- Adrian -

“Hooolllly shit!.” I shout and lurch upright as cool water is poured directly onto my face and dry pillow. The culprit chuckles as I wipe my face off. “What the hell? If anything I should get to sleep in today,” I protest. Usually, the morning doves function as my wake-up call. Today it was my father.

“You’ll have to get used to waking up early, like a normal student. I won’t have you getting into the habit of sleeping late just because you’re off away on your own. I won’t let my son end up like your Aunt Jayla” Aunt Jayla was a person of… less motivation, to say the least.

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean you pour water on me,” I grumble. Being woken up is one of my biggest pet peeves, let alone being doused with water before the sun has even risen. I need my beauty sleep.

“It’s a big day. Deserves an extra-special wakeup call,” my Father says with a smirk.

I glare at him, annoyed. “What am I up this early for anyways?” I ask. “It’s not like I have anything to do.”

"You're up because it's your final day here and you shouldn't waste it sleeping," he says. "C'mon, let's go." He drops the bucket onto the floor and walks out of my room, leaving the door open.

I mumble a plethora of curses as I sit up and stretch all catlike. I look down towards the bucket. He spilled the leftover water all over the floor. So annoying. I hop off the bed and step over the bucket and splattered water. I clean it later. Maybe.

I change into some dayclothes and meet my father outside near the stables. You can hear the nearby creek gurgle with life as it cuts through the silence of the night. A slight breeze wafts the stench of manure my way.

"What are we doing?" I ask with an obvious tone of annoyance.

He motions for me to follow him. "Walk with me."

I follow him down the trodden path I've walked since birth. We pass over the bubbling creek, the now clear and sweet breeze sprinting off to greet the glittering stars in the distant sky. It's a beautiful night with not a cloud in sight. Or morning, I should say.

"One day when you were a kid," he begins a story, "You disappeared while I was watching you." I've already heard this a thousands times, but either he forgot or doesn't care. "I turned around for a split second and you were gone.' He chuckles. "Your mother was furious with me, and so scared. We both were," he pauses. "We searched for hours, checking every foot of the fields. Your mother even got a pretty bad sunburn. I thought it would be smart to check the ruins, as you'd always enjoyed hearing stories about them. Your mother thought it was a silly idea. She didn't think it was possible you knew the way there. So I walked and walked all the way to the ruins, and by the time I got there golden hour was setting in. Low and behold there you were, giggling your little head off as these bright whisps of colored light danced around like leaves blown in the wind. I couldn't believe it," he said. "My son? A favored? I didn't think it was possible."

That was the day we discovered I was favored. That I was one of the few that could command the forces of natures.

"We must have a distant connection to the family. I had no idea, and neither did your mother." We walk into the tree line.

"I remember, dad," I remind him. "I was there."

"I know, but still. It was quite the life-changing event. That one instant rerouted the course of all of our lives. It's why you're leaving in the first place."

"Not literally that moment. We would have found out later anyways had I not ran off, but I get what you mean." I say.

"Anyways, I'm just reminiscing," he says solemnly. We break from the forest and into a vast grassy field, the wind joining the grass to make a mesmerizing dance of viridescence. A comet shoots across the bright sky, leaving behind a glowing trail.

"It's tick season," I warn as we trek through the tall grass. I hate ticks.

"You'll be fine," my father says. "I'm the one that has to worry."

I laugh. He's right. If I focus, I can sense all the fauna and flora in our surroundings. It's fun to be able to do but honestly very overstimulating.

We walk in silence for several minutes until we come to a stop at the foot of Grandpa's grave.

"He would've loved to have seen how you turned out."

"You think so?" I ask. All my grandparents died when I was young. I knew most of them, but only briefly.

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"Of course. They all are so proud of you."

I look across all the graves. Generations upon generations of people, all leading up to me. I wonder if it was one of them that tied us into the Family.

My father pulls out something from his pocket, a wooden rose he whittled over the week. He lays it at the foot of his mother's grave, the woman who gave me my name.

He bows his head and I follow suit, joining him in prayer for several minutes.

"I have something for you," he says. From around his neck he removes his necklace. A family heirloom passed through the generations to the oldest male of the household. It's a beautiful and elaborately interwoven steel design, which is meant to signify the calmness of the soul. I always admired it from afar, as it was a valued possession of my father and he would let me hold it and wear it when I was younger. Usually I would have received it upon my Father's death.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"No not at all," he reassures. "I just had a feeling."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I press. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it." He insists.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's just a feeling I've got."

"What kind of feeling?"

"Don't worry about it, Adrian." He says, the tone in his voice imploring me to not push the issue further. "I'm fine. We're all fine. Just look forward to what's ahead. School will be the most exciting time of your life."

The uneasy feeling of his words did not fade, but his distraction had merit. In the following few days my life would change drastically. I will be enrolling at the Forge, the academy where everyone in the Family hones their control over the rift. Because I showed control at an early age, my parents had a Pathfinder come to the village and verify my aptitude. It was astonished that a Favored could come from such a lowly place, not that a Pathfinder would be discriminatory. It's just that the Favored come from blood lineage. If your father and mother are favored it's likely you will be as well. None of my parents were favored, nor were their parents, or their parents etc. As far as anyone knows, I'm the only favored to come from my bloodline, and definitely the only favored to come from my village. That's why they are throwing a farewell ceremony for me today. I represent their hope and pride. All their childhood dreams of leaving for fame and fortune to study at the Forge they rest vicariously on my shoulders. Saying it is a lot of pressure is an understatement.

My Father motions for me to turn around. I do so and he drapes the cold and worn chain around my neck. At it's touch if feel a vibe of life coming from it. All things give off a vibration. This one is of comforting and protection.

"Thank you," I say. I've waited since a child to have the honor of carrying the pendant. Now it feels surreal.

"It's been a joy watching you grow," my Father says. He isn't a very emotional person. I realize this is his version of a sendoff.

I envelope him in a quick hug. I'm going to miss my life here. It might not have always been sunshine and roses, but it's my home. I wasn't ready to give it up in the first place, but now that the time has come I feel numb.

The sun paints the sky a dark pink as we arrive back home. The chimney billows smoke as my mother begins to cook breakfast. I feel a deep sadness. This is the last time I'll eat some of Mom's cooking. The last sunrise I'll witness of my birthplace.

The birds begin to chirp as the forest comes to life with a vivacious fervor. It's almost as if it can sense my departure, and is calling out in a final farewell.

—————————————————————

- Cassius -

Jome was a terrible cook. I'm a picky eater, but Jome can't even cook the easy shit I like. Chicken Noodle Soup? How the hell do you mess that up? It's just hot water and some shit chopped up in a bowl. Thankfully Kathryn, who seemingly agreed with my palette, volunteer to cook breakfast this morning. As soon as she woke up she skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen to whip up some eggs and french toast. I'm surprised they even have shit that can make french toast.

"Too bad they don't have a Burger King," I say from my seat at the table as she cooks. Surprisingly enough this rickety old place had a small kitchen in the back. Not sure why Jome even bothered putting it to use though.

"What is a Burger King?" asks Jome. "There are no Kings by that title."

"It's nothing," piped up Kathryn. "If you want, Cassius, you can make a little sandwich with the bread and eggs we have here. Maybe Jome has some cheese somewhere you can use. It's not a croissant but with my cooking I bet it'll be just as good."

"With your cooking I bet I'd die from food poisoning before I could get a bite in," I reply.

"How the hell would that even work?" She asks with a grin. "A raw egg would give you food poisoning? Or would my cooking somehow make the food toxic? That doesn't make any sense."

"You'd probably poison it and steal my fresh fit."

"Your clothes are way too big. I'd have to use them as blankets. I'd poison you just to make you shut up."

I took everything I said when she served the plate. All of it was delicious. The syrup was nice and sweet, wherever Jome got it from, and the french toast was crispy and made perfectly. I can't cook for shit, so all of this is really impressive to me.

"This is so good," I say for the third time as I shove a fork-full of egg into my mouth. Can't let the syrup touch the eggs though. Vile stuff that would be. Jome grunts in agreement to my praise.

"Thank you," Kathryn says as her cheeks turn a slight pink.

"If I could cook like this I wouldn't be living here by myself, that's for sure," Jome voices between bites.

Thinking about my first night here, I try to ignite a flame again in my hand. It takes me a second, but then boom, there it is. Almost as if right in the palm of my hand burned a candlewick. I wave my hand around and even try heating up my french toast with it. I notice Jome staring at me with his mouth agape.

"Both of you?" He says astonished. I'm confused.

"What? Am I not supposed to do this? What's wrong?" I ask, mentally dousing the flame.

"What?" Jome asks, also confused. "Both of you are favored? Who the hell are you two?"

"We're from really far away," Kathryn interjects. We agreed on the first night to not tell anyone the total truth about where we came from. We doubted anyone would believe a word we said, and it seemed more of a cause for trouble than anything else. "Pretend like we don't know anything. What do you mean by 'favored'?"

"You can be foreign but you can't be that godsdamned foreign." He says in disbelief. "Are you runaways? Did you elope?"

"What? No!" Kathryn says quickly. "Nothing like that. We just come from a place where they didn't tell us anything about where we are. I'm not even sure what country we're in. I'd prefer not to talk about it either," she says bluntly. "Neither does Cassius."

Jome's eyes dart from each of us suspiciously. 'Fine," he relents. "I'll play along. What do you want to know?"