The sun rises but everything seems just as dark. Surrounded by the dead in an otherwise lively forest; you have no more tears to shed, unable to look away from the corpse on your lap. 

The sound of boots marching arrive, but the bodies that fill them isn’t the Crown’s Army. The armor is too cobbled together, there’s no flag bearer, no formation in their numbers. Bandits. The group of rogues approaches, muttering to themselves about the scene of carnage.

“They killed a Drake?”

“That smell makes me sick.”

“Those are some nice boots!”

“What’s a kid doing here?”

Soon you’re surrounded, they all stop forming a circle around the epicenter of death. The bandits part to let someone walk through. With an air of authority, the leader approaches you. 

“Well, this isn’t something you see every day. A dead Drake and a little kid. Did you kill that monster, kid?” You don’t answer. “Didn’t think so. Alright, let’s get to it then before the Crown’s army arrives and ruins all the fun.” 

The bandits spread out to start looting the dead. One reaches for the boots of the corpse you’re holding; you push the hands away as best you can. 

“Hey! Kid, your friends here? They’re dead. And the dead don’t need boots. They aren’t walking anymore.” When the bandit reaches again, you grab ahold of your caretaker’s sword. You’re not much of a threat but the bandit backs up all the same. “Easy kid, don’t hurt yourself now.” You stand between the dead and the living, hoping the swarm of bandits is so easily deterred. None of them seem eager to fight a kid. The leader speaks up, 

“Looks like we have a noble guardian. We better pack up.” Laughter ripples throughout the group. “Don’t make me hurt you, kid. You look like you got enough hurt in you for a lifetime.” You get into the stance you learned only days ago and put on the bravest face you can manage. “Very well.” A long, chipped sword is drawn. You swing, miss and hit dirt. The sword is heavy in your hands as you lift again to strike nothing but air. 

“Your form needs work and you’re tired, have you eaten anything lately?” Anger spikes in you at the condescending tone. The sword gets close before meeting steel and getting flung from your hands. “Good swing. Get a better grip and this might be a fight.” You grab the sword and take the advice to heart. You say the incantation you’ve heard only twice and vines sprout from the ground to wrap around your hands. 

The bandits all gasp in awe and the leader smiles. “Seems the noble guardian is a Caster. Now, this is interesting.” You swing with abandon to be blocked every time. You get close to hitting flesh once and you’re met with a fist to your stomach. 

Crumbling to the ground in pain, your face hits the dirt hard. A boot placed on your back keeps you from getting up. 

“Stop, kid.” You struggle some more. Tears of frustration sting your eyes. “Enough.” More pressure pushes you down. “I know you’re hurting right now and you’re young so it’s hard to get perspective on this. But we didn’t do this. That Drake didn’t even do this.” The boot of the leader eases up. “The Crown did this. People, good people like your friends are sent to their deaths on the whims of one person who wouldn’t lift to help a finger to help them! That sound fair to you?” You shake your head. With your focus gone the vines have loosened on your hand. 

“No. It’s not. And because we disagree they label us outlaws, deserters, bandits. We aren’t willing to surrender our lives at the whim of a tyrant, they want us dead and gone. Your friends here? They obeyed and still died.” The boot is removed from your back. 

“When we die, it’ll be on our terms, and that’s good enough for this lot!” The group erupts with cheers. “So what do you say, kid? You want to live a slave? Or die free?” A hand is extended in offer. You reach for the sword and with a flatly said incantation the blade moves out of your reach. It floats in the air and comes to land in the leader's hand. 

“Us Casters should stick together after all. What do you say?” You stand up and take the hand extended in peace. “I’ll teach and give you everything you need to survive. And you can leave anytime you wish. Sound fair?” You nod. “Then let's get to work.” The group gets back to looting. A hand on your shoulder, kneeling down to be at eye level with you. “We’ll bury them. They deserve at least that. But we need their gear. You understand?” You nod. 

The bandits loot what can be salvaged and bury the dead in shallow graves. You stand over the one that matters most to you. 

“Anything you want to say?” the leader asks. You’re silent. “Come along kid, our hideout isn’t far from here.” 

After a long walk, you arrive at their hideout, a cave in the side of a small mountain. The inside is lit with torches and shows signs of having been lived in for years. You’re given a space to rest and you almost immediately collapse from exhaustion. 

When you wake your blanket covers you but it’s covered in something. 

“Those are scales from the Drake. It’ll keep you a bit warmer and it’s fireproof.” The voice of your latest caretaker explains. The blood-red scales weigh you down as you get up. “Seemed only right you get something from this...ordeal. Now come along, time for some Casting lessons.” You follow your new teacher deeper into the cave, far from anyone else. A carved hole above provides the only light source. 

“So, you know any other spells beside Nature’s Embrace?” You recite the other incantation you heard, mumbling over the words. A weak gust of wind forms and dies quickly. “Ahh, Tempest. First lesson about Casting: knowing the words is half the battle. The important thing is saying them with confidence, knowing what you want it to do.” Your teacher speaks an incantation and fire follows. “It helps if you name it. Something that holds meaning to you. Me? I name them after something I fear.” 

The same incantation is said added with, “House Fire.” The stream of fire that follows is bigger, hotter, more powerful. “We’re gonna practice with Tempest first until you have the words down pat.” 

Your lessons with Casting are as exhausting as the ones with the blade. Weeks turn to months to years and you’re still with the bandits, your new family. Your blanket no longer drags on the floor when it’s draped across your shoulders, serving more as armor these days. 

Resting after a raid, sounds of a fight rouse you from your sleep. Fights over trivial aren’t that uncommon. You’re about to lie back down when you hear someone yell, “IT’S THE CROWN’S ARMY!” You spring to your feet and sure enough, you find soldiers flooding into your home. 

The chaos of combat coalesces around you as your family fights to repel the invaders. Sword in hand, you’re about to engage with a small group of them when a blade flies through the air, slicing throats before turning to return to the Casters hand. 

“Make them pay!” You make good on the order, utilizing sword and spell to take out the Crown’s army. But for every three of theirs you cut down, one of yours gets slain. You and the other Caster move to push them out of the cave. Those who don't retreat are run through, charred, or slammed into the walls. You make it out of the cave to enter an ambush, soldiers kneel in formation with crossbows at the ready. “CAPE!” 

That’s enough for you to go on as you wrap your cape around you. 

“Fire!” A commander shouts and indeed fire does come. A shouted incantation and flames come spilling out of the Caster, washing harmlessly over the Drake scales covering you. Through the inferno, you can hear the anguished screams of soldiers who dared to kill your family. When the fire subsides you pull back your cape to see the burnt remains of the invaders. The Caster turns to face you, with three crossbow bolts where they shouldn’t be. 

“Guess I wasn’t fast enough.” A weak chuckle. You rush over. “Least I died fighting. That’s something they can’t take-” a cough spills blood. “That’s not good is it?” You can hear the fighting dying down in the cave. “Do me a favor, kid? Take care of whoever’s left.” The last of your family, too few and injured gather around as another Caster dies in your hands. 

“What are we gonna do now?” One of them asks. The answer burns into your mind immediately. You lay the Caster down and turn to face the remains of your family. 

“We’re going to destroy the crown,” you answer.