They called him the miracle boy. One night, when everyone had been sure that he would draw his last breath soon, he suddenly improved drastically. In the morning when everyone woke up, he wasn’t suffering from constant physical pain and breathing didn’t sound like it hurt him, either. Needless to say, Emil’s parents quickly hailed the town “doctor” (he hadn’t received any schooling; he was just a former servant to an actual doctor). And because of his lack of training, just like he couldn’t tell what was wrong with the boy, he wasn’t able to explain why he was feeling better. Thus, the villagers came to the conclusion that his revival was nothing short of a miracle.

And since the village was only comprised of fifty-some people, news of his improving healthy spread quickly. The tired community regained their vigor and swarmed their home, convinced that Emil would be able to bless them through their own misfortune.

They were all shooed away, though. There was no way that his mother or father would allow him to be overwhelmed by these strangers. Especially ones that had hardly offered up a single prayer while their child was suffering. No one had been doubtful at first, but as the years passed, everyone was convinced that their son was going to die. And they all moved on from it. Emil’s parents could understand this, but they weren’t so kind as to let these people benefit from their son’s good fortune. Rather, they preferred to keep him safe until his condition stabilized even more.

In their eyes, this was the best decision. After all, they knew the the truth behind these people’s intentions and the village itself. No one could be trusted here.

Their son was their most precious treasure, why would they let him be used in such a manner?

Thus, the doors to the Lund family home stayed tightly shut.

This was much to the dismay of the one in question, Emil.

See, Emil was still far from being in the same physical condition of the others that were his age, but it was leaps and bounds from where he had been a month ago. He could walk and lift up light weights, but anything more than that was a struggle. He had lost his ability to move properly and had stayed in a bed for almost two entire years while fighting an invisible illness, so the fact that he could stand was already amazing.

But now he wanted to go outside.

To him, the parents that were trying so hard to protect him from outside evils were the mean ones. He was just a child and did not understand in the slightest why they were forcing him to remain inside. He wanted to stretch his legs. He wanted to feel the wind on his face. He wanted to feel the sun heating his skin… He wanted to be one of those adventurers in the stories that his mother told him. How many people were waiting out there? How many friends could he make? The thought of meeting people other than his parents and that doctor was unbelievably exciting to him! For his entire life, he had only known these three people.

Even back when he was able to walk, Emil was too frail to go outside even for or a few moments. His immune system was practically nonexistent, meaning that the outdoors wreaked havoc on him the first time he was exposed to all of it. And the sun was too strong for his pale and delicate skin, so he had began to burn and almost passed out from the brightness, too. From that day on, he was locked inside.

And now, all Emil wanted was to be free of the dingy and small cottage that they lived in.

It smelled. It was boring. He hated it. He wanted to make friends. It was dark because the windows were always shut. That caused poor air circulation, making it hard to breathe inside. But that was still, to his parents, better than having people attempt to peep inside.

Therefore, for the past two days, he had been throwing the ultimate fit.

And during the afternoon of the third day, his father finally agreed to take Emil out on a short walk.

“There are rules,” his father warned, voice stern. Felix was an intelligent-looking man, who gave off a scholarly aura despite the fact that he could barely read or write. Still, if anyone saw him, they would’ve categorized him as a researcher. “Do not speak to anyone. Do not run off. Always hold either my hand or your mother’s.”

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Emil nodded his head, eager to dash out the doors.

His mother sighed. “Let’s get going. I want to be back inside before sunset.”

Felix looked up, concern evident. “Are you sure?”

She laughed lightly. “Of course not. But Emil wants to see the outdoors, doesn’t he?”

At this, Emil started nodding his head even more ferociously. “Want!”

His mother smiled and stroked his head lovingly. “Then, what are we waiting for?”

Emil, unable to hold it in any longer, raced to open the door. But his version of “racing” was still a slow, clumsy gait, so his father beat him to it within a few strides.

“What was the third rule?”

The young boy cowered, wrapping his tiny hand around his father’s. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking down.

The door creaked open.

For the first time in years, he took a step outside.

Emil gasped loudly as the sunlight spilled out onto his body, warming every inch of his pale skin. The gentle breeze stirred his gentle curls and carried with it the scent of nature. “I love it!” he cried, grabbing his mother’s skirt with his free hand. “Quickly, c’mon!”

His parents both let out helpless chuckles and allowed their son to start dragging them.

Actually, the three of them created a harmonious picture. As they walked down the main and only road of the village, they drew plenty of stares.

Neither his father or mother were outstandingly attractive, but their overall persona wasn’t bad either. He had inherited his mother’s auburn curls and freckles along with his father’s bright, hazel eyes. In fact, his previous skeletal appearance had ruined it before, but now that he was starting to fill out again, Emil was quite the adorable child. Granted, he was still considerably short and skinny for his age. His eyes that had been lackluster before were now shining with innocent curiosity and his wide lips were stretched out into humongous smile as he turned his head in every direction, taking in his surroundings. His pure happiness was nearly infectious.

Every moment was worth it! He had to take in everything while he could. He was full to the brim with energy. In his entire life, he had never felt this way. He had never known what the grass and dirt felt like under his shoes or the sensation of kicking a stray pebble.

But while Emil was having the time of his life, his parents only felt intense worry and fear.

By now, everyone was looking at them and murmuring, some even pointed directly at Emil. There was also a number of people that had exited their homes to catch a glimpse.

They were all thinking the same thing: that was him! That was the miracle child. Their greed and desperation was evident.

The reasons were simple:

In their current state, these people were destined to die an insignificant death. Their life was worthless. In this land dominated by magic--where the only ones that mattered were the strong--people who had zero talent for magic were no better than trash. Their status was even lower than a slave that had the capability to cast spells. Magicless people could not even operate basic technology or work entry-level jobs, meaning that they were forced to live pathetic, uncivilized lifestyles. The only way for them to ever survive was to form ragtag clusters like this village, where people with varying ranges of backgrounds would gather and co-exist. Whether they hailed from distinguished nobility or the worst sort of criminals, they had no other choice than to band together.

But the miracle boy, there was a chance that he had this desired, innate talent for magic. That meant that even though he came from a place like this, he could go to any city and be welcomed in just because he could learn how to use magic. These sorts of tales were uncommon, but not unheard of. Every so often, two pieces of trash were able to have a child that could use magic. But these kids were incredibly vulnerable. If used properly, a piece of their DNA could be used to siphon their power to someone else. This only worked because they weren’t developed or protected enough to defend against these measures.

Even just a lock of Emil’s hair or a drop of his blood could change their lives if this was true!

These people would sacrifice anything even if it meant they could only become a house servant. Even if it meant ultimately killing a child, they wouldn’t hesitate.

The only reason that they hadn’t done anything was because of Emil’s father! Before he had been kicked out of his family at age ten, he had stolen some of their magic tools. Tools like these didn’t require the user to be able to work them properly to still have some effect—blood would work in place of magic. That said, they were incredibly expensive and rare, so only those who could use magic had access them anyway.

Still, he had used these to create a defense around their cottage. Not only that, he and his wife carried these tools around with them to protect them from any sudden attack. If it was anyone else, they would be able to break such a half-baked force-field, but in this community, it was impregnable.

And so, amongst this pack of hungry wolves, the Lund family stood tall.