“Tonight, we kill death.” The necromancer rocked the baby in her arms. “And you will help us do it.”

  The mage knelt on a disk of stark white stone in a circle of obelisks shrouded in deepest black, bonfires burning at their peaks. Shapes writhed in the flames—whispers hissing—a sickly-sweet stench drifting from the smoke.

  Full moons—one white and one black—watched from among the stars.

  “We must hurry!” cried another voice.

  Three hooded assistants rushed between the obelisks, drawing symbols in grave soil with their bone-staves. The necromancer’s eyes focused on the shadows reaching toward the middle of the circle.

  None quite touched it.

  She conjured a mental image, sculpting its form.

  Power flowed from every corner of her body, waiting, poised at her lips.

  She spat a single word. “Higher.”

  Wind hissed like a giant’s breath being drawn.

  Bonfires erupted as the obelisks’ rippling shadows lengthened, grasping the necromancer’s cloak.

  The sleeping babe stirred in her arms, waking with an abrupt gasp.

  Large eyes met the necromancer’s, the infant began to scream.

  “Quiet the child!” a hooded assistant shouted. “If we are discovered—”

  “Calm!” The necromancer turned, silencing the outburst. “I will begin the ancient words.”

  Shadows deepened.

  Summer air turned frigid.

  “I call on the three pillars of power. First, The Gift: used to command creation with a single word or phrase. The Gift granted from the Ascended Deities to mortal kind in return for what we lost.”

  Whispers came from the darkness.

  Shapes formed in the fires.

  “Life Enforcment, the power to cultivate the energies of nature, strengthening the body with the spiritual blood of the earth.”

  The infant screamed louder.

  With a gentle finger, the spellcaster caressed his cheek.

  “Third, the forbidden pillar; the path of Divine Breath. The power to cultivate the energies of the Ascended Deities and more, making their strength one’s own, shedding mortality against the Gods’ will.”

  Like slithering snakes, the shadows churned, lifting both screaming child and mage into the air. Black symbols on white stone shimmered. The infant’s shadow congealed, dripping down in blots of darkness, staining the disk below.

  The necromancer drew out an orb; within it, a tiny light glowed like the last ember of a fire long snuffed.

  "Now, I call upon the old pillars of power, used by our ancestors before the Age of Wolves. For one cannot kill death without the old ways.”

  She looked at those outside the circle. “We will only have one chance!”

  The fires climbed higher.

  Her apprentices began chanting frantically.

  The necromancer looked down at the screaming babe. “Quite the lungs you have there, little one, I suppose that would be the blood of giants flowing through your veins.” She paused, caressing his forehead. “May your mother forgive me. Together, my young Matthias, we will defeat death. There might be consequences to you—whether we succeed or fail—but I hope they are kind ones.”

  The necromancer raised the orb.

  “We could all use more kindness in this world.”

  The orb exploded.

  The child shrieked, his shadow running like candle wax.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” an apprentice cried.

  The fires flared.

  A voice screamed in agony.

  All chanting died.

  The infant’s breath stopped.

  “It has to work this time.” Matthias Stonebreaker clutched the censer close to his chest, shielding it from the rain. “It just has to.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring he was alone; a cool mist lay in the forest, transforming trees into shadows towering over him. They swayed in the low wind though nothing else moved, the only sounds to be heard were the creaking of branches and the light hiss of an early summer drizzle.

  Matthias’ boots squelched in the mud some distance from a little mountain road as he crouched behind a copse of trees and pulled the hood of his cloak low, covering his golden blonde hair.

  With thick fingers, he placed the censer on a stump before him and raised the bottom of his cloak to shield it.

  Within the brass vessel, a mixture of dried herbs and seeds were piled around an oil-soaked wick, ready to be lit with a single spark. If only he hadn’t forgotten his flint and tinder back at the training grounds.

  He could have gone back for them, but they would be there by now, and he didn’t need them ruining today, of all days.

  Like they ruined every other day.

  “It has to work this time. I know I can use The Gift.” Matthias adjusted the wooden sword and iron dagger on his belt. He touched a heavy pouch hanging at his waist. “Dagma can do it. Mother can do it. So, I can do it. I just haven’t been able to yet.”

  Taking a deep breath, he focused on the censer, his will gathering.

  ‘Remember what you were taught. It is only fire,’ he told himself. Concentrating, he conjured a mental image, sculpting its form. ‘Forget past failures. You can do this. You will do this. It is only fire, and you are filled with life. You’re a mortal, bearing The Gift of the Ascended.’

  He thought he felt power flow from every corner of his body, waiting, poised at his lips.

  ‘It is only fire, what can it do but obey?’

  He uttered one word. “Burn.”

  This would be it.

  The command would reverberate with something beyond sound, something that only he and the flames could hear. Within the censer, the fire would leap to life, the fragrant smoke rising into the air.

  After fourteen years of life, he would finally awaken The Gift.

  ‘Now I’ll show Dagma, mother, Sur Friya and even father and everyone else what I can do!’ he’d shout.

  At least, that’s what he imagined would happen.

  In reality, the censer remained cold and dead. There was no power in his word.

  “Come on,” he growled. “I really need this right now. I really need it to—”

  “Burn.”

  Flames burst from the censer, burning oil splattering on mud, ugly black smoke coughing through the air.

  “Wha—” Matthias fell back, skull slamming into a tree trunk. Pain exploded through the back of his head, stars exploded in his eyes, and laughter exploded from the road behind him.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I told you there was vermin in there, Petric! You should believe your cousin!” a familiar voice cackled through the misty woods.

  Matthias’ heart dropped.

  “No! Not them!” he hissed, crawling back to the censer. The herbs were meant to burn with a low flame to bring out their healing properties, making them ready for a second lighting after an hour of low heat.

  With the way they were smoking now, though—

  “No! They’re ruined!” he shouted.

  The cackling grew louder.

  Matthias slowly turned, setting his jaw, quickly hiding the heavy pouch beneath his cloak.

  Three figures emerged from the mist; two were familiar.

  Siegfried’s bulging eyes were scrunched shut as he laughed, holding his stomach and slapping his knee. The second boy was wide in both shoulder and belly, a surprised—but increasingly nasty—grin spreading across his face.

  Then there was the third, the one Matthias wanted to see least; Kari, brown-haired like his nasty father, narrow of hip and wide of shoulder. He gave a toothy grin.

  “Hello, Matthias!” Kari placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, sauntering forward.

  Matthias turned back to the censer, grabbing his waterskin.

  “Oh, don’t bother.” Siegfried strolled around him. “Those flames won’t go out until Petric tells them to. I figured you’d need to know that since, you know, you can’t use The Gift and all.”

  Matthias ignored him. ‘Remember what Sur Friya said: use the Way of Stone. Be the stone. Weather them.’ He poured water on the censer. There was a hiss of steam. The fire kept burning.

  His grip tightened on the waterskin. “Shouldn’t you be at the training grounds?”

  “Matthias Stonebreaker, this is my cousin, Petric,” Siegfried clapped the unfamiliar boy on the shoulder. “He’ll be staying at Marquess Eklund’s as a squire. He wanted to meet our friends, so we took a little detour before training. We have time, so why don’t you introduce yourself?”

  Matthias scoffed. “I don’t remember you being my friend.” His eyes flicked up to the unfamiliar one. He looked to be about sixteen, the same age as the other two.

  Kari smiled. “Don’t be like that. We’re charitable enough to be friends with even the likes of you. Guess what Petric, Matthias can’t use the Gift or Life Enforcement!”

  Petric grimaced. “Bad break. That failing is normal for peasants, but isn’t your father Archlord Eaderic?”

  “His father sundered his marriage to Matthias’ mother because of his sons’ failings,” Kari explained with a broad grin. “Now he’s got a new wife and better children, while our friend here, and most of his family are barely little more than peasants. They don’t even have their father’s name anymore. His sister doesn’t deserve the same treatment but, what can one do?”

  “I wouldn’t want sons like that,” Siegfried agreed, bobbing his head up and down.

  Matthias forced down a retort. ‘Let the storm pass. You don’t want a beating.’

  He looked back at the herbs.

  Even the censer had been blackened now.

  Slowly, he stood.

  Petric continued smiling as he rose.

  His smile slowly faded as Matthias kept rising.

  He took a step back when the younger boy reached his full height, a head taller than the three older boys watching him. Broader of shoulder as well.

  “By Amon Koth’s ferry!” Petric swore. “You didn’t tell me he was greatfolk!”

  Matthias stared down at him.

  “Don’t worry,” Siegfried chuckled. “Kari and I have both been using Life Enforcement for years. We could snap him in two.”

  “Nearly did,” Kari added. “And besides, you’ve got The Gift. To warriors like us, he’s nothing more than a great, big target. Isn’t that right, Matthias?”

  Without warning, his hand shot up.

  The slap cracked across Matthias’ face like the blow from a hammer. His head whipped to the side, pain blasting through his jaw as he stumbled back. The world spun, but he made no sound.

  A line of blood trickled from his nose.

  Slowly, he turned back around as Kari and Siegfried laughed. “See? Nearly sent him flying. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Petric.”

  Matthias Stonebreaker didn’t speak. ‘Be the stone. Let the storm pass,’ he repeated the mantra in his mind.

  He stared at his three tormentors, his mouth a hard line.

  Slowly their smiles began to fade, laughter dissipating.

  “What’s with that look?” Kari demanded. “You have something to say? You want another blow?”

  Matthias had a lot to say. A lot he would’ve liked to do.

  Instead, he simply shook his head.

  “Maybe you should say something,” Siegfried smirked. “We were kind enough to introduce a new friend to you. Where’s your courtesy?”

  His bulging eyes narrowed. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

  “I’ll burn your eyebrows off with a word.” Petric waved his fingers ominously, confidence returning.

  To that, Matthias eyed him. Petric flinched.

  “Listen, you’re new here, so let me give you some advice. The beating you could give me? It couldn’t be nearly as bad as the one Sur Friya will give all of you if you’re late for training.”

  Both Siegfried and Kari winced.

  Matthias pushed. “Please, by all means. Stay here. Take another swing. Even if you blacken both my eyes, they’ll still see the beating you’ll get just fine when she finds you. She might already be looking for you.”

  Kari and Siegfried glanced at each other.

  “Fine, we’ll see you later.” Kari smiled once more, showing a lot of teeth.

  “Hide behind Sur Friya, it’s all you can do. No guts. No glory. No future.” Siegfried pushed.

  Matthias said nothing.

  “Ah, forget it,” Kari muttered. “He’s no fun. Come on.”

  “Right.” Petric said, looking down at the censer. His nostrils flared. “Go out,” he commanded. The flames snuffed out. His eyes focused on the censer. “Crumple.”

  “Wait!” Matthias started.

  There was a creak of metal collapsing on itself, scrunching down until the censer was nothing more than a twisted ball of brass.

  “Enjoy that,” Petric said, quickly looking to his cousin and Kari for approval.

  The two boys howled, pounding him on the back as all three turned, making their way to the road. Some of the mist had cleared, revealing the muddy track and steep hill on the other side of the mountain path.

  Matthias stared at the ruin of brass.

  He had prepared a number of gifts for his brother.

  One, a batch of calming alchemical herbs to help with his condition.

  Two, a censer to burn them in along with some fragrant oils to cut the stench of his ‘home’.

  Both had been ruined.

  Matthias’ breath came faster. His heartbeat quickened. His jaw clenched.

  He wanted nothing more than to break the skulls of those laughing bastards as they walked away. How many days had they ruined? How many times had they been protected?

  The young man shook, his hands balling into fists.

  ‘Be the stone. Calm. Let the storm pass,’ he thought. ‘You have to let it pass. You don’t want a fight right now. Besides, you knew this could happen. You were ready for it. That’s why you–”

  Then he heard it.

  “So, if that’s what he looks like, have you ever seen The Beast? That’s what you call his brother, right?” Petric asked Siegfried.

  The Beast.

  Those two words blasted the mantra from Matthias’ mind.

  He bent down, seizing the hot brass from the mud; it was cooling but was still hot enough to sting his palm.

  He couldn’t care less.

  One foot planted.

  His arm cocked back as he turned.

  The three boys had reached the path, close to the muddy slope on the other side. It’d be slick from the rain and would lead straight down to a patch of thorn bushes at the bottom of the hill.

  “Hey! You were right!” Matthias shouted. “I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Matthias Stonebreaker, son of Beggahasta! I might not have The Gift, but I have a gift for you!”

  Petric began to turn.

  Matthias whipped the hot brass ball at him.

  There was a crunch as Siegfried’s cousin caught it on the jaw. He yelped, stumbling back, spinning around.

  The brass ball dropped to the ground.

  Petric tumbled down the hill.

  “Petric!” Siegfried cried, disappearing down the slope.

  Seconds passed, then the Gift-User's screams echoed through the valley.

  “No, Petric!” Siegfried cried. “Stop thrashing, you’re working yourself deeper into the thorns!”

  Matthias smiled.

  Kari stared down the hill, then turned, snarling. “What have you done?”

  “Introduced myself.” Matthias cracked his neck. He blew blood from his nose. “No one calls my brother that. No one.”

  “Pissant!” Kari snapped, stalking forward. “You just earned yourself the beating of a lifetime! Even my father will be shocked at what I’m going to do to you—”

  “Trainee!” another voice snapped. “There you are!”

  Kari froze, going pale.

  From down the road strode a tall woman: lean, sharp-eyed, brown hair caught in a bun, her armour polished to a mirror shine. The veteran knight’s plain face sported a ragged scar that ran from her cheek, over her brow and deep into her hairline.

  “S-Sur Friya!” Kari stammered. “H-how did you —”

  “Find you? I was nearby and followed the screaming. You were dodging training. Again. Without training, how are you going to survive the Wolfwood? What do you plan to do when the Artenesians finally turn those red-flecked eyes of theirs north?” She marched up to the young man. “You’re going to regret every training you skipped when they flay you alive.”

  Kari pointed at Matthias. “Did you see what he did? He assaulted Siegfried’s cousin by way of surprise! No honour! He’s filth!”

  Sur Friya looked at Matthias.

  The young man pointed down at the brass ball near Kari’s feet. “Remember my gift for Bregindoure? That’s what it looks like now.”

  Kari looked down and grimaced. “It’s not what it looks like!”

  “No, no Petric! Stop, you’re pulling me into the bushes—Aaaaargh!” Siegfried screamed.

  Sur Friya growled. The knight bent down, picking up the ball. She shook her head. “This is childish. The three of you are nearly full-grown men; yet here you are attacking your future allies, I’d expect better of my students. Training today will be…well, let’s just say you’ll soon wish you were in an Artenesian battle-pit instead of here.”

  Kari balked.

  Sur Friya looked at Matthias, tossing him the ball.

  He caught it, bowing to her. “Thank you, knight.”

  “Don’t think I’m not disappointed. This is not the Way of Stone…” She paused. “But I can understand it. Go. Your brother and sister are waiting, and we’ve all wasted enough time here.”

  “Thank you, knight.” Matthias bowed once more, then turned and ran down the path.

  He could feel Kari and Sur Friya’s gazes on his back; one filled with anger, the other with pity.

  For Matthias, he felt both pride and disappointment in his chest.

  Pride at having stood up for his brother. Disappointment at letting control slip.

  ‘The storm will pass,’ he thought. ‘But it’ll be bad for a while. For now, I’ll be alright, but they’ll want their revenge.’

  How much pain had been caused because he was incompatible with Life Enforcement? How much more had been caused because—no matter how hard he tried—he couldn’t develop The Gift, and hope for that dropped with each passing birthday.

  His mother and sister had both.

  His father had Life Enforcement.

  There was the way of Divine Breath, but no matter how desperate he was for any path to power, that art was forbidden by the deities, and he knew no one to test his compatibility with it.

  ‘Why can’t I do anything?’ he brooded. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

  His shadow was long and deep as he ran down the path.

  Grinding his teeth, he pushed those thoughts from his mind.

  This was not the time to wallow in his problems.

  It was his brother’s birthday, and both he and their little sister expected him.

  Dagma was probably already there.

  At their older brother’s home.

  At their older brother’s prison.

  As he ran, the sun shone through a break in the clouds.

  His shadow grew longer beneath the light, stretching far down the path. Then—through that same break—a dark shape passed over the edge of the sun.

  The black moon.

  Behind Matthias, his shadow rippled.

  It's the start of a new journey. And I can't wait to walk together again.

  As you can see Life Enforcement's already starting to make an appearance, while the The Gift is a little something new (or old, when it comes to me. The Gift is a personal magic system I designed for my home TTRPG games...10-15 years ago, haha).

  ###

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