Tay glared and bit his lip as he watched his adventuring team walk away, almost all of the items and hulvs they had gotten were in their prosession as they counted their profits. He looked down at himself, seeing that his armor was torn and filthy. He closed his eyes and took a long calming breath. When he opened them again, his three teammates were gone. Tay suspected that most of their earnings would go to Frankly Wester's shocking drinking habit.

They had just finished their second full day's trek up the tower. It had gone slightly better than before. Frankly hadn’t been such a fool as to take them high enough to find level 3s this time. Tay was really hoping that this wasn’t what his foreseeable future looked like. He wandered over to the Association hall, not really trying to get there quickly. He needed time to himself.

Kimber Franks hadn't contacted him since their parting the day before. He didn’t expect his request to be easy, but he also couldn’t wait anymore. He couldn’t wait for Henry Carval to do it for him.

He hadn't seen Alexander and the rest of the Phantoms since he parted with them 5 days before. He wondered what they thought of him now. Did they think he was taken? Or maybe they thought he had left… He just didn’t have time to find them and tell them what happened. But what would he tell them? Would they think him selfish? They were willing to offer him a place with them. Amongst a team such as that, was getting revenge really worth losing that?

Yes. He thought bitterly. It was worth it. It was worth everything he could possibly give up. That bastard took his life from him. He could have grown up to be just like everyone else. Perhaps he would still be an adventurer? And maybe he would have still met the Phantoms…Though he knew that would have been unlikely. Of the things he remembers of his parents, their distaste for the Baron was very memorable.

Then there was Orby. His Spirit familiar had been rather quiet since their encounter with the dwarf. Since he had spoken with Kimber. He wondered about that. Did the Spirit know something, perhaps? Could he have somehow gleaned—No. He didn’t think his familiar would do that.

He groaned as he stepped up the few stairs that led to the huge building. HIs leg hurt so much.

He headed to one of the many clothing stores that were littered about the Association hall. Many, if not all would sell leather armor as well.

He glanced at ‘Silivias’s Silky Wares,’ but quickly shook his head and started to walk away. Then he stopped again. He looked down at himself, seeing that his poor state hadn't improved. He looked up, seeing the fanciful interior of the store.

Perhaps a little splurge wouldn’t hurt…

“Thank you for your patriange!” Said Silvia Mertly as she waved at Tay. He groaned at himself, jerking the bag containing all of his clothes to his face. “Never again. He was wearing a very nice dark green v-neck shirt and a pair of comfortable and utilitarian—as Silvia Mertly so graciously pointed out—black pants. The quilty of the products he had bought were fantastic, but the price was criminal. So why had he bought them?

Unable to find a reason, he shrugged and went to buy himself something to eat. Perhaps not the greatest of ideas as he had just spent a considerable amount of his money, but at that point he was finding it hard to care.

He found himself an open seat in ‘Kevins Cakes’ and indulged in some light culinaries. Lucky they had a selection of harderier options—however few there were—so he hopefully wouldn’t have any uncomfortable cramps that night. He was almost enjoying himself when from behind him, he heard a familiar voice.

“Tay!” He winced. He just wanted to eat.

Turning, he found the face of Alexander Bouma. “Where’ve you been?” He asked as he took the seat beside him. Tay took another bite of a super-covered roll as he shrugged weakly. “And what is this?” He asked as he pointed to Tay’s shoulder. There, stitched into his clothes by Silvia at Tay’s request, was the symbol of the Red Cross guild.

“Hah…long story.” Tay said simply. “Right…and I suddenly find myself with a lot of free time.” Alexander pressed. “Please, it’s complicated.” He pleaded.

A sudden surge of annoyance flashed on the adventurer's face. “I imagine it is, Tay. But I think you owe me and the others at least A basic explanation.” Tay looked into The eyes of the man who, until only a few days ago, had been his friend. He saw something there he didn't want to admit to having seen.

Tay sighed and finished his food, pushing the plate to an employee who walked out of site with it.

He sat there quietly for a while, remembering what Henry Carval and Lithra Rose had told him just those few days ago. His heart ached as his memory flashed with images of raging red and raising black. The smells of smoke and the heat against his skin…And then he made up his mind. to remember that day once again.

“Breath, Tay. You must remember to breathe.” Said the voice of Tay’s father, Farson Mallor. Tay’s armed strained as he held back the string of his bow, the arrow knocked on it was shaking ever so slightly. He was sitting on a large branch of a brounk tree just off of a little-used part of the Finick beach. His father was holding himself steady just behind him, using the tree’s trunk as footing.

Far off in the distance, Tay could see the distorted outline of the target he was aiming at. He could see it just above the tip of the arrow, but he berated himself whenever it would disappear as his weapon swayed back and forth

“In.” Farson said, resting a gentle hand on Tay’s shoulder. Tay breathed a slow breath, letting his lungs expand and his arms stiffen. “Out.” He exhaled, feeling as if all the weight and strain on his arms had simply vanished. “Release!” The bowstring quivered as the arrow hummed through the air, flowing to its target. Tay watched on, he tried to stay focused on the arrow, but he lost it against the sky and bright sand.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He looked frantically for it, shielding his eyes with his hand. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a soft Thump. He squinted and saw, dead center in the black target, the white fletching of his shot.

A relieved whoop escaped from him and he turned to see the smiling face of his father. He said nothing, but the slight nod from the man was enough. He began climbing down the tree and Tay followed. Months of practice allowed him to descend without a signal misstep. It had almost become second nature to him.

It took several minutes to get to the target, but once they did, Tay’s grin only grew wider. The arrow had struck the target exactly where he had intended, and it had gone deep, unlike the two dozen other shots he had made. The only part of it still visible on the front side of the target was the feathers. He had to use all his strength to remove the arrow, and once he did, he found the tip had been bent slightly. He would have to repair it later.

“Good.” Farson said simply. That simple complement was like a hundred words all mashed into one for Tay. The big man swung the heavy slab of fabric over his shoulder, walking easily with it. Farson shared some traits with Tay, such as his bright blond hair, although his was three times as long and was tied in a ponytail, unlike Tay’s own scruffy, unkept flush—Much to his mothers annoyance.

His father bought him a nice late morning breakfast that day. It had three eggs, five pieces of bacon, two loughs of bread, and an assortment of greens which Tay mostly ignored.

Later, at around 1 PM, they found their way back to their home.

It was a rather small place, but it had a cozy feeling to it. All around it plants grew in ornate pots and hangers. Beds of flowers were built just below the porch. Inside was no different. Plants hung, sat and layed by window frames, counters and tables, and on the fireplace.

Tay ran to where he knew his mother, Evelyn Mallor, was. She sat comfortably in a soft cushioned chair, her hands working as she sawed the almost complete sleeve of an otherwise finished white shirt. It had beautiful gold embroidering on its chest and along the sheems. Tay ran to her, his head only coming to hers even as she sat.

She hugged him as he recounted the morning. Although she did not entirely agree and enjoy the fact that her husband was teaching their son archery, and thus ingraining a love of such things into him, but she couldn’t help but be pleased, nonetheless.

However, she did not let the things she wanted to teach him be overshadowed, so she took him for the rest of the day.

Tay was fairly proficient at the finer arts that his mother had been teaching him. Especially cooking. He enjoyed that, and he thought he was rather good at it too. That took up a large part of the day. It was 4 PM when he came out of his mothers study, his back aching from hunching over for far longer than he thought necessary.

His mother quickly made dinner—they had skipped lunch—And handed it out to Tay. He asked why they didn’t eat, and they simply said they were going out for a while. That was something they often did. Tay knew he shouldn't be surprised. It was 5 when the family's nanny came. She was a nice old woman. Her hair was still full, if a little more than a little grey. It was tied neatly in a flat sort of bun behind her head. Her eyes were always warm and she seemed to welcome the antics of the Mallor boy.

Tay went to bed on time that night, which was unusual. That very fact was something that Tay would think about for the months following. It was a foolish sort of worry. Perhaps, if he hadn't gone to bed so early, he could have stopped what would happen.

He had heard his parents come home. Heard their voices softly muttering. They came and checked on him; opened his door and he could almost feel their stairs. He thought about jumping up and hugging them, but he didn’t want them to know he was still awake, much to his own frustration. He hated just laying in bed.

But when he heard them shut the door, and heard their footsteps fading gently into the hallway to their room, he found that sleep finally was ready to take him.

But apparently, it wasn’t ready to keep him.

He woke with a jolt. He heard a faint sound of…crackling like someone was slowly bending a thin piece of wood. He unwound himself from his coverings, throwing them off—They almost fell to the floor. Then he smelt it. It was thick and painful in his nostrils. It was seeping in through the cracks on the top of his door. He noticed it was getting faster quickly.

He opened it and found he was faced with bright and angry fire. It lashed at him, but he ducked low, and found cooler air. He slowly made his way out into the hallway and started for the room that his nanny was in. He struggled with the door, wincing at the heat from the doorknob. But he eventually got it open. He found his Nanny. She was laying on the ground, her chest heaving. She looked at Tay and with what little strength she had, pushed herself up.

Tay helped her by wrapping her arm around her. They dodged falling fiery debris, and what they couldn't The nanny pushed out of the way with her wind magic. They eventually found themselves at the door of Tay’s parents. The Nanny was now straining herself as she held an orb of air around them, keeping the roaring fire at bay.

Tay struggled with this again, but this time he wholly ignored the pain. The crashed open, the wood it’s hinges were attached to had been burnt to nothing. Tay’s eyes widened. The room was ablaze. The bed that was once sitting in the middle of the room was almost completely gone. And crushed underneath a massive roof strut was the black bodies of two people.

A man and a woman.

Tay screamed. He barely held himself up, not noticing the burns forming on his hand as he grabbed the wet still burning wall. From behind him, he heard a grunt. He looked back to see the frail form of his nanny. She cried for him to run, but he couldn’t move. A look of desperation flickered on her face, and then Tay was flung back into the hallway. Then the flames burning away at the building were temporarily calmed as a violent wind washed through them.

Tay tried to grab the hand of the woman, but another gust of incredibly strong wind sent him flying. He crashed through the window at the end of the hallway, his arms getting lashed and cut by the glass that he broke through.

He rolled along the ground, only stopping when his back found a solid wall. He gasped, but his eyes never shut. He watched as his home burned, as his life was slowly being destroyed. People soon found him as the fire continued to burn. They managed to put it out, but that was only after several more minutes.

They tried to consul him, but he couldn’t be around any, so he ran. And he didn’t just run that day, he ran every day for months. Every night he dreamt the lifeless bodies he laying in the roo of his family.

And for years, he wondered how that fire had started. How it had been so quick that not him or even his parents had noticed in time. And all along, it had been the man that would take him as his own little child.” The man who would teach him and train him and use him.

Frigun Harrow.

Alexander watched as Tay shook. His fists clenching hard enough to draw a trickle of blood.

The adventure couldn’t say anything. He had questions of course. But asking them seemed…wrong.

“That’s why I left you all.” Tay said, his voice quivering. Alexander could see that he was trying to relax, but it didn’t work. He suddenly shot up from his chair, picking up his word and sheathing it. He nodded curtly at Alexander.

“I must go, I assume that was enough?” He asked. Alexander nodded. He watched as his friend disappeared into the crowd. His day just got a lot longer.