hell does that mean?!

‘I can the aura trying to escape you. It’s filling your vessel, and it’s about to leak.’

‘Uh listen lady-‘

‘Sophie.’

‘Listen Sophie, I don’t know who you are or why you think-‘

As I began to speak, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder blade. Behind me was the man from before, and he had just pierced my side with a blade.

‘It won’t resonate with you; you are not enough. What happens now is for the good of everyone.’

Pulling the blade out I quickly turn to see a yellow liquid secreting from the blade. And as soon as I do, I feel oddly faint.

‘Why are you…’

The boy fell face first, and slumped over his knees to faceplant the floor.

‘Tell Aren to prepare an extraction, this boy has it in him.’

‘Yes miss.’

Lowering herself, Sophie inspects the boy. He looks peaceful in death, and a tinge of guilt pricks her.

Knowing what is right, and doing what is right are two very different things; unfortunately for her, she is sworn to do what “right” she can.

It’s all for the sake of balance because soon, the bodies she plans to pile will condemn her soul to oblivion.

Chapter 2 End