Life wasn’t always so complicated. I had my parents to thank for those happy, simple times. They started a life away from all the trouble and turmoil of the cities, away from the people who thought us lesser simply because we couldn’t live past a century.

Yes, by some cruel twist of fate, humans are the shortest-lived race out of all of them. Dwarves? At least three centuries. Orcs? Some of their elders have pushed past two-hundred years. Elves? Don’t make me laugh, they’re practically immortal. Hell, even goblins, those sneaky little shits, can outlive humans with an average of a century. Meanwhile, humans struggle to live past seventy, eighty if you are lucky.

Most of the races out there only see us as cheap labor. Even should someone dedicate their whole life to the practice of a specific trade, there’s always a dwarf or an elf out there with at least a century’s worth of experience that can outdo them handily. I suppose the one upside that we have that keeps us in competition with the other races is our relatively short childhood. Orcs aren’t considered to be fully grown until they are thirty-five, and it only increases the longer the lifespan.

Frankly, I miss being a kid. You don’t really appreciate the freedom that comes with the naivety of childhood until you grow up and are able to look back on it. It was so simple back then. Wake up, help my parents tend to the farm, go play, sleep.

My parents settled in a small village just far enough from the city that we didn’t often get visitors, but close enough that it wasn’t a hassle to sell produce or seek aid should it be needed. Everyone in the village was human, a small commune of like-minded people who wanted nothing to do with snobbish races that inhabited the continent. We all looked out for each other, protected one another, and lived our lives as happily as we could.

It wasn’t always easy. Even as a kid I could remember winter chills that bit to the bone, roaming beasts or monsters that put the village on high alert until we could hire some mercenaries or adventurers to deal with them, and times were the food wasn’t plentiful, and we had to watch how much we ate. Despite all of that, I remember those years fondly, and with a certain tinge of sorrow.

Every morning was the same for me. We would wake at sunrise, eat breakfast, and then start working. I would always tend to the animals while mom and dad would work in the field. My job was to feed, water, and clean as was needed, which would usually eat up several hours out of the day.

I always relished finishing my work for the day because that meant I could play. Not to say I ever cut corners in my work; dad beat that out of me the first few times it happened. No, everything was done perfectly, which meant that I was off the hook for the day.

With my chores done, I raced back to dad to report their completion and get released from my obligations. He was currently in the field watering plants, pulling weeds, just general maintenance over the crops. Dad was fit, lean muscles hardened by honest labor flexed and relaxed with his movements. Sweat accumulated on his brow as he tore up another stubborn weed from the ground before wiping his face and running a hand through his thick brown hair that I too shared with him with a huff. He saw me running toward him and gave me a grin from his slightly stubbled face.

“Samuel, you finish your chores?” He called out to me as I approached.

“Yes sir.”

He nodded at me in a way that said he was confident that I did. I could scarcely imagine the grueling work he would put me through if I ever lied to him about that. “Good, now go ask your mother if she needs any help, and if she says no, then you can go play.” He already knew what I was going to ask.

I beamed at him before racing off to find mom. She was working on some of the more delicate plants that we grew here, the kind used in medicine as I understood it. I raced up to her side and launched into the question. “Hey mom, need any help?”

She turned towards me, brushing some of her lighter brown hair out of her eyes as she did. I think she could see my eagerness to go as a playful grin spread across her face while the skin around her lovely blue eyes that she saw fit to share with me crinkled a little.

“Hmm, do I need any help?” She drew out her words slightly longer than normal, feigning deep thought about the otherwise simple question. The longer she took thinking, the more I vibrated with pent up energy that needed to be released. This was a common game she liked to play with me, much to my annoyance and her amusement.

Thankfully she didn’t see fit to keep me there for more than a minute this time. “Well, can’t really think of anything right now.” That was as good as an answer as I needed, and I lunged forward and gave her a quick hug before taking off again. “Be careful now.” She called out after me.

“I will!” I yelled back while still running towards the village center.

Sometimes I would play with the other kids of the village, but today I had something special in mind that would take me into the woods. On my way I passed by many familiar faces. There was Annabelle the baker, selling her sweet bread, Markus the carpenter, who was currently helping to fix someone’s roof, and Albert the old man who lived with his family near the edge of town. I would often have brief conversations with Albert in passing. He was always one to worry whenever I went out into the woods, such was his only job in his old age, and today was no different.

“Whoa young Samuel, if you don’t slow down you might trip over a root and hit your head out there.” Despite his concern, he knew it was futile to try and convince me not to go.

“Will not!” I replied boisterously.

Albert chuckled at me. “Oh, to be young and so convinced that you’re invincible. Just don’t cross the river, we can’t do much for you if you’re that far out and you run into a monster, or gods forbid, the undead.”

I didn’t know why he was so concerned about the undead that he would mention it almost every time I went out. It was always strange to me that only humans turned into the undead sometimes. Dad always told me that it was because we didn’t live very long that sometimes people couldn’t do all the things that they wanted to in life. Those lingering desires or regrets would cause them to rise again, angry at the living for having what they wanted. Still, I had never seen nor heard of one around the village, so like the good child I was, I lied.

“Okay, I won’t.”

Albert simply sent me on with a nod as I raced into the woods. The smell of damp earth and the trees crowded my senses as I ran through the woods, leaping over fallen logs, rocks, and ravines. I knew almost every last inch of forest land around the village, though I had only grown so bold as to travel beyond the river recently.

I had found a fallen tree that bridged the gap between the sides of the river and used that to cross. The week before I had started exploring this side of the river, and it was just yesterday that I found something amazing. Pushing through some undergrowth I emerged into a clearing and saw my discovery sitting in the glade.

The ruins of some ancient building were sitting in the clearing, dilapidated, and hardly even visible amongst the vegetation. The stones that once made up its walls were crumbling, practically as I stood there looking at it. I could only imagine what it would look like when it still stood. From what little clues were remaining inside, if you could even call it that, it was probably some sort of church, or temple. A destroyed statue sat in the main hall on the opposite end from the entrance, probably the subject of worship at one time. Whatever splendor it must have held was long gone though, reduced to only a pair of feet upon a crumbling pedestal, ravaged by time.

I didn’t think too hard on it though. For me, this place was my castle, and I was the king who ruled it. No stone was left unclimbed as I bounced around from one corner of the ruins to the other, fighting dragons, trolls, and entire armies off by myself. I was the king, I was all powerful, I was... slipping.

One misplaced foot as I jumped onto the pedestal sent me tumbling forward. In a reaction I reached for the remains of the legs to catch myself only to cut my hand on the jagged rocks that remained. I barely even registered the pain from that as I was more concerned with the quickly approaching ground that rushed up to meet me.

I landed roughly in the dirt and grass, gracefully eating a mouthful of it as my majestic failure came to a head. Groaning and spitting up the little bits that were stuck in my mouth, I stood up and dusted myself off only to wince as a sting shot up my hand. A trickle of blood was running down my hand and dripping onto the ground. A hiss escaped me, and my eyes teared up a little bit as the throbbing pain hit me now that I was fully aware of the injury. I toughed it out though, sniffling a little, but not crying.

When I looked to where I had cut myself, I saw the jagged bit of rock on the remnants of the legs that had drawn my blood. It was dyed with a few drops of my blood, and I sneered at the stone that hurt me. “Stupid statue.” I spat out at it as I suckled on my wound.

Suddenly I didn’t really feel like playing anymore, and besides, the wind was picking up, bringing in the chill of the afternoon with it. It was time to go home, so I retreated into the woods towards the village again.

I was in no rush to get back home, there was still plenty of light left in the day. When I made it back, I was greeted by Albert, who immediately took notice of the little bit of blood on my hand. “Oi, lad, what happened there?”

Not wanting him to know that I went past the river, I created another likely story that was partially true. “I slipped and cut my hand on a rock.”

The old codger smirked at me. “Hehe, told you didn’t I.”

I frowned, feeling indignant. “I didn’t trip on any root, I just slipped!”

“Same difference, you were going too fast weren’t you.” I just glowered at the smug old fart who mocked me, which only spurred more chuckles. “Well kiddo, hopefully you learned a lesson from this. Come here a moment and I'll get that cleaned for you.”

Despite my sour mood at his teasing, I took him up on the offer of aid as he cleaned the cut with some water and rag before tying it up with skill that was deceiving of his old age. “There you go lad, now run along an-” He suddenly burst into a fit of coughing, covering his mouth and turning away as he heaved.

A bit of concern went through me at that moment. “Are you okay?” I placed a hand on his shoulder, but he waved me off. After another moment of him coughing, he slowly stopped and took a few deep breaths.

“I’m alright lad, just a bit of bad air in my lungs.” With a sigh he sat up and gave me a reassuring smile. “Such things tend to happen as you get older, don’t let it concern you.” There wasn’t much I could do if he said that everything was fine, so I just nodded at him. “Now, you should head home and make sure you get something good to eat. Need all the food you can get if you want to grow up strong.”

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My concern about his health was swept away. “Yeah! I want to be strong like dad.”

“And I'm sure you will.” He smiled at me, that warm smile that a parent might offer to a child. I waved goodbye to him as I ran off towards home.

Naturally my parents questioned me about my injury, and I was able to convincingly relay my story of slipping in the woods and cutting my hand on a rock. Dad scolded me for my carelessness and mom fussed over my little injury, but neither of them seemed to suspect me going beyond the village borders. I wanted my castle to be a secret, something that only I knew of, and I didn’t want my parents to take it from me either.

Luckily it seemed like that wouldn’t happen, and I ate with them feeling like I got away with a crime. The day continued and ended the same as any other, and we all retired for the day. The next day, however, was the start of many painful memories.

When I woke, it was a splitting headache. My body felt like it was on fire and yet I shivered as sweat dripped off me. I coughed and my throat was hoarse and ragged. It hurt, and mom must have picked up on my pain as she was quickly up and at my side.

She placed the back of her hand on my head, a look of deep concern on her face. “Samuel, you’re burning up! Stay here, I'm going to get you some water.”

That sounded amazing, and while I eagerly awaited the arrival of the water, dad came over to check on me as well. It was a rare moment when I saw concern on his face, yet he wore it readily right now as he felt my head. He tried to hide his worry as best he could and offered a few words to ease my own.

“Don’t worry son, you’re strong and full of life. You’ll be better before you know it. Just get some rest.”

I did as I didn’t feel like I even had the strength to sit up right now. Mom gave me water with some medical herbs from the garden crushed and added to it. It tasted bitter, but the water was a welcome relief that allowed me to fall asleep once again.

The next time I woke the sun had passed noon. I was still miserable, but my discomfort was outweighed by the conversation my parents were having.

“Half the village is sick; the other half is desperately trying to avoid falling ill as well. This is serious, we need to get help.” My mother’s voice was tinged with worry and seemed a little hoarse.

“Who would come? They don’t care about us, that’s why we moved here. Even if we did find someone willing to, they would just gouge us for every last coin we had. We wouldn’t be able to survive the winter if that happened.” Mom didn’t say anything to that, and dad eventually sighed with dejection. “Listen, if his fever doesn’t break after tomorrow, I'll go into town and try to find a doctor.”

“Thank you dear.” Mom coughed a little, stifling it. My worries returned as I thought that she might be getting sick too. I tried to reassure myself that they could do anything. Dad was strong, and mom was smart, if anyone could fix things, they could.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes awakened when mom wanted me to drink or eat some of the soup that she had made. She did the best with the medical herbs that she had growing in the garden, but other than easing some of the pains I had, they didn’t seem to be working.

The next morning, I awoke to a disconcerting sight. Mom looked pale and weak, even as she smiled softly at me the same way she always did. I wanted to ask her about that, but my voice failed me, coming out as just a croak.

“Shhh, don’t push yourself. Drink, rest, everything will be okay.” She brought a cup up to my lips and helped me drink. It tasted of herbs again, more from the garden I figured. After I finished drinking, she sat by the bedside, running a gentle hand through my hair in a pleasant fashion until I eventually went to sleep again.

My sleep was sporadic, often interrupted by bouts of coughing or the fulfillment of bodily needs. I tried to remain positive, even as it hurt to just swallow a spoon full of food. I believed in mom and dad, that they knew what they were doing.

When I woke part way through the end of the day my parents weren’t in the house. I was thirsty, but I couldn’t find the strength to stand and get some water myself, which in my mind meant that I was worried about dying from thirst. To my great relief, I heard them talking outside, but there was another voice I didn’t recognize.

As they got closer, their words became audible enough for me to make out. “We’re so glad that you showed up. We were starting to become concerned that we would need to find a doctor in the city before long.” Mom said.

“Yes, this whole situation has been rather taxing on us.” That was dad, and I didn’t like how he sounded. It was almost like his voice was hollow, and to me it was so far removed from his normal confident manner of speaking that it was disturbing. “But why are you out here? Don’t get me wrong, we appreciate any help you might give, it’s just strange to find priests so far off the main roads.”

An unfamiliar voice answered his question. “It was simply divine providence that brought us to your humble home. The Lord of Light bade us spread word of his teachings, and so we sought out any who might heed his words and accept them.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when the door opened and the three stepped inside. Once they were out of the direct light that hurt my eyes, I got my first look at this stranger. They wore fitted robes of white with yellow embroidery on the chest in the form of a stylized sun. A very richly colored yellow-gold sash was tied around his waist while a typical travel bag hung over his shoulder. All of that would have been quite the remarkable sight in and of itself, but what really drew my attention was that this priest was an elf.

My dad never trusted other races, and my mom wasn’t exactly fond of them either. To have an elf of all people invited into the house was bizarre beyond anything else. I was always told that they didn’t care about what happened to us, so everything that we needed we had to get for ourselves. What was wrong with us that they would put that aside?

The priest came up to my bed wearing a smile that felt more professional than sincere. “Hello young man, I hear you’ve been feeling a little under the weather.”

I was a little nervous talking to not only a stranger, but someone who had been vilified in my mind as unempathetic. That was not to mention that my throat felt like sandpaper, so I could only nod a little with a small hum of acknowledgement. It was enough for him though, and he reached into his bag to remove glass vial with some slightly viscus liquid.

“This is medicine, created by our temple to help the sick recover. I won’t lie, it’s not exactly pleasant on the tongue, but it should help you.”

I cringed a little at being told it wouldn’t taste good, but mom encouraged me to take it. As I stared into it, I winced and tipped it back into my mouth. Gods, the taste of it. I nearly choked as I forced the substance down. Mom was thankfully there with water to help me get the taste out of my mouth.

More of the medicine was given to my parents who accepted it with thanks from my mom and begrudging acknowledgement from my dad. Apparently, it was a group of priests that came to the area from the city. They were administering aid to the village as part of their doctrine to help the suffering, according to them, and promised to return with further aid should the treatment not work.

The medicine they gave me did help, at least for a little while. For a few days I was actually feeling a little better, but after that, the sickness came back with a vengeance. I was a coughing mess, suffering from hot flashes, and it felt like my chest was filled with water. Mom and dad were also looking worse. They were trying to hide it from me, but I could tell in their movements that they were in pain.

One night, when they thought I was asleep, they had a conversation that hit me hard. My mom spoke with my dad in a quiet voice. “I just heard a little while ago, but Albert died.”

“Albert? Shit.” Dad coughed a little before continuing. “The old man was always looking after everyone. He didn’t deserve this. How’s his family holding up?”

“They’re taking it hard. They didn’t expect to lose him so soon, especially since he was in good health just a few days ago.”

I heard dad sigh heavily. “It’s getting worse Mary. I don’t think there’s anyone who’s not sick. I may have my misgivings, but I really hope that those priests can bring us a miracle.”

The sound of rustling sheets accompanied them getting into bed and settling in. I didn’t sleep a lot that night. Tears ran down my face in silence as I struggled to grasp the fact that Albert wouldn’t be there anymore to scold me, warn me, care for me like I was one of his grandkids. I think it was that night that hope started to slip away from me.

The priests did return with a number of alchemists and healers with them. Everyone in the village was subjected to the various treatments they proposed. If I was healthier, I would have been in awe at all the things that I had seen. I knew magic existed, but I had never seen it before. The soft glow of light from the talisman the healer used warmed my body and dulled the pain, but whatever was afflicting us was not so easily dispelled.

At a certain point, even I could start to see that this was all just delaying the inevitable, and I guess the priests felt the same as well. They stopped coming, and almost no sooner than that, people started dying. Without the efforts of those brought in, everything just progressed and got worse. We couldn’t even bury those who died. No one had the energy left to dig a hole. The bodies were simply wrapped in cloth and placed in an underground storage shed on the edge of town.

The village, normally lively and filled with color and laughter, was grey, wilted... dying. Dad tried to keep working for as long as he could just to keep us fed with what was left in the fields. He did this, until the day his body finally gave out on him, and he collapsed in the dirt.

I didn’t even know how to process what had happened. To me, dad was a pillar of strength, standing steadfast against anything. The thought of him dying was so foreign a thought that I couldn’t even understand it, even as I stood over his body, wrapped in the clean cloth and lowered into that cellar with the others. Few people attended the funeral, most having been bedridden for the last few days as I had been. I only found the strength for this one last thing before I too was relegated to immobility.

Mom soldiered on the best she could after dad passed, but every night I could hear her quietly sobbing in their bed. We started running low on food as no one was able to work for any. What little we had mom gave to me, making sure that I wouldn’t have to go hungry even as she went without.

All the color was gone from her. The same woman who brought a smile into our lives even at the worst of times couldn’t even hold one of her own as she rapidly faded away. Her features had become gaunt, sickly, and ravaged by illness. Then, the day that will forever be inscribed in my memory came.

As mom shuffled across the house trying to scrape together just a little more food, she suddenly seemed to lose her footing and fell face down on the floor. I expected her to weakly make it back onto her feet, but she didn’t move from her prone position. My breath hitched as I stared at her lying there on the floor.

I called out to her in a weak voice, barely louder than a whisper. “Mom?” She didn’t respond. “Mom... get up.” She didn’t move. Tears were starting to blind me. “Please... get up!” My voice cracked and strained even as my throat burned with the exertion, and yet I couldn’t even cry out to her properly. “Please... mom... don’t leave me...” But she was already gone, and I could do nothing but cry pitifully in my bed, too weak to even cross the short distance to her body.

Would anyone even know she died? Was there even anyone left? I knew deep down that I was alone now, no one was coming, and mom wouldn’t even get a proper funeral.

There was nothing left for me to do but cry and wait for the sickness to take me too. That was just what I did, all through the afternoon and into the dead of night, where only the cold and the quiet were there to greet me.

In the dark there was only despair and misery for me as I slowly died alone. Though, suddenly, something felt different. The air in the room suddenly filled with a fog that hung low over the ground. My breath was visible in the air, though I felt it wasn’t nearly cold enough for that to happen. I was convinced that this was what it looked like when you died, but then a voice came from the dark, gentle and soft.

“Poor child, scorned and forgotten by the world. I hear your cries, I feel your sadness, you who have freed me from my forced slumber with crimson life.”

Despite the calm nature of the voice, it scared me, because I couldn’t see who it belonged to. “Who’s there?” My voice could still barely even get louder than a whisper.

“You know me too well dear child, and yet, I too have been forgotten by the world. Who I am matters less than what I offer. I can give you a second chance to live, to spend more time with the people you love.”

“What?” That sounded too good to be true, and impossible besides.

“I will save your life, but also lay claim to it, for I am in need of a champion, one who might bring salvation to my children who wander the world lost and hurt. You will get a second chance, time again, with your family and friends should you desire, but I will require your service once you come of age.”

I didn’t know what to think of the offer this strange voice made for me. There was a chance that I was simply delusional, imagining this, and yet, I wanted so desperately to see my parents again. The weight of this deal was not lost on me, but I had already made my choice. I took one last strained swallow to clear my throat enough to respond.

“Okay.”

“Vow that you will serve me, even if the whole world will hate you for it, and I will give unto you the power to change your fate.”

“I promise.”

The room suddenly became pitch black, and in that darkness, I felt a hand rest on my own. “The bargain is struck, your fate changed. Rest now, my champion. Tomorrow you will reclaim what was stolen from you.”

My eyes felt heavy, yet my body felt light. All the aches and pains faded away in a single soothing motion. I felt at peace, and for the first time in a long while, my sleep was undisturbed by pain. Blissful relief