The sky was dark, and the shadow of a man stood upon a mountainous pile of rotting bodies, white mask over his face. A cross on the forehead and tear under the right eye. Familiars and magics spread out behind him like a pair of wings spanning entire cities, but then a bright and gold portal appeared under him, a godly hand reached out, pulling him in, and ripping him away from everything.

Rayeull woke up. A nightmare. His breathing was heavy. His hands and face were damp with sweat, and there was a blanket wrapped around him. His eyelids forcefully glued themselves together when a lantern was lit in front of him. “Ah! What are-”

He could barely make out Frell, just his auburn hair and green eyes that glowed behind the lantern, who shushed him, and waved as a motion for him to follow. Rayeull pried his eyes open as far as he could, crawling into a slow walk behind Frell.

They walked over the bodies of people ranging from the snoring young to the almost lifeless elderly. Some had familiars like the common dogs and cats sleeping by their side, who weren't drafted for a multiple of reasons, like health or they kept their familiar secret. Only one person had their magic out, a poison shawbird. Magics were hard to come by, and had to be conjured consciously once tamed.

There was one old, slightly tubby man slumped at the left of the stairs, reading a book in mature, dim candlelight which made his pale face shine. He had a very large, buff arctic wolf with well-kempt white fur. They also noticed that from the front he had an eyepatch on the left eye. He took notice of the boys, sitting up and whispering “What are you two up to, eh?”

“Just leaving for the night, sir.” whispered back Frell

“Alright, go ahead. Don’t make any trouble.” He chuckled, and fell back into reading his book.

They were tired and clumsily heaved themselves up the creaky stairs as quietly as they could, and entered onto the deck overhead. It was chilly, and the bitter, crisp wind felt like a slap on the cheek, finally waking them up. Rayeull tightened his blanket around him, hoping to feel a better semblance of warmth.

Two of the bigger familiars were resting on top of the ship, a brown bear and somebody’s growing ground sloth. The bigger the familiars, the harder they are to tame and keep, and usually have their own spaces in towns and cities, but usually not on boats or in villages.

It was also now that Rayeull saw his father conversing with a crew member, and that they were approaching them. As they reached their father, Rayeull saw the crew member was a fit, young man with a peg on his right leg. As he turned towards them, the other half of his face came into view as a scarred and burnt convolution of skin and meat. His voice was hoarse, and his words came out as shouts.

“HEY BOYS! WE-” Frell jumped a little at his shouts. The man, realising he was being loud, continued a little more cautiously;

“My bad, didn’t mean to shout. We’re dropping you off here, as your father requested. It should be fine to return to the village at midnight, but if not you can find us at the village Fhillmoore, you know where that is?”

“Yes, sir. It’s uh...” Frell took out his compass. “North-east-ish?”

“Yeah, abouts there. We should still be aboard this ship, if not, find us at Unis’s Dressmakers. You know the phrase.”

“Sorry, can I have some water before I go?” Rayeull abruptly butted in, and the crew member gestured for Rayeull to follow.

He lead him over to a water barrel, and filled up a tankard for him before handing it over. He took a sip before curiously looking up at his half-face.

"How did that happen?"

The crew member was a little surprised at the straightforwardness of the young boy, but he reluctantly answered. "Long story. Was part of a gang of sorts. One day we ran into the wrong bunch. It started with a bang, and ended with half of my face, and being left to die. My ears are all messed up too, so my bad if I'm shoutin' at ya. Doesn't matter much anyways, my right eye was already gone. Was a tradition of sorts."

"You took your eye because of tradition?"

"Yep. I used to be a very traditionaled man. But tradition don't mean anything to me anymore."

"I think tradition means a lot to my family…" He turned over and glared at his brother, talking with his father, with a hint of love, and a hint of hate in his eyes. "They want me to keep on their tradition."

The man noticed the look in his eyes. "And what do you want?"

"I want to own a familiar, and have my own life." His stare turned down to his feet.

"Then do it." said the crewman, trying to look him in the eyes. 

Rayeull chuckled. "Yeah? and how am I of ALL people going to get a familiar?"

"Hmm. Stay here."

The crew member left down the stairs for about two minutes, and came back up with a book. "Try this." he said, handing it over to him. Rayeull was astonished at the humongous, leatherbound book in front of him. In big, gold letters it pronounced: "FAR S. LIEGER'S GUIDE TO MAGICA," There was an array of colours on the front, with resembling magics in blues, purples and greens.

"Woah. Are you sure?" Asked Rayeull, still staring starstruck at the book.

"It's my pleasure." He said with a half-smile

"Won't the Singing Three be mad if I take this?"

"You don't know?"

Rayeull looked into his eyes with contained excitement. "Don't tell me you're-"

"Yes, I'm Blunderwell, one of the Singing Three."

"Wow, that's awesome! I'd like to be that important one day. What about the other two?"

He smiled, "Yes, they're here too."

"But who are they?"

"It's not much secret but that's for them to say. You really should get going now."

"You're right." He looked down at the book and back up again, feeling a proud sense of progression in his life is about to come.