The blinding light of the sun lit up the sky. There was the sound of trees swaying in the wind, as leaves fell gently to the ground. I breathed in the smell of morning dew on the freshly cut grass. It was good to be alive.

  “Are you sure you are feeling well enough for this? Just yesterday we nearly lost you. You should rest for a few more days. We can wait until you are completely better,” my father said, resting a large hand on my shoulder.

  “I have been stuck in that horrible bed for years.” I pried myself free of my father’s grip and spun around happily. “I can finally do everything I always dreamed of. Now, are you going to go with me, or do I have to sneak out by myself?”

  “When did you become so willful. You are even worse than your mother.” My father sighed. “Fine, but if you get tired let me know and I will carry you back. I do not want you relapsing just for this.” My father took my hand, guiding me through the gate separating our home from the rest of the world.

  Buildings, made from clay brick and stone, lined either side of the small cobblestone road. Rather than being clumped together almost all of the buildings were spread out. Small gardens grew next to most of them, full of bright red tomatoes, cucumbers, and many other foods I could not recognize. Larger buildings made entirely of stone were scattered through the street. Brightly painted signs hung above the doors advertising their wares with pictures instead of words.

  “The town of Ortus and the surrounding valley is the territory of our Ventus family. Your mother and I earned it after twenty years of merits and service in the king's second battalion. Three hundred twenty-two people live here.” My father paused for a moment. “Three hundred twenty-three people live here. I forgot the carpenter family had a baby a few days ago… I was supposed to get a gift for the child. Your mother will not be happy with me.”

  A nearby woman hanging laundry waved at us. “Sir Ventus, I thought it was your wife’s day for patrols. She passed by here earlier.”

  “Good morning Parvelia. My daughter finally started feeling better recently so I brought her out to see the town.”

  “Oh! So, you are little Wren? I have heard so much about you from your parents.” The petite woman knelt down in front of me. “You are just adora… your eyes!” she stumbled back, looking at my father.

  My father glared at the woman. “My daughter is not undead. She gained an innate talent and her eye color changed. That is all.”

  “An innate talent?” she asked, taking furtive glances towards me, “How incredibly rare... Other than your wife, I have never met another person with an innate talent.” The woman gave my father a forced smile before quickly excusing herself.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  A gentle hand rested on my head. “Do not mind people like her,” my father said with a sigh, “Once people see that you are not a threat, they will not react like that.”

  I nodded, contemplating just how big of an influence my eyes would be in daily life. With a shrug, I disregarded it. Worst case, I will make a few extra enemies to burn when I get stronger.

  Moving through town, my father and I met many other people. Some of them reacted to my eyes, while others did not. It seemed like the doctor was right. Not everyone was familiar with my tale. Eventually, we stopped in front of a stone building covered in glass windows. Intricately carved pillars framed large wooden doors.

  “Wait here for a moment. I will be right back,” my father said, pushing open the doors.

  While waiting, I examined the many carving on the pillars. Scenes of a great battle and countless slain monsters decorated the building.

  “Seems the Church of The Myriad Realms is doing well for itself in my absence.”

  From one of the glass panels high above me, I heard a dull thud. I looked up to see a small bird collapse to the ground. Its small body twitched in the damp dirt before growing still.

   'It died. Just like that?'

   I felt my chest tighten as I looked at the poor creature. “It’s just a stupid bird. What are you getting so upset for?”

  Despite my best efforts I could not look away from the tiny creature. It was a completely unassuming bird, covered in brown feathers. Its only distinguishing feature was a white stripe on either side of its head, reminding me of bushy eyebrows.

  Tears welled up in my eyes. I pushed my hand through my hair in frustration. The two conflicting emotions battled inside me for a moment. “Fine! I will do it, but it will not be the same as what I did for you. It will still be dead.”

  A small wisp of green flame appeared on my fingertip. I gently touched the bird. The flames passed through its soft feathers without leaving a mark. Even though the flames vanished from my vision I could still feel them. They burned through the creature’s insides, replacing its blood with a green flame. With a thought from me, the tiny heart began to beat.

  With a startle flap of its wings, the bird jumped up in a fit of sporadic energy. From inside the bird, I could feel my flames stitching the injuries back together. Even cracked bone was welded and healed in seconds. A pale green light glowed in the bird’s little eyes.

  After a few more seconds of twitching, the small bird grew still. It turned to look at me. With a well-practiced motion, it bowed its head and lowered its body.

  A disorientating sensation washed over me as I saw the world through the bird’s small eyes. It was like wearing a pair of glasses that did not fit correctly. The world was blurred and distorted through its vision. After the wave of nausea passed, I knew I controlled the bird’s will completely.

  Looking down at the creature, I frowned. The pale green eyes were going to be a problem. I could remove them, but then my control over the creature would greatly diminish. With a resigned sigh, I knew there was no other way. The green began to fade from the creature’s eye.

  The bird stood up, no longer kneeling quietly. It looked around curiously. With a flutter of its wings, it leapt up and landed on my arm. Ignoring my scowl, the bird whistled happily.

  Knowing there was nothing more I could do; I petted the small bird's head gently. “I am going to name you Sylvie.”

  Now, I only have twelve more I can control.

  'Thank you.'