Jerol busied himself with the daily tasks of the butcher's shop he worked in.

In the nameless village that he called home, work was scarce. And he was very fortunate to have been hired on. The work itself was far from glamorous, but everyone needed to eat.

Of course, few in the village could afford the luxury of meat on their tables.

Jerol wasn't such a person. The very food he distributed was beyond his means to afford.

Still, the income was good and Jerol could afford the rice that was a staple for his family. His father and mother were getting on in years. And, while they yet worked, their days of toil were ending.

He could see it in the way his father would wheeze as he labored on the small plot of land that was allowed to him. His mother was in better condition. But, sometimes she would forget things. It worried him. But, the most he could do was what he was already doing.

Things were easier, if only marginally, when his brother was still with them.

Rook, barely a man, had disappeared one day months ago. The young man was something of an herbalist. He had an eye for the medicinal plants that grew on the hill behind the village.

The pay for such herbs was low, and Jerol's brother didn't bring as much to the household as the butcher himself. But, even the little bit was a blessing.

And yet, the young man had vanished without a word.

Jerol doubted that Rook would just abandon the family in search of some foolhardy adventure. He wasn't the kind.

Most likely, Jerol's brother was dead.

The world's a harsh place. And, while there weren't any beasts on the hill, there were terrors far worse in the sky.

Immortal. The word is both enviable and contemptible. Those who stand above.

They are known to come to villages like Jerol's and demand tribute. Or satisfy some thrill that comes from stepping on those below them.

"Hah," Jerol's mother sighs. "I hope Rook's doing well."

Her son smiles sadly, "I'm sure he's fine."

"He should have said something if he was going to run off. Even for a girl, you don't just leave home without telling your parents."

Jerol and his father share a look as they eat their rice gruel.

"Don't worry," his mother says as if to comfort them. "He'll come home soon. He's never been that adventurous."

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"You're right," Jerol's father says without much resolve.

They sit in silence. The shack they call home doesn't even have chairs for them to sit on as they eat. Their meal is enjoyed, as comfortably as possible on the floor.

The depths of poverty are not glamorous. And, in a world where every resource is hoarded by the immortal sects, there is little to go around for mundane mortals.

The night passes in darkness. Without candles or fuel, the family goes early to bed and begins the new day with as much optimism as they can manage.

The butcher's shop is predictable and bloody. The shop's not a slaughterhouse, so Jerol doesn't have to participate in the killing of the beasts. But, the smell and texture of blood are deeply engrained into his mind.

In many ways, it's better that he can't afford the meat.

A bitter chuckle rises from him as he recognizes the lie.

One day as he minds the shop, a young woman enters the store. She's about Rook's age and Jerol knows that his brother was sweet on her throughout their youth. Of course, her family was much more wealthy than his own. There was no chance for Rook to gain their favor.

Still, the woman had seemed to like the young man more than a little.

"Jerol," the young woman says familiarly. "How are you today."

The butcher smiles as he wipes his hands with a rag.

"I'm doing well, Rachel. It's good to see you. I have your order set aside. I hope your family's doing well."

She smiles, "They are, thanks. Has there…." Her smile falters. "Has there been any word from Rook?"

Jerol shakes his head, "No."

Rachel deflates a little, "I'm sure…. He probably went off looking for flowers."

The man's brother forces himself to chuckle, "You know him too well. Let's hope he comes back with a great harvest."

She smiles slightly, "Now. You have my order?"

Jerol nods and sees to the task.

As the young woman leaves, melancholy returns to the butcher.

Dammed Rook. He's made them all worried about him. And, nobody wants to admit that he's probably…. Dead.

Anger flashes across Jerol's mind.

He doesn't know. But…. He knows.

The immortals do this shit all the time.

They just fly around as gods and crush the peasants. It's not fair. But, who's to stop the superhuman beings, who cultivate the chi of heaven and earth, from doing whatever they want?

One would have to be an immortal to face an immortal. And then, they'd just do as the rest do.

Jerol is bitter in his heart as he closes the shop and returns to the small shack his family calls home.

The night's meal is as it was before. It doesn't even have the sparse seasoning of herbs Rook once gathered for them.

His parents chat while Jerol's caught up in thought.

The day's dying, when suddenly a sound rings out. There's a knock on the door to their rundown shack.

Alarm flashes through Jerol's mind and stress shows on his parent's face. But, after a fleeting moment of anxiety, his mother's face brightens.

Hastily, the older woman stands to reach the door. But, Jerol beats her to it. He's far from relieved of his concern for the potential stranger at their door that night.

With a deep breath, Jerol opens the door. And, what he sees confuses him.

A man in orange, white, and brown silk stands before him. The clothes are finer than any the butcher's seen before.

It takes him a moment to see beyond the fancy garb of the man. But, in the moment of recognition, Jerol feels his eyes sting.

"Rook!" his mother cries out with tears already falling from her eyes.

The woman pushes past her older son to embrace the one she'd lost.

Jerol watches, numbly, as his father, with watery eyes, joins his mother in hugging their son.

Rook's own face is complicated in its expression, speaking to a longing that seems far deeper than it should.

Jerol sees a stranger when he looks into his brother's eyes. He sees a man out of time. Not the youth he'd been just months ago.

In a way, the man he sees before him scares Jerol.

This is not a youth.

Jerol swallows the anxious feeling that wells up from within him and joins his parents in hugging their lost kin. For everything else, Rook has returned.

The butcher's brother is back.