I

“Be careful!” instructed Jerold. “This is only a minor casting, there is no need to cut so deep.”

A stream of blood ran from the cut in Nissa’s hand. Jerold was trying – unsuccessfully – to teach her how to do her first casting. They had been out here since daybreak and little progress had been made.

He was an older man. He had to be at least forty. It showed in his hair and face. Black hair with streaks of grey, and a wrinkled face that showed many years of stress. Aside from that, he looked like any other man in the village. He was of average height and size. Nissa was unsure if she’d be able to spot him in a crowd if it came down to it.

The first couple of attempts, while Jerold instructed, Nissa was off in her head imagining what she would do with her magic. She didn’t want to fight. Nissa wanted to adventure and she saw this as her only opportunity. Everyone learnt magic but only those who fought were permitted to travel. They also got trained at a much younger age and at higher frequency. If regularly cutting herself was the only way to get out of the village, she would do it. She smiled at how morbid that sounded.

“You’ll never get anywhere if you keep living in your head”, he had told her.

Nissa focused on her desired outcome and sent the blood from her hand forward. The blood floated slowly from her hand and once it had collected but a mere foot away, she clenched her fist and the blood ignited in a single bright flame.

Nissa opened her eyes to see her work, and in her own giddiness, she lost control and the flame dissipated.

“Well done, girl,” Jerold acquiesced. “There’s still room for improvement but for now that’s enough. Run along and get cleaned up.”

“Thanks Jerold!” Nissa said excitedly. She had successfully made fire after many an attempt. She would remind herself not to cut so deep in future. Only a small amount of blood was required and she had sliced her hand open a little too enthusiastically she thought.

Jerold had told her that she was lucky to be born a woman. Apparently they make for better magicians. Something about childbirth. Nissa wasn’t paying full attention when he was telling her – she had only heard fragments of what he was saying.

Nissa cleaned her hand off in the river at the edge of the village. While walking home, she watched the village butcher cut into a pig, using it’s blood to cook its own meat as he sliced. A rather efficient use of the blood, she thought.

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Once home, she went and checked she had cleaned herself sufficiently in the mirror. She had observed from others that it wasn’t uncommon for blood to spray in one’s face. She didn’t want her mother to see her with blood on her face.

Nissa looked into the reflective glass, and a stranger looked back at her. She never liked how she looked. Pale skin that was almost pure white. Eyes light green with a glint that had always reminded her of morning grass. Hair red and straight as an arrow. It stretched down and met the small of her back. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance.

Her mother had always said that she looked the spit and image of her father, but she had never met him. She was told that he had died before her birth. Whenever Nissa asked about him, her mother had looked lost. It was obvious she missed him greatly so Nissa had stopped asking.

II

It was almost midday and Rhett was playing with his hound. It was still small and not yet grown, like him. He had vowed to himself that when he had come of age, he and Spirit would begin their fight together, slaying any enemy he faced. That was still years away.

Rhett was only of nine years. He was to begin his training later that day with his uncle. Rhett would also have to continue to train Spirit. She was being trained to hunt and fight alongside soldiers, but she wasn’t doing well due to her size. She reminded Rhett of himself.

As time passed, Rhett sat and watched all the older men head out and others making their return.

“Shouldn’t you be training her?” A voice called out.

Rhett turned to face where the voice came from.

“We were just taking a break uncle. She’s getting much better!”

“Well, we’ll see about that later. Now however, it’s time for your training.” Ulmer said. “I promised my brother that you’d be one of the best when you come of age. You don’t wish to make a liar of me, do you?”

“No uncle. Where would you have me begin?”

Ulmer sat down across from his nephew. “We’re going to be working on the strongest tool in any good paladin’s arsenal; illusions.”

“If it’s our strongest tool, why is it so rarely used?”

“Ahh, good question. The creation of an illusion is draining and requires a lot of focus. It is to be used sparingly and only under dire circumstances,” Ulmer started. “Creating illusions often will find you defenseless should your illusion fail.”

“So how does it work? How do I create an illusion?”

“First, you want to imagine what you want to create. Craft it in your mind. Not too large, I don’t want you passing out on me.” Ulmer paused for a moment giving Rhett a chance to come up with something. “Once you have what you want, focus on it and imagine it in front of you.”

Just a moment later, a flower appeared between the two of them.

“Nicely done. Hold that thought for a moment. Give the flower life, let it sway in the wind. It would be obvious if something such as a flower stood still in a strong wind,” he pointed out. “Make it look natural.”

Rhett did as such and the flower began to gently sway in the light breeze. Spirit stood and pawed at the flower, her foot passing through as if nothing was there.

“What’s next uncle?”