Jack’s Point of View

It has been a few months since the events that changed our world. I write the words down in my journal, which is a hobby I did not expect myself to start, but based on Amanda’s recommendation. My fingers guide the pen across the paper, the cold winter months remind me of my parents and their ice magic but they remind me of something even worse,” my hand hovers above the paper before it traces its words out once again, “my 15th birthday is a few days away, a marked reminder on the calendar of time that we are now alone.” My thoughts bleeding through the paper, remain on the paper as I write down the next thoughts, “Today however has been good so far, Angel has really taken a liking here and I won’t lie to myself, I am starting to like it here as well. Amanda and Mrs. Rose have been nice enough to let us live here with them as long as we help out with chores. I don’t know what we did to receive such mercy but thank you.” The shivering of my hand causes me to place the pen down and close the journal, I can write more after dinner. I stretch in my bed the rough course sheets pull at my exposed skin underneath. The scent of dust penetrates the air, I should probably clean up my room soon before I get in trouble. Swinging my legs off the side of the creaking bed, my toes meet face-to-face with the cold wooden floor. The sunset barely shining through the window as I lean over looking for a match. Finding the match box I pull out the match and streek it across the strip of flint. My eyes linger on the flame, memories of the past threatening to come to the surface. This is fire, this is not Azreal. I move my hand slowly while watching the fire with deep focus until hovering above the candle’s exposed wax. Lighting it, I feel the goosebumps tickle my spine. I hate this part of the day. Why didn’t a light wizard create some type of magical lighting yet? It seems like a pretty simple idea yet we still using the flames.

Leaving the candle lit I begin my daily routine of training. Dad taught me that a person’s magical capacity is decided at birth but won’t be fully realized until the end of puberty. I didn’t get that lucky when it came to my magical capacity but during the same lesson, Dad told me how spells work. Spells work like muscles, the more you use a specific spell the faster it will be, the stronger it will be, and the less mana it will use. This is why so many wizards specialize in a specific spell field. Standing in the middle of the room I push my magical enhancement magic to its limits and then get into a push-up position. Using my Ice Magic I cause blocks of ice to form at the tips of my toes and the bottom of my palms, using them as handles I start my pushups. Each rep causes the ice to snap slightly apart and my magic works on reshaping the ice back into the handles. I do this for a while until my mana is running out. Standing up I do some light stretches to end the day, even though I still have some mana left I need to make sure I’m ready at any time to protect Angel. I head to the showers and get dressed in fresh clothes.

It should be time for dinner time. I rush out the door in a brisk walk heading towards the restaurant part of the inn. Walking into the kitchen I see Angel and Mrs. Rose preparing some dishes, I sneakily grab a sausage, gotta make sure I get my protein in. Just like any other day I head out back to chop some firewood and do some outdoor chores. I look up at the sky, the nightlife of the birds, the cold wind snapping across my face, the scent of smoke from chimneys, and the illuminating moonlight providing the perfect environment to do work. Grabbing an axe I head towards the forest, the canopy that Angel and I once ran through. There are a few trees on the outskirts that are not too large but not too small for me to cut down. Positioning my feet at the side of the tree I hold the axe high up in the air just like Dad taught me. Letting the weight of the axe head provide the momentum I swing at the tree. The crackling sounds of woodchips flying through the air remind me of the way my life fell apart into many pieces. While low on mana my physical body is not fatigued at all swinging away is a good way to work it out. I will never be tired when running again. The axe cuts deep into the tree forming a wedge, the tree barely holding up. I take a moment to examine the work I’ve been able to do. With a final swing the tree sways. Jogging backwards I get out of its way as the winds push against its form. The cold winds brisking over my shirt as the tree’s branches swing around. When a harsher wind comes it causes the tree to topple down falling at my feet, the feet of the one who is responsible. With the tree on its side I pull out the piece of rope that was once my belt, wrapping it around the tree I tighten it into a knot creating a handle for me. Bending over and placing my hand underneath the tree I raise it into the air with a block of ice. I repeat this process on the length of the tree. Walking to the front of the tree I pull it forward, marching forward letting the ice slide it across the rough terrain.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

This is the toughest part of the job. Just gotta hope the ice doesn’t break again like last time. I slide to the backside of the inn which is a direct path from the forest’s treeline. Luckily the ice didn’t break so I got to work. Chopping the wood into smaller logs I am able to carry the individual logs to the stone pit. Placing it inside the pit I split the wood into more pieces. While doing this tedious process of chopping wood and chopping more wood, Angel comes outside holding something in her hand. My head aches when I notice it to be a lit candle. I push aside any thoughts that threatened to resurface placing a mask of a smile on my face as I greet Angel, “What’s up Angel?” Her dress brushes against the wind causing it to flow in every and any direction, a sight that you can only laugh at, which I may have or may not have given a small chuck to. “Hey! I heard that!” She threw her free hand to her side and shoved her chin in my face. I place the axe on the ground and back away with my hands up in the air, turning my eyes to the right in an exaggerated motion, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This causes her to get even more annoyed, as she waves her hips mimicking my exaggerated teasing, “Don’t lie to me, young man!” Oh Lord, she’s been taking notes from Amanda and Mrs. Rose. I cough into my hand, “I’m sorry Mrs. Angel, I’ll never lie again. I swear it on the great game of chess.” I give a salute on my head to show my ‘sincerity’. “Chess is fun! Don’t make fun of it!” Says the girl who always wins against me, I roll my eyes. “Fine, I won’t tell you that dinner is ready!” Angel turns around and storms off towards the inn. She just told me that it's ready… how can you be so smart but dumb at the same time? I’ll head inside after I finish chopping this lot of logs. Picking up my axe I head back to work. In between a swing, I notice something in the peripheral of my eyes. Swimming around with axe in hand I prepare for the worst. Nothing but the night sky. I scan around and that's when I see it, a snowflake slowly falling from the sky marking the real beginning of winter.

Finishing up the woodcutting I head inside. My light shirt is a little wet from the snow melting on it. May look a little weird but oh well, I shrug off the discomfort as I head inside. Inside I am met with the smirk of Amanda, “Perfect timing, take this and give it to table five.” Amanda shoves a bowl of soup into my hands, this is slavery I swear. “Hello to you too Amanda.” Amanda just gives me a wink before going deeper into the kitchen doing whatever she’s doing. Walking into the dining room I look around for table five. A man sitting alone reading a newspaper while sipping some tea is there. His black coat striking with the color of our wooden furniture, a merchant maybe? I walk over with the bowl of soup. A small splash from walking too fast reminds me that my shirt is wet and I’m serving customers, fuck this is embarrassing. Sometimes I wish I had learned Mom’s magic instead of Dad's. I sigh to myself as I approach the table. “Hello sir, you had the chicken soup?” I lift up the bowl of soup emphasizing that I am talking of this specific bowl of soup. The gentleman looks from his newspaper, “Yes young lad.” He smiles warmly at me, I place the soup in front of him. I notice one of the headlines of the newspaper he is reading reads, Demon Attack Leaves Hundreds Dead. A bit intrigued about the story I decided to ask the man about it. “Anything interesting in the paper today?” The man lets out a sigh, “Yes, the town of Eldama was attacked by an Ice Demon hundreds dead including the mayor.” Eldama, the town I am from. My throat starts to clog up but I keep my composure in the face of this man deciding to ask a question that I just need to know the answer to, “If the mayor’s dead who’s in charge of the town?” The man looks up at me and his tone steady, “The local wizard guild master, he goes by the name of Master Brandon.” He places the paper down on the table and grabs his spoon, “A merchant friend of mine tried visiting the town recently but they reject all outsiders. If you ask me something doesn’t sit right with me about that town.” No shit, the demon was their top fire mage and my parents were the ice ‘demons’. I give a subtle smile and choosing to close the conversation I leave off on the note, “Yeah, that’s pretty weird.”