Snow. It billowed into the streets of Dewhurst, covering the azure lighting. The lamps chilled over in the freezing wind.

A child, wrapped in furs, trudged through the still bustling streets. He glanced around, his dull eyes waiting for something interesting. Clink. Clack. His chain shook in the wind. The lights flickered past, like fairies in the snow.

Approaching him, was a frozen lake. The trees, covered in white, swayed slightly. Ice. The lake shone under the moonlight. The grasses and shrubs covered in frost twinkled as he walked past. He sat down, taking in a deep breath, and sank into his thoughts. He watched as he became snow-draped. He sat there, unmoving, for quite sometime before something interrupted him.

“Hey… Are you stupid?” A shadow imposed over him. So much for relaxing. He opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times, before looking up.

“Are you listening? You could have frozen in the cold!” Light brown eyes shown through the falling snow. Her hair was neatly woven and cut to shoulder length. She frowned, before stomping off. She remarked,

“Fine! Go freeze in the cold Pela…”

Serene. It was so much better without her nosing around. But at the same time, whenever he opened his eyes, he only of one thing. Loneliness. It chilled him, how ironic. He sprung to his feet, taking in one last look before he was gone.

A wanderer traveled through the vast expanse of white. One step. Another. Slowly and steadily he made his way to his destination.

Pushing the door open, he was introduced to a world of shelves. They towered over him, filled to the brim with books. Leather, Rabbit hide and Sheepskin books lined the walls. Some were sprawled across the floor, some on windowsills, and others piled up directly on the floor.

The room, lit by candlelight, glowed a faint yellow. Many books lined the walls, stacked in neat rows, with colorful covers. He ventured through them, seemingly looking for something. He soon gazed upon a solitary figure. Long flowing hair draped down from her head, covering the books that she had stacked on the floor. She put her book away and looked him directly in the eye. She paused, before questioning,

“Son, did you go to the lake again?” He stood there, silently staring at her face. His eyes flickered as he turned around and walked to the back of the shelves. He entered a side room, where he had already prepared a couple of books, some candles, and some treats.

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Spring came, and the children in the town soon came out to play. They laughed, cried, and sang together. Pela, book in hand, briskly walked through the streets. He sighed, before flipping to the next page. Disregarding everything. He soon located his favorite spot, next to old willow. It was said that old willow had been planted years ago, by a famous florist. By her will, flora and fauna sprung out of the recesses of the earth and protected her. It was a famous monument in Dewhurst, and every child loved to play near it. Everyone believed that the tree was an emblem of their prosperity, for years to come.

“Ha! Who said you are gonna be an initiate mage? I bet you couldn’t even light a match,”

“HEY! If I told you I would, why would you doubt me? Once I become a time mage, I will really make you suffer!”

“Ugh… All they talk about is fighting and being stronger. I wish we could travel as merchants. The port in Dew isn’t too shabby after all…”

Pela frowned a bit, irritated from having to stop reading his book. He looked up, annoyed as he saw their bickering.

“Hey, Pela! Whatcha reading?” It was her again. She just had to bother him constantly, didn’t she?

“Is that about the... conventionality of sword magic?” She puffed her cheeks and pouted, “you can’t ignore me forever okay?”

He had indeed been reading about sword magic. It interested him deeply, and many historical figures were known to have used techniques using this in the past.

A brown haired brat walked up to them. He turned to her and said,

“Why do you even hang out with this loser? He doesn’t even do anything, how is he even alive?” He yanked Pela’s hair, before kneeing him in the face.

“What do you think you are doing... Stop it!” She tried to defend him, but the boy's goons held her back.

“Ha! Hey… Why don’t you speak back? Too afraid? You are worthless!” He continued thrashing him, before standing up and walking away. As he left, he smirked and taunted,

“Maybe if you had a father, you wouldn’t be such a weakling.”

After the group left, only two figures were left in the playground. One of them lay in the cold snow. The other was a quivering girl. She meekly looked at him, as if she did not know what to say.

Blood dripped from his forehead. It cascaded down his brown hair. He could taste the texture as it dribbled onto his lips. His hands were shaking, and his eyes shuddered as he writhed in pain. Blood splattered, tainted snow. His book, crimson, fell onto the pavement. A reminder of his weakness, of his struggle. He stood up, shaking as he lifted himself up.

"Are you ok?" She looked at him with downcast eyes. Worry clouded her vision as she moved to comfort him.

He shoved her back, before giving her a chilling glare. Book in tow, he limped off. She stood there, unmoving, and watched as he left her vision.

He sulked, as he looked up at the clouds in the sky, longing for more. It was a shame he couldn’t express it. He wandered aimlessly. His feet dragged alongside the gravel, dull steps echoed through the street as he returned home.