Ever since memory started to serve me, I found myself stuck in the same place.

The many days spent starving on the side of the road brought me both contempt and perspective.

There was something wrong with this world.

The rays of the sun started sneaking through the narrow cracks, it's starting again.

I observed the masses rise from their slumber, as they shuffled onto the cramped streets. Like a moth to a flame, they too sought to reach the mesmerizing light.

Alas, the fickle rays proved aloof and out of reach, and their pursuit was folly. Frustrated but still enamored they settled for lesser things. And tried to replicate the golden gleam.

And so onward they went, from dusk till dawn, toiling the fields and plying their trades. Some peddled exotic wares, while others hunted ferocious beasts.

Their hard work was evident in the sweat that streamed across their foreheads. But in their blind chase, they didn't even bother to wipe it off, and their heads shined yellow with sunlight.

All that effort, just to earn a few shiny pieces that cling.

The hours of the day passed, and the grip that the sun had over them started to wane. The diarch of heaven had started his descent into the horizon, off to bring its woe west.

With the curse now undone, the same thing they so desperately sought started to matter little to them.

They discarded their tools of trade to a man and went off to squander it all on liquor and women.

Their wages, no matter how meager and hard to earn, would vanish in minutes, wasted on momentary pleasure.

And when the empty bottles stack high on the round wooden table, they all start singing the same tune.

"I'm not working another day in my life!"

But I knew for certain that they would.

The sun will rise again come morning, and they will be hypnotized by it once more...

"Ugh... my head is killing me."

Their loud drunken racket caused me to mutter under my breath, couldn't she have rented somewhere secluded?

The half-closed window to my right was to blame, and I glanced at it with disdain for it was out of my reach.

I was unable to do anything about it for now, so I went back to examining the book.

I still despised snow, even though it saved me at times from thirst. I hated the chill that penetrated my bones and the sting that it caused in my fingers. And above all, I hated how happy everyone seemed when I snuck upwards.

Yet when I looked at the pristine thick paper that filled my new table, and how it shone in the dim light. It trumped my disdain for times now past.

Even through my untrained eyes, the value of the gleaming parchments was evident.

I took care not to tug too hard on the shoddy seam again, for the will that held it together was gradually vanishing. I turned the page to the latest entry and brought the candle closer to better see the words.

[ 12th of Scythe's peak.

The rays of sun crept in through the creaks, coupled with a choir of birds that let out a merry song welcoming the new day.

Still lying beneath my cotton blanket, I thought I could finally enjoy a long sleep after months of grueling training.

But it was not to be, and before I had the chance to enjoy nature's tune an an unwelcome guest burst into my room.

It was Zelea, my youngest sister, rushing in through the door like water from a dam.

I glared at Miria (our maid) thinking she forgot what I asked of her, and she averted her gaze while holding back a laugh. She was in on it, the traitor!

My head sunk deeper into the pillows when her rampaging knocked down one of my prized possessions. A hand-crafted marble figurine of The Velvet Prince. His famous sullen head was now flung across the room.

I'll never understand how she gets this much energy so early in the morning.

Another piece shattered, the small replica of the Fergana I got from my presence of mind tutor.

But it was when she grabbed my figurine of the winged general that I burst from my bed in anger. Zelea panicked at my approach and the piece fell from her hand as she ran away to hide behind Miria.

I never concentrated on anything before as much as I did on casting that water bubble.

I had to conjure it up exactly around the figurine that was flying in the air. Then I had to focus on keeping it from bursting in.

Not even the time when I dueled my father or passed the entrance exam to Caehdel compared to the amount of stress of those moments.

When the bubble was stable in the air I brought it back to my palm. I admit I was a bit fed up when I glared over at Zelea and shouted "What do you want?" as I clenched my fist in anger.

I thought if I acted angry she would leave and hoped that she would stop her nasty habit in the future.

Alas, she came prepared, that little...

No! Remember Yarina, you promised to stop swearing!

Ugh! This heavy-breathing relaxation scroll was a sham, what a waste of money!

All it does is make me anxious and it makes breathing such a chore.

Anyway, back to my (lovely) little sister. Who once satisfied with the mess she made pulled out a sealed letter bearing our family's sigil.

"In order to celebrate your indu - induc"

"Induction my lady" Maria had to step in to correct her stutter.

"Ahem, indeed. Your induction into the Caehdeli Dome. We will be hosting a gathering of your peers in the region within a month's time. Once you confer about the details of the party with Maria, report back to me. Signed by your father, and mine, Zaktel Krosmaa."

That's it? All this ruckus for an invitation to a tea party? Ugh! If only I could conjure up a small cloud to follow her around or throw some muddy sand on her white shoes...

But I couldn't, even if it was a casual one it was still a decree from my father.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

She was well protected, even from some, admittedly petty, pranks.

After all, the first rule of diplomacy is: Don't harm the messenger."

I'm sure that includes pellets of mud, what a pity...]

The flickering candlelight made me strain my eyes to read that last part so I decided to put the book away.

After reading that, the shred of guilt that lingered in my chest started to lessen.

It became less puzzling now that the previous owner of this house met that tragic fate.

This land is unbound by such rules. The district of Vagren she had unwittingly strolled into has as much diplomacy as a rabid dog's bite.

I don't know what a figurine is, but if she thought that it breaking was the worst thing that could happen. Then I wondered what she thought as the strays were nibbling on her intestines.

I rocked back in my chair with my feet dangling in the air and let out a sigh, what a day it was.

I stared down at my bruised hands and the blood of many that covered them.

It would be a lie to say that my previous deeds weighed less on my mind as the hours passed.

My eyes raced across the room, and in the dark, I started to familiarize myself with its layout.

The table was in the center, a few empty bowls sat on top. Next to it was a small piece of wood, it looked like a cube and stood beside the bed near the wall. On top of the cube was an unlit candle and another bowl. And finally, there was the fireplace, its flame was unkindled and a fire iron sat beside it.

This was it, what I dreamed of all my life, what I chose at that moment.

In that brief lull, the grip I held over my mind loosened for but a moment. But that's all it took for the events of the strenuous day to come crashing down on me. I squeezed my eyes as the visions streamed to my mind, and I remembered the state of her when she breathed her last.

Everything started at noon, the gnawing hunger numbed my mind and my vision was all but blank when I stumbled across the ambush.

Even after reading her book, I was still unsure what she was doing here. But whether it be rotten luck or a venomous curiosity, it led her here all the same. And hiring a local guide to help her navigate through the slums wasn't the only mistake she made that day.

The trap was already sprung, even before her tongue deepened the hole that her feet dug up. Trying to intimidate them, she carelessly announced that she was a renewal willer.

I didn't know much, but I knew people weren't created equally in this world.

Those who can manifest their thoughts into reality were a rare enough breed. And anomalies such as renewal mages and others were even rarer.

At the time, I thought she was going to get away scot-free. Willers were not to be trifled with.

A rule so famous that an ignorant child knew it. So iron-clad that it still held, even in this hellish place devoid of law.

I didn't recognize any of the people who were holding her up. And a bunch of no-name vagrants wouldn't dare to mess with a willer.

But everything changed when he happened upon the scene. His long brown hair extended across a bare back full of colorful ink. He walked like a feather, even while inside the red-haired harlot that wrapped her legs around him.

It was Cromel the phantom blade, one of the four gerents that carved up the Vagren district. At first, he had no interest in the affair, simply walking past the now-cleared street.

But the riffraff who hugged to the wall to let him pass changed that with one phrase when their leader yelled out.

" Don't get too cocky just because you're a willer!"

When he stopped, I felt my heart drop. He had with him half a dozen men who quickly circled the young willer.

"You, come here!" Cromel said to the men who had just spoken. He pointed him out even though he had his back turned the whole time.

The leader of the three unnamed scum was a man in his forties. Skinny like all other vagrants and with more mud in his head than hair. Even his teeth gave up on him, and what little remained were as dark as coal.

"Yes, boss! I want to stay that I—no we always admired you, yes, and always looked up to you, yes, and always wanted to join your gang!"

Cromel had an annoyed gaze, he turned to the second one on his left and said

"You, come here."

"Huh? What do you need him f—" The man didn't even finish his sentence before he collapsed to the ground. Even though my eyes never blinked, it was only then that I saw the dagger that was plunged into his heart.

I swear Cromel's arms didn't move. It was as if the blade moved on its own.

The second man stepped forward as well, and with a frightened tone he said "Ye—s boss!"

"Is what he said true?" He said while pointing at the dead man who bled into the ground.

"She says she's a renewal willer, whatever the spit that is!"

"Hmm"

"You need anything else, boss?"

"You've done enough as is."

"Please don't—"

The third one sprung forward, as soon as the second one dropped dead. He brandished a dull knife and started cutting the two men's scalps.

He then opened a sack he had at his waist, and a loud buzz followed as a swarm of flies burst out from inside it. From it, he pulled out two pieces of human scalp and shook away the worms that crawled all over them.

The smell of rotten flesh filled my mouth with warm saliva. The only thing that stopped me from vomiting was how empty my insides were.

"I've only got one scalp missing before I could join. " He said with a maniacal laugh as he presented the four to Cromel.

"It's the rule you made, You wouldn't renege on your word right?"

"No, you've got enough."

"Huh? how—" he stopped mid-sentence and extended his arm to catch the blood that dripped down. That's when he saw something familiar in Cromel's arm, it was his own scalp offered to him.

"Now you have five, welcome aboard " Cromel replied in a cheeky tone as he wiped his hand down with a white tissue and swatted a fly.

He touched the top of his cut-open head and felt the insides of his brain before collapsing on top of his friends.

Cromel finished with the harlot that was still wrapped around him and tossed her aside. He zipped his pants and then dashed forward to the young willer. His gait was light and graceful and a wide grin decorated his face.

"Soooo... You are a renewal willer" He asked, skipping back and forth like a toddler.

"Tha—" her voice faltered, causing her to clear her throat before continuing "That's right! So stay out of my way!" the pitch of her voice was still high despite the clear effort.

"Hmmm" he said as he scanned her from head to toe "You are younger than I thought"

"Ca—careful! She said she was some student but you never know with them freaks" The guide yelled out loud.

"I'm the one who led the whining bitch here! I can't believe she was a willer. I deserve some sort of prize right?".

What was that idiot thinking? Weren't the three bodies that piled in front of his eyes enough warning?

Cromel didn't even shift his gaze from her, but the guide soon collapsed to the ground. I shook my head in astonishment, his death was predictable and easily avoidable. If only he kept his mouth shut, but greed got the better of him.

"Now, where were we?" His eyes remained locked with hers as the smile persisted on his face.

From where I was hiding, I failed to see what expression she had at the sight of the stream of blood that ran beneath her.

The intolerable groaning ended, giving way to a silence that persisted for a few moments.

The dagger flew back into Cromel's hand again, so fast that the mystery of the skill was never revealed.

"So what exactly is a renewa—"

"I won't be mad because they were very bad people. But how did you do that thing with your daggers?"

Cromel gritted his teeth so hard. And the squeaky noise as he ground them together caused my stomach to churn.

"It's rude to speak out of turn." He said while forcing the grin to stay on his face.

"Huh? Why is that?"

"Why? You ask..." he replied as he inched forward to the woman he cast aside earlier.

He pulled her by grabbing a handful of her bare chest. He then embraced her in a kiss so long that her foot started twitching.

"What do you think separates the weak from the strong?" Cromel said in a calm tone. He showed no sign of fatigue while his partner gasped for air.

"The answer is: permission."

"Without the consent of the strong, the weak can't even draw breath."

Cromel then slid his hands upwards, squeezing the neck of his partner while a bulge formed in his pants.

Still out of breath, her face reddened and her limbs trembled as she scratched his chest with her nails.