It's strange how pleasant a snowstorm can be after living in the desert your entire life. The feeling of the soft snow melting onto my skin was an appreciated change from the harsh sandstorms I was used to. However I did have to admit, I'd heard it was colder east of my town, but this was a bit excessive. Was everywhere like this? I stumbled through the bustling cobblestone streets of Artis - a relatively small village in the centre of Faye making it an ideal centre for trade - and smiled as I noticed the floating orbs lining the sides of the path, lighting the streets and melting the snow beneath them. Children played around the orbs; leaping over them and throwing snowballs at each other. Meanwhile their parents sat at the local café, sipping their drinks and shivering. They were clearly not dressed appropriately, wearing hot pants and crop tops. No, everywhere was not like this. This place had a unique atmosphere. An eager feeling of anticipation filled the air as if the town itself was waiting for something incredible to happen. I smiled and stared down at my right hand, stroking its palm with my left and smiling. I couldn’t believe I had been lucky enough to have an ability. It had been unheard of in the Deadlands for centuries and I of all people had received this gift. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Some people treated me differently once my magic had been unleashed, whether it was jealousy or fear I wasn’t sure, but the one person who would always treat me the same was my mother. As soon as I had told her what had happened she shooed me out of the house with a bag of supplies, exclaiming “Don’t you come back till you’re a legend!” Her smile as dazzling as the golden sun that bore down upon the desert. I had vowed to make her proud. I was going to help as many people as possible and the best way to do that was by joining an Order – a sort of club for mages of all kinds – and the one located in Artis lay before me. It was smaller than expected and seemed to be crumbling under its own weight. Snow completely covered the roof – as it had with every other building I’d passed – so as far as I knew the roof could’ve been beautifully adorned with gold and jewels of all kinds. Red rubies. Saxe sapphires. I highly doubted this was the case. The walls were moulding and had been dyed a dirty black colour (though it was clear that this was not the colour they were intended to be). Even the sign advertising the guild was decrepit, having once read the name of the guild but the font was too faded to make out. Hesitantly, I stepped closer to the building and placed my hand against the oaken double doors. “Even the greatest heroes have humble beginnings…” I grumbled. I pushed on the doors and stepped into the guildhall.

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