Something was happening in the city; people were gathering, but Kenneth didn't know why.

Then he heard it.

Zahn's high-pitched voice was echoing through the streets.

"Run away, little girl!" called the head sorcerer. "You're not wanted here!"

Kenneth was tall for his age, as tall as a man, and he lifted his head above the crowd as everyone moved down the dirt road. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach; days ago, he'd heard that there was a bounty on the head of one of his friends. Bree, a street kid from town, was wanted, and the prize for bringing her in was one hundred pieces of silver. Kenneth's own father had been on the lookout for her, but he hadn't found her. It appeared that nobody had.

Until now.

As Kenneth turned the corner where the market ended, he carefully pushed his way through the crowd until he was standing right at the front.

Out in the field, Bree was walking away.

Nobody in the crowd spoke. Bree was one of theirs, no matter the trouble she got herself into, but they were helpless as they watched her go.

Zahn lifted his staff and pointed it in her direction. Kenneth pushed his way toward him, ready to defend her.

But he was too late. A huge bolt of red lightning burst from the tip of Zahn's staff, and Kenneth's breath caught as he watched it soar across the sky. Bree turned at the last possible moment and lifted her hands, shooting silver fire back at the city, meeting Zahn's own bolt in midair.

Kenneth stopped, entranced by the sight of this girl out in the field defending herself without anyone else's help. He'd never seen her do magic, not like this. He looked over at Zahn, and he was surprised to find his face contorted with concentration, with rage.

Under different circumstances a smile might've crossed Kenneth's face as he watched his friend fighting back; instead, his heart thudded in his chest as he waited to see what would become of her.

The bolt of fire that Bree was sending in Zahn's direction never wavered, and it was so forceful that he wondered how anyone could manage magic like that. Bree had healed him on occasion, and he'd often been on the receiving end of little jolts of power she would sometimes send through him.

But lately, the tight feeling in his chest when she was close by had less to do with the magic she was sharing; his requests for her kisses had become more desperate. The game of cat and mouse they had always played was no longer a game at all.

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Not to him.

Out in the field, Bree's fire pushed against Zahn's, slowly inching its way closer and closer to the old tyrant until he looked more fearful than angry. Finally, he stepped back, breaking the connection between them. He grunted in frustration, stumbling and nearly hitting the ground.

She had won.

When he righted himself, Zahn muttered something under his breath, just audible enough for Kenneth to hear.

"Little brat," he said. "Good riddance."

Then, making sure that Bree's back was turned again, he turned around and made his way back toward the castle. His students followed him; only the red-haired sorceress stayed behind for a few moments, watching her leave. But she, too, finally turned and followed the others.

As the people in the crowd slowly dispersed around him, Kenneth stayed right where he was, unwilling to move from the spot. He kept his gaze upon Bree's retreating back as she left the rundown city they'd both called home their entire lives.

For a moment, he was tempted to join her, but then he realized he was totally unprepared for such a journey.

Suddenly, that didn't matter.

He turned and started pushing his way through the crowd. He had a backpack in his father's market stall, and if he was quick enough…

He ran.

It seemed to take forever to get back to the little tent his father occupied; he, himself, had spent many a night there guarding the food against beggars and rats.

Those days were over now. He knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what to do.

As he slipped beneath the curtain of the tent, he snatched up his pack and quickly grabbed a few things from the piles of fruit, stuffing the pack until it was nearly full to bursting.

"What are you doing back here, boy?" his father asked as he approached.

Kenneth didn't answer. The man hadn't been horrible, had never laid a hand on him. But he had a cold heart, and a life of selling in the market was not something Kenneth had been looking forward to.

He ran out of the stall, not even giving the old man a second look as he raced back toward the edge of town.

But when he got there, he stared around, squinting his eyes as he looked for Bree on the horizon.

She had disappeared.

He took a couple of desperate steps in the direction she'd gone in, but then he heard his father's voice behind him.

"She's gone, boy," he said, out of breath from chasing him, clearly irritated. He had failed to win the silver for her capture after all. "He'll kill her if she comes back. Best to let her go."

Suddenly, it was hard for Kenneth to breathe. He put his hands over his chest, tight now for another reason. He knew that he would likely never see her again.

He looked down at the cracked earth beneath his feet and then up at the horizon, searching one last time.

But finally, with the pull of the city behind him, he turned back. He walked straight by his father without a word, back toward a life he didn't want, toward a life with no magic, no Bree.

Not anymore.

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