"Oh Eric, enough of this whining, it's just a scrape!" My mother Sarah assured, washing the wound and spraying antiseptic to prevent infection. I cried like a whiney brat, grabbing at my knee, placing pressure as to try to prevent the pain. Sarah placed a hand on my cheek and sighed deeply, exasperated from my freakout. "Eric, it won't always be like this, you'll need to handle pain at some point. It is a valuable lesson." She explained. "Raise your head." She instructed, her eyes meeting mine.

  "It hurts!" My younger self complained, rubbing the wound passively.

  "There will be plenty more hurt than a scrape." She laughed, placing a hand on my cheek and pecking my forehead. "Rememeber. . . Er-"

  "-Phen!" I was struck awake by Iris who shook me, before having her hand slapped away by Lorea who gave her a stern frown. The room was illuminated with a flickering flame; it was late in the night. At my side was Areia, Aphen's mother. She whispered prayers softly, taking notice of my open eyes soon after. I felt a burn in my leg, I lifted myself weakly and reached down, touching nothing but a stump and a knee.

  "What. . . No, no, no. . ." I grasped at the leg of this child, one who I had harmed so brutally, alongside the family which stayed beside him. I wept quietly, Areia placed a hand over my back. How could this happen? Was there no cure to dismemberment, the severing of a leg? Was this all that magic could do? I thought on the words my mother once spoke, the remembrance of the dream washing over me like a wave of watery discomfort.

  This wasn't my body, I caused it so much trouble, so much strain. I looked beside me to see the mauled victim of the beast I agreed to face, I shouldn't have been so easily pressured. Jorael lay asleep, breathing heavily, his face battered, his arm snipped from his shoulder like a simple weed behind a house.

  I was selfish, so selfish. To be so unreasonable, a second chance, and yet I was never grateful, I never did what I could to at least make it right. My heart shattered at the sight of the boy, his face wet from sweat. My head dipped to face my hands, blood stained them, never cleaned by Lorea. What was the point?

  "Apologies, family of Aphen, but I'll need a moment with him." Areia nodded curtly, grabbing ahold of Iris and pulling her out of the room unsteadily, her footsteps no longer holding elegant grace, but instead droopy thuds. I eyed Lorea, her face sunken from disappointment. "I could not help you to a great degree, nor can I do anything else." Her forefinger tapped gently at the bedside where she sat.

  "Then what can you do?" I asked, hope intertwining with dread in this question, expectancy shattered, though a piece still hung loosely by a metaphorical thread.

  "In the region of Elsib, where we are, is a city by the name of Vycaero. I don't know if you'd be able, possibly you will be, I honestly doubt it though. . . You can go there, find a bodyshaper as we call them, advanced healers with the ability to regrow parts of our bodies, probably even legs." She inhaled sharply, before continuing. "It is expensive, it could take two days to get there, over the mountain pass past the forest. The road can be found fairly easily."

  "How much for two limbs?" I glanced to Jorael briefly, her eyes settling on his arm.

  "Possibly three Astudus, our equivalent of gold coins. . . Each." I huffed, though if there was no other way, I surely had to go, right? A way to gather myself, rebuild the start that I have been given, and hopefully to rebuild the future Jorael deserves.

  "I will go." I spoke without hesitation.

  "You'll need the help of your family, who can't afford it." She dismissed, leaving me to frown.

  "Then I'll make my own coin, I am an. . . Iremar of business."

  "Mr. Kiren wants the same I believe, coin to save his child's arm. It isn't that easy, it never was." She tried, attempting to convince me that it wasn't the best idea. I wasn't going to live a cripple though, I wasn't going to be the odd one out, and I certainly wasn't letting a child such as Jorael be held in the same esteem, or lack thereof.

  "Then maybe he'd take me." I said solemnly, attempting to convince myself, though it was a narrow thought. I only met him hours ago; he surely didn't care all that much for me. My eyes rested on the staff Lorea bore in her hand. I felt the power of it, as if it were connected to me, perhaps from the healing. I wondered how magic worked, was it inside everyone? Maybe if it were inside me, I could learn. I never thought of that, me a mage. I chuckled aloud at the thought, leaving Lorea to stare at me. "I have to try."

  "When did you get overcome with motivation?"

  "Possibly when I nearly had my life stripped away from me." I scoffed in humor. I had lost my life, yet I just went on like it never happened and look where it got me.

  "Yes, that might change people." She smiled tightly, placing a hand on my leg, the one that was whole. "Do what you must, it is your life, us Iremar are greater than the lesser among Irith." I pushed past the possibly racist remark and nodded. "Good luck, child." She raised herself from her seated position and went back to watching over Jorael. There was an overarching silence that took the room, soon broken by the creaking of a door and the entry of Kiren, and soon after Areia and Iris.

  "How is my boy? How is he?" Kiren asked, donning new robes, and presumably healed. Lorea eyed him with patience and motioned over for a seat at the bedside. There was silent chatter between the two, as Iris solely focused on me.

  "Are you in pain?" She asked with a slightly condescending air, even during this moment she couldn't push aside her commonly annoying tone.

  "More than enough listening to you." I mumbled, she groaned, gaining a glare from Areia.

  "Dear, I am sorry. . . I should've never let you go, I will make right for this." Areia assured, her eyes watery. I felt impatient with this predicament, I felt guilty, and I was making them feel guilty.

  "You don't need to; I will do it myself." I shifted my head to Kiren, resolving the matter in my mind in mere seconds. "I hear you will be going to Vycaero, let me join you. I will pay for myself, even pitch in for Jorael if I can. I won't be a struggle, and I will listen well." Kiren looked at me, though what I didn't expect was a look of hate, mild yet still there, yet I understood why.

  "You make proposals. . . You who nearly killed my boy." He presumably didn't know who dragged who, though I could understand the sentiment that it wasn't just his fault either way, I was in the forefront with him. Areia glared dangerously at him, leaving him to look down. "Find your own way, your father might take you." Silence overtook the night, and the sounds of wind and chirping birds overtook the day.

  A sort of wooden wheelchair was made to supplement for my inability to walk, Qorel pushed me around, telling me about stories of his childhood, which weren't very interesting to be entirely honest.

  "And when your grandmother slapped me silly, I cried for an entire hour, but I didn't let it stop me either. I grabbed that bottle of human wine and gulped it whole!" He laughed briefly, noticing my unfocused stare at a stream that resided beside the village. I leaned down and grabbed a rock, tossing it in. "You don't care much, do you? I understand why." He murmured; hand wrapped around the handle.

  "Not really." I sighed, continuing. "I want to go to Vycaero, please."

  "You've asked this plenty of times in the last few days, I know you want to go, it is dangerous though. I don't know if you'd make it." Qorel explained ashamedly.

  "Jorael is going there, I'm sure they'll be fine." I pressured.

  "Yes, well his father has magical amplification, I have a bow." He chuckled.

  "What's that?"

  "Boy. . . Sometimes I forget how much you've been through. It shouldn't have been so." Qorel's shoulders sagged, before rising again shortly.

  "Just answer." I demanded, he conceded.

  "Magical amplification is self-explanatory, it is the amplification of physical traits and bodily functions. You could amplify your muscles, your strength, your speed, your reflexes, all sorts of things. It is a very difficult skill to learned, the greatest fighters are adept with it." I listened intently, bewildered by the potential, the possibility. If so many spells exist, I wondered how hard it was to create new ones.

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  "Once I get my leg back, I'll surely try to learn it." I remarked hopefully, though Qorel didn't seem to share the sentiment.

  "Of course you will." He nodded ever so doubtfully, returning to pushing me across the stream. With this our way back to the house was mostly silent, the subtle breeze pushing into my pale blonde hair, a small red bird flew overhead, swerving down and perching atop a lantern post. My eyes bore into a chicken which strode along the road, pecking at the gravel stupidly. "Talk to your uncle." Qoren said guiltily, approaching the door. "I need to care for your sister, though your uncle may take you."

  I grinned at this, laughing. "Thank you!"

  "Don't thank me yet, he might say no."

  "I know." I assured. The large rolling wheels stopped on the step up, Qoren lifted me and helped me into the home.

  "We're back!" Qoren shouted, a rumbling voice soon returning to him.

  "GOOD! Tired of waiting for you two fat piggies." Ramrae approached me, extending an arm for support. "How was the midday rolling?" Ramrae mocked, though this time I was not amused. "Oh, come now, everything's fine you dear sweet baby who must be pampered unconditionally!" He mocked further, a scoff coming from me.

  "How's it, begging for attention and all?"

  "Oh! He's got spirit now, huh?" Ramrae tittered, pulling me over to the dining table where a chair was already pulled out. "All the girls are out, so, why don't we have some fun?"

  "Let me guess, a game of arguing, a test of bickering, and a mighty display of disrespect." Ramrae nodded in approval at my words, Qoren smiling off to the side.

  "You've got it right, which one first?" Ramrae joked, smacking a hand on his lap. I held my hands on the table, clasped together. Ramrae noticed my serious expression and raised a brow immediately. "What is it?" I unclasped my hands and adjusted my robes.

  "I wondered if you could take me to the city." I kept it simple, I didn't have much energy to beg, especially not to this oaf.

  "Hm. . . For that leg, I've heard you whining like a dog about it." He sipped from a cup, swishing the water around in his mouth before swallowing. "How much you want it?" I perked up immediately at this question, laughing from shock that he was continuing the conversation.

  "A lot! I'd give anything for it."

  "Even an arm?" Ramrae asked jokingly.

  "A lot." I regressed, causing him to burst into a fit of laughs, before settling down.

  "Nephew, you're my blood. You're my brother's son; I'd gladly give you the chance." My face lit up immediately, though he raised a hand. "The chance, I'd only be willing to give you a year to gather the coin, I'll help as much I can, not like it's much though. You fail in this year, and I'll be sure to mock you forever." This didn't change my reaction, a year was surely enough time. Qoren eyed him with a look of astonishment, though nonetheless he nodded to me, granting me permission.

  "Thank you."

  "Well, your aunt will hate me, who cares though? A year, that's nothing! She'll learn to forgive soon enough." He smacked his cup down on a table, a small bit of water flying out from it onto the table.

  "She isn't coming?" I asked, a bit surprised.

  "No, no. I'm a city person anyways, don't worry, you're doing me a favor! It's a journey worth the cost." I felt as though he wanted to just leave the family for a bit, which I didn't know if I should laugh at it or punch him in his face. Ramrae motioned to me, I raised a hand, and he took it. "Don't you dare call me a bad uncle again, eh?"

  "Don't think I have; you're just an asshole." He chuckled softly, raising himself from his chair as he set my hand down.

  "Qoren, get the boy some food, we'll be off tomorrow." Ramrae waved him off, his face was bright, he seemed excited, something that wasn't common for him. I lifted my head to face him, expressing my confusion.

  "Tomorrow? Shouldn't we prepare a bit longer?"

  "Live in the moment boy!" He approached, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. "How many times can you say you'll see a city? How many times will you smell the calming scent of alcohol in an inn? how many times will you be on the road, facing the wilderness beyond?" I was about to speak, though he raised a finger to shush me and continued. "Silence is sometimes better than words, quite the thing for me to say huh? Listen boy, there may be a future where you truly cherish this time, there may be a day where you're so down that you wonder. . . Was it so bad? An entire world is out there, an entire way of living ripe for the taking, and you want to wait and prepare? Prepare for what, a year long journey? Haven't you had enough preparing?" I thought on this, I wanted to say that I'd see it plenty once I got my leg back, though, would I?

  I went to bed with the thought of the chat on my mind, an entire world, I'd constantly thought how vast it could be, though I never indulged in its vastness. Sure, I'd been here for only a week or so, though what had I done here? Lost a leg? I truly had enough of waiting around until the world came to me, I did it in my old life. Waiting for the checks that my father gifted me like shiny gems, though in this world I really could have shiny gems that weren't gifted but earned. Where was my sense of adventure, where was my dignity and graciousness to this wondrous world? One strike of danger and I pulled myself out, I was so excited to move on when I first woke with the stub that was my leg. . . Though it had dwindled so quickly, a flame that perished at the mere word of no.

  No, no, no. . . What was no? A declination of something I wanted, I have had enough of declination, I want to feel this feeling always, the sense of freedom and excitement, the hope that fills my wounded heart. I don't want, no, I need. I yearn for this, I've whined and crowed on about what might happen, but what about what will happen? What about the things that I can make happen? There is no mountain that can halt my trek, no terrible ache that can break my steadfast approach to what I've wanted.

  I used to play games, my father used to teach me how to play all kinds of fantasy games, I remember how it felt to be someone new, to build yourself from the start. Sure, I was now at rock bottom, and I'd go through real pain, realer than my life prior. . . Though what's the point if you don't at least try? When did I ever try? I got myself nearly killed by a bear, but did I ever try?

  "Get your last preparations in, kid. Breathe in and out, in and out." Ramrae teased, I followed it, nonetheless. Qoren, Areia, Iris, and finally Heria met us outside to give their goodbyes, Heria made sure to glare at Ramrae who seemed as proud as could be.

  "I don't know about this, but your uncle was a Sunspear no matter, I am sure you'll be safe. Goodbye, Aphen." Areia placed a hand on my cheek, caressing it mindlessly. She gathered herself and smiled. I never knew Ramrae was a Sunspear, though surely, I'd question him on the road.

  "Bye brother, if you come back whole, we can play again." She smiled, hopeful for that future, as was I.

  "Son, be safe." Qoren smiled, waving slowly, his eyes a bit watery.

  "What he said, and if your uncle annoys you too much, piss in his boots as a lesson." Heria advised, forcing a soft laugh from me. I wasn't much of a boot-pisser, though I'd certainly have to consider it when it came to Ramrae.

  "Goodbye everyone!" Ramrae waved, I finalized the conversation in a more silent manner.

  "Goodbye." I nodded, surprisingly my own eyes watered briefly, I wiped them, feeling the wetness of tears. Before I could be seen crying, Ramrae pushed the wheelchair off towards our village's road. I'm pretty sure Qoren saw and gave a teary wink. The time spent here had been minimal and mild, though it was because they were family, and they acknowledged the importance of time together differently due to their own perceptions of time. I am sure this was a simple blink of an eye for them. "How do we get to the city? A wheelchair won't cut it."

  "What about a wagon?" Ramrae grinned, pushing me towards a covered and roofed wagon, a man sat at the front. I saw Ramrae toss a coin, a silver coin, the one that had surely been paid for the hunt. I thought back on it, the hunt. This was a bad time, though I needed answers.

  "Could we wait an hour or so? I need to be somewhere first." Ramrae scoffed, though the wagon driver nodded. I assumed he got the wagon from the Representative's own, considering how fast he was to arrive. I had heard plenty of the Representatives travels around the world, perhaps this village would be in a better state if he put as much dedication in raising the village than traveling.

  "I can meet you on the road." The driver assured pleasantly.

  "Fine, where to?" Ramrae inquired skeptically.

  "The forest." The trek there was loud, Ramrae had made sure to question me a load, though I never answered. We strode through the area, Ramrae handed me a dagger, he himself had a sword at his waist. The bristles of grass swayed gently against the pressure of wind, the branches amidst the trees dropped and sagged slightly, and the shrubbery seemed as vibrant as it ever was with its golden-brown coloring.

  "Up ahead." I motioned, once we pushed forward, the shabby hut came into view, and outside sat the two elves, husband and wife. Ramrae looked at me oddly.

  "Friends of yours?"

  "Not that I know of." I said offhandedly, the push continued, I noticed a smile rise on her face as she looked blanky in our direction.

  "Hunter, of what do I owe the honor to the slayer of the beast?" She inquired, her husband leaning ever-so close as to listen. Such a title was not worth being placed on me, the one who did the least.

  "You are magical, I know it to be true. You do not see with your eyes, but with your heart and soul." I explained, she shed light onto my assumptions with a nod.

  "I also see fates, an ancient tradition among the high, one lost to the regression of our society."

  "Will you tell my own?" The woman nodded, motioning me over. Ramrae skeptically followed my nod, pushing me closer. The woman took my hand into her own.

  "It is magic of the blood, are you willing to shed blood to simply see into what can be?" She questioned, her voice croaky.

  "I am willing to shed for what will be." I extended my palm. "How much?"

  "This will do." She assured, Ramrae shifted uncomfortably, reaching for his sword's handle, though I shook my head. The woman retrieved a knife, her husband hovering a bowl beneath my hand. I shifted my hand sideways, she cut slowly, letting the blood dribble and drop. To my surprise, she did not cast some sort of spell, but instead took the bowl into her hands and drank it, wiping her mouth, her lips stained with red.

  "Well?" I asked.

  "Nothing." She shook her head. "Everyone has a future, yet yours does not exist. You are fateless." I stared for a moment, bewildered by these words. Did it mean I was to die? No, surely that'd be shown to her. Was it all a fib? A scam? It didn't matter; all I could hope is I didn't sell my soul for zero results. "You should go, boy. You may be without fate, though you still have life. Whatever it means, you must maintain hope."

  "Final question. . . You said I did not have the heart of an Iremar, of what heart do I have?" Ramrae raised a brow, and her husband turned to her, curious as well.

  "Nothing Emar, nor beast, nor man." My eyes focused on her, nothing man. I wasn't human anymore, I wasn't anything. I was without fate, I was without race, I was simply there, an inconsistency in this world. With this, we left, with Ramrae confused as ever, though I wouldn't budge on my privacy, I was too busy, too many thoughts swirling through my head like a gleaming vortex.

  What did it mean?