In the Box, keeping time is pointless and none tried. One usually waited to be let out and then discoverd how long the isolation had been. Yet, when Madame Fevre and her remaining lackeys finally unlocked the door and the rusted and warped hinges groaned as the portal swung open, I felt my in my gut that I had only been in the Box a short while. A day or two at most.

  Madame Fevre stood framed in the door and looked down at me while I blinked up at her, my eyes having trouble adjusting to the sudden burst of light.

  “Stand,” she ordered.

  I stood automatically, all of the demands I had been planning to lay before Madame Fevre melting away beneath her cold gaze. Without another word she turned and began walking back down the hallway, her cane rhythmically tapping upon the wooden floor like a hammer striking another nail into the my coffin. I could only meekly follow, the lackeys following a good distance behind me. I could hear them all muttering, their whispers furtive and nervous. I imagined they were still discussing what I had done to Corlo. I wanted to turn around and say something to them, but Madame Fevre frowned upon speaking without being spoken to first.

  We walked directly to Madame Fevre’s office. Normally, orphans were hardly ever allowed inside. Orphans did not want to go in there. It only happened to boys who committed the most serious of offenses. Now that I thought about it, boys who went into Madame Fevre’s office would often get sick and die not long after the experience. Perhaps the air inside was bad for children?

  I stumbled after Madame Fevre through her office door while the lackeys remained without. I looked around the room and tried not to stare. Madame Fevre’s office was nothing like the rest of the Orphanage. It was warm. There was a fireplace on one wall, over which hung a black iron tea kettle ready for use. The floor of the chamber was wall to wall red carpet that looked and smelled freshly cleaned. Even through the thin, too small shoes on my feet I could feel the carpet’s softness. I wanted so much to kick off my shoes and feel it with my bare toes.

  The walls were stained wood that didn’t in any way resemble the rotting, termite ridden old boards in our dormitory. Several pieces of art hung in gilded frames showing stern faced figures, some of whom resembled Madame Fevre. A long, wooden desk and a high backed red leather chair both sat near the fireplace in front of a double wide window. Madame Fevre walked around the desk and fell into the chair with a grunt. I was so busy taking in everything Madame Fevre’s office had that I initially failed to notice the stranger beside the door pouring himself a glass of some red liquid from a bottle. I took a step back when I finally saw him.

  The stranger was a stout, older man with long gray hair down to his shoulders, but completely bald on top his large head. He was dressed in a long brown coat that was dirty along the bottom hem and black boots with silver buckles. His ample waist strained at the white linen shirt tied with a red sash around his waist. He was obviously someone Madame Fevre didn’t care for. I noted the glare she was giving the man as he lifted the glass to his wide lips. He drained the glass in one long gulp and smacked his lips appreciatively.

  “Magda, you still have a few of your family’s fine selections left, I see. Couldn’t bear to sell them all, hmm?” The old man sighed and shook his head as he swirled the small amount of drink still in his glass. “Hard to remember much of this area used to be vineyards. ‘Withered Lands’, indeed. My, but it’s nice to see you always attempt some civilization way out here. A shame you couldn’t keep any of your family’s old staff. Whatever happened to that old butler you had? He was a funny fellow.”

  “Died. Years ago. This is the boy, Jevro.” Madame Fevre didn’t seem interested in bantering with the old man who grunted and barely glanced at me. I stood still, not knowing what else to do.

  “What’s wrong with his face? He a simpleton? He’s too young to have Awakened, Magda. You sure he didn’t just catch the other lad unawares with some lamp oil? Children are naturally violent, you know. Why I never had any. That I know of.”

  “No,” Madame Fevre’s face finally showed some emotion when her thick, black unibrow furrowed and her upper lip disappeared into her mouth. “He spat fire into the boy’s face. Burned him to char. Now the hallway upstairs smells like roast pig.”

  My stomach churned at the description. The gravity of what I had done was finally settling over me like a slab of stone. I killed someone. I burnt him alive. Jevro grunted again and eyed me lazily. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and reached into a black satchel he had slung over one of Madame Fevre’s extra chairs. Reaching in, he pulled out a strange looking device that resembled an odd pairing of spectacles with multiple lenses of varying sizes, colors and thicknesses mounted onto a leather cap.

  Jevro placed the cap upon his head and adjusted a few of the lenses so they fit snuggly over his beady eyes. Then, he stepped closer to stare me straight in the eye. I instinctively drew back. The glasses made the old man’s eyes look huge.

  “Identify,” Jevro said aloud. I froze, not sure what else to do as the old man looked me over. Finally, Jevro chuckled and removed the strange cap from his head.

  “A Pyromancer, eh? Interesting. Very interesting.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “That’s a rare one, isn’t it Jevro?” Madame Fevre’s voice sounded eager, giddy even. She leaned forward in her chair and stared at Jevro intently. She licked her lips and I swallowed nervously as I glanced between her and Jevro, who wore a thoughtful look as he scratched at the gray stubble upon his chin. Jevro then took his time to carefully put the identification device back into his satchel. He muttered and fussed with the bag’s clasps, but answered without looking up, which was timely as I had been anticipating seeing Madame Fevre explode from her obvious impatience.

  “Aye, it’s rarer than most. Not unheard of, however. There’s a famous one what lives in Kravlov. One was in Torscow too…at least until recently,” he muttered under his breath. He frowned and finally looked at Madame Fevre.

  “It’s the sort of Class the Acolytes place their Seal upon, if I’m not mistaken and I rarely am. So, he’ll only grow as far as the Temple allows.” Madame Fevre waved a hand before her face, uninterested in whatever Jevro was going on about.

  “How much? Don’t even think about stiffing me again either, Jevro. Rare is rare!”

  “Magda, how long have we known each other?” Jevro chuckled and held out his arms as if he would embrace Madame Fevre from across the room. She answered him with a scowl. “I took that one lad off your hands who Awakened with that Rot Druid Class and he died on the way to the Market, I’ll have you know!”

  “Once they leave the grounds they are your problem, Jevro! If he or any other boy I sell you dies in your care it has naught to do with me. Now…” Madame Fevre leaned back in her chair, which creaked in protest. She laid her cane upon the desk and she finally looked at me, acknowledging that I was in the room. A sneer made her lips curl.“Shall we discuss how much for a Pyromancer?”

  Davros stood silent through the exchange. They had both ignored the fact that he was even in the room once Jevro revealed his Class.

  Am I being adopted? By him? Why?

  While Madame Fevre and Jevro haggled over the price Davros could only stand mute, uncertain what to say or do. He had spent his life watching the time tick down to the Awakening and when it finally came the boy had been handed something he thought would change his life for the better. Instead, Davros felt like he was being sold like a pig to the butcher.

  Ugh, I don’t want to think about pigs anymore or how they smell when roasted.

  Madame Fevre and Jevro finally reached some sort of agreement after a few minutes and both seemed satisfied. Jevro crooked a finger in Davros’ direction and the boy stepped forward dazed, his thoughts chaotic. Madame Fevre accepted a hefty pouch of coins Jevro removed from his sack. Her eyes gleamed and she licked her lips.

  “I’ll send word if any of the rest of them Awaken. I’ve a few that are drawing close to the age.”

  “Always a pleasure, Magda. Always so lovely to see someone truly carin’ for the unfortunate youngins. I daresay you may one day be remembered as the Saint of Unfortunate Children.”

  “Eye forbid,” Madame Fevre muttered.

  I quietly followed Jevro out of Madame Fevre’s office, down the stairs and out the main doors of the Orphanage to where a line of four wagons waited. As always, the countryside was yellow and barren as far as the eye could see all the way up to the edge of the forest. I stood staring at it all for a moment, the old Orphanage as well. I’d been given no time to say goodbye to anyone. No stopping to grab any spare clothing, but that was no great thing. There were only two pairs of clothes and the one pair of shoes I now wore. Possessions always had a habit of being stolen or broken.

  “C’mere lad. Davros was it? Stick out yer arm.” Adults had told me what to do my whole life. I obediently put out my arm and Jevro fixed a metal bracelet over my wrist that sealed with a click. It was a simple band of iron about half an inch thick that wrapped tightly about my left wrist. Not too heavy, but still a noticeable weight. When the bracelet sealed there was a brief moment where some blue runes illuminated themselves on the metal’s surface then faded away. I felt strange. Diminished somehow. I held the bracelet up to my eyes and examined it with wonder. Then I received a new notification message.

  Manastop Bracelet is attempting to seal your abilities. Abilities cannot be equipped. Status cannot be accessed.

  Mana Reduced to: 0.

  “Alright my lad, up ye go. Into the wagon.” Jevro indicated the last wagon in the row, which was covered by a red tarp like the others. I was still distracted over what the notification meant and so silently climbed up into the wagon. Then, the stark realization that I was about to leave the only home I had ever known hit me like a thunderbolt. Yes, I wanted to leave, but it was happening so quickly! I whirled around and confronted Jevro just before he was about to duck under the tarp.

  “Sir, where are we going? Please, I didn’t mean to kill Corlo. What is to happen to me?”

  “Well lad, I’m glad you finally asked.” Jevro’s grin did not reach his eyes and he stepped forward to give me a shove through the open gate. I fell backward and stumbled into the wagon, nearly tripped over a figure who was lying on the floor in a pile of rags. There were others in the wagon too. There were a mixture of young men and a few women all of whom looked to be a little older than myself and each one wearing a bracelet identical to my own. Underneath the tarp, the wagon was revealed to hold a giant cage.

  I gaped open mouthed. What is this?

  “You see lad, it’s like this.” Jevro was inserting a key into the padlock on the cage door. He twisted it and there was an audible click.“You’ve Awakened, see? Very rare these days. The Age of Heroes is long gone, so what to do with the people who are still granted Classes by the Eye? Well, they need to be rounded up and put to work for the good of their betters, savvy?”

  Jevro tugged on the lock and nodded in satisfaction. Then, whistling through his teeth, started walking away. “I am merely a facilitator for your good fortune as I will be the one delivering you to your future place of employment. Musn’t become one of those Awakened who likes to run around causing trouble for the Nobs, hmm? That’s what the bracelet is for. No mana means no magic! Wrap yourself in some of the old cloth bits you see lyin’ about if ye get cold.”

  I looked around the wagon in dismay. The others were all shivering and huddled together for warmth, but I still didn’t feel the cold as the others were despite the new bracelet sealing away my mana. After another minute I heard Jevro bark some orders and with a lurch the wagons began to move. I found an open spot near a pile of rags that looked to have once been a blanket or perhaps some curtains and sat down. I leaned back against the wall of the wagon and closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. Panicking would solve nothing. It was an old lesson I had already learned many times over when confronted with a lackey’s merciless cudgel. Nobody tried to speak to me. Barely anyone even looked at me twice. My face undoubtedly putting them off any communication, I reasoned. With the tarp covering much of their cage I couldn’t see much of what was outside either.

  Feeling depressed and more than a little scared, I leaned forward, put my head between my legs and tried to accept my new reality. The only thing that had changed for me was that my Room of Reflection had grown a bit bigger and was filled with other occupants.

  From one Box to another. Whatever comes next, it can’t possibly be worse than this.