《Djinn》


 Chapter 1

    Cereus¡¯s boot steps onto the concrete with a dull thunk, his other following after. He lifts his black hooded head to the dark sky, taking a deep breath of the spring air.


    The sky above is completely black, only the moon standing out.


    He mutters under his breath, ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Earth.¡±


    He adjusts the belt that runs across his chest, the sword on his back jingling quietly. His black cowled head turns to look at the dark windowed house.


    It is of moderate size, and relatively new. The white paint has faded to a off white and it¡¯s roof has become battered and beaten from weather. The plain front yard, that has only a few shrubs as topiary, chirps with insects.


    Cereus flicks his wrist, a translucent and minimalist menu popping up in front of him. He clicks on a few icons, navigating through it till he gets to what he wants.


    He grunts, scrolling down through the list and stopping on a picture of a young man. The man has disheveled brown hair, dark brown eyes that are close to being black, and a dusting of freckles over his cheeks and nose. The dark, purple blue, bags under his eyes stand out against the harsh light the picture was taken in, the angles of his face giving him a sinister appearance.


    The Dark Swordsman scratches his chin, hmming. ¡°So you are the 78th subject? Not much from what I can see.¡±


    Cereus scrolls through the profile, looking at the detailed information, things such as height, BMI, thought patterns, traits and much more. He stops on the traits, tapping on one and making an understanding sound. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s why. Interesting.¡±


    Cereus swipes, and the screen disappears. He cracks his fingers, rolling his shoulders and neck to limber up. He flicks his wrist again, pulling up another menu. He winces as he finishes reading it, ¡°Ohf, that¡¯s a nasty one. Time of death is estimated to occur in 30 minutes, I best get prepared.¡±


    He looks up at the dark windows, then takes a step forward, and the shadows of the night seem to stretch towards him and consume him. A predatory smile flitters on his lips as he mutters under his breath, ¡°Now I just have to wait.¡±


    The Dark Swordsman vanishes into the shadows, the cool spring air once again filled with the chirping of crickets.


    ***


    I sigh, rubbing my eyes. Man, I shouldn¡¯t have gone to that party.


    Clutching the plastic, convenience store bag, I glance up and down the street. The light from the gas station and convenience store behind me illuminates the darkness of the night for several feet.


    Rubbing the back of my aching head, the headache pounding at the inside of my skull, I step onto the street.


    I walk over the asphalt, the plastic bag rustling in my hand.


    The screech of tires assault my ears and bright headlights fill my vision. I squint at the fast approaching car. Loud music is booming out from the car as the driver heedlessly rushes towards me.


    Oh, cheesus.


    The trees rustle in the spring breeze, and the vroom of the car speeding up fills my mind. Time seems to slow as the car approaches me.


    The car is feet from me, about to crash into me bodily. It¡¯s driver is bobbing his long haired head up and down to the screeching metal music the radio is playing.


    My eyes open in horror as it registers with my brain. He¡¯s not stopping!


    I twist my body, stepping quickly forward. I watch in slow motion as the car crosses the last few inches between where I am standing. The plastic bag slips from my fingers, flinging itself into the air.


    Then I am floating in the air, my feet off the ground.


    The car speeds past me.


    I land hard on the asphalt, skidding my cheek across the coarse surface, peeling skin from the palms of my hands. I roll, trying to defuse my momentum.


    The back of my already aching head cracks against the cement curb and I go flying over into the grass.


    Rolling on my side, I eventually stop, my mind spinning. I stare up at the dark sky, the only light coming from the waxing moon. The trees rustle in the wind above me, and I stare at the moon, slowly regathering my thoughts.


    I sit up with a groan and curse, yelling out in anger and outrage, ¡°WATCH WHERE YOU¡¯RE FREAKING DRIVING!¡±


    The car speeds around a bend in the road, the wheels screeching as rubber is burned on asphalt and its headlights vanishing further into the night.


    Climbing to my feet, I massage my cheek, my hand comes back sticky and wet. Great, now I¡¯m bleeding.


    The palms of my hands are torn to shreds, and I curse as the pain finally hits me. Oh god, it hurts!


    I look at the remnants of my convenience store bag and curse even more. Its contents have been pulverized, fizzing soda leaking out and the candy bars turned to mush.


    I throw my hands up in defeat, slouching over and saying heatedly, ¡°Just great! Just. Freaking. Great!¡±


    Limping my way onto the sidewalk, I look over the metal fence and to the dark houses of my neighborhood. I hold my bloody and shaking hands to my side as I walk down the sidewalk, heading towards home. ¡°God damn idiot.¡±


    The sidewalk continues onwards, but I step off it and onto the street that the sidewalk intersects. Walking down the street¡¯s edge, I eventually make it to my home.


    Walking up the stone steps, and onto the porch, I fish around my belt for my keys. After a few tries, I manage to unhook the keys from my belt.


    Fumbling with them, and trying to not cover them in blood, I grab the silver house key. The keys rattle with my shaking hand as I go to unlock the door.


    As I touch the door knob, the door creaks open. What?


    Pushing the door open the entire way, I glance at the dark insides of the house. Did mom leave the door open?


    I limp into my house, shutting the door behind me and locking it. That¡¯s just like her, I think ruefully. I¡¯ve still got to apologize to her though.


    I flick the lights on and shuffle my way to the bathroom. Carefully opening the door, so as not to smear blood on it, I go over to the sink.


    I turn the water to freezing cold, and dunk my burning hands under the faucet. I sigh in relief as the water rushes through my wounds, numbing the pain.


    Looking up, I turn my face so I can see my cheek in the mirror. I wince, That¡¯s nasty!


    My right cheekbone¡¯s flesh has been skidded off, blood welling up and dripping down the side of my face.


    Dang! I¡¯m going to have to get disinfectant.


    I pull my hands from the sink, letting the red water run down the drain. I pull a wad of toilet paper off the roll, and wet it under the faucet. I rub the blood away from my cheek, clearing away as much blood as I can.


    Wincing at the sting, I finish cleaning the wound to the best of my ability and toss the bloody paper into the trash.


    I look at my cheekbone again. Shoot!


    White glints from within the wound. God darn it, that¡¯s freaking bone.


    I¡¯m going to need some disinfectant and gauze.


    Limping out of the bathroom, I make my way to the closet near the living room. We should have some stored in the closet.


    Movement catches my attention in the living room, and I squint in the darkness. Hey, what?


    I watch as a humanoid shadow appears from the back of my living room, a bag in one hand and a dark, metal object in the other. It lets out a surprised gasp, and in the blink of an eye, the metal object is pointed at me.


    There is a flash of light, a thunderous roaring and a blossom of pain in my gut. I gasp, my eyes widening, and I fall to my knees, hunching over my stomach.


    I clutch at my stomach, sticky fluid spilling out and covering my hands, staining my clothes.


    I choke out in disbelief, ¡°W-what?¡±


    I hear distantly someone curse, ¡°-be! No, no, no!¡±


    I curl up, hyperventilating and shuddering, trying to take in gulps of air. Not like this!


    A shadow falls over me, and I look up at my attacker. In his shaking hand is a smoking, black handgun. In his other is a bag that clatters with metal.


    My mind instantly flashes to understanding. A thief! He¡¯s a bloody thief.


    The man is cursing even more, and just looking down at me, his voice climbing in higher octaves of panic.


    I glare up at him, gritting my teeth. I can¡¯t die here! No! I can¡¯t!


    With a force of will, my hand flops onto my killer¡¯s sneaker, smearing dark crimson onto it.


    He jumps back, startled and breathing heavily.


    My eye¡¯s meet him, and I glare at him, my ears ringing with blood rushing. I grit out through my teeth, ¡°Damn¡­ you!¡±


    The man¡¯s face is twisted in something between a grimace, horror and panic.


    I etch what I can see of his face in my mind. Pale, icy cold blue eyes are the only thing I can make out from the shadows of his hood, a bandana covering his lower face.


    Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision, consuming my sight. I give into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, entering oblivion.


    My last thought echoes through my mind, I¡­ can¡¯t die like this.


    ***


    I float in a endless abyss, there is nothing. No light, no ground, no air and I can¡¯t feel my limbs. I can¡¯t move.


    Where.. Am I?


    ¡°You are dead.¡± A voice echoes out from the abyss, sounding reassuring and calm.


    As I float, a figure seems to unfold itself from reality, standing in front of me. It is a man, a black cloak on his shoulders and hood obscuring his face, eery amber eyes burn from within the darkness of his hood. A short sword¡¯s hilt on his back glints in the non existent light, a leather belt over his chest and dark clothes that blend with the cloak.


    He walks with heavy boots towards me, the noise echoing in the air that doesn¡¯t exist. The figure stops a few feet in front of me.


    I feel like I should be panicking, but for some reason I can¡¯t. Infact, now that I try to think about it, I can¡¯t feel anything, both physical and mental. I purse my imaginary lips, thinking, I don¡¯t have emotions.


    My thoughts feel sluggish, and my memories hazy. I feel incredibly detached.


    The figure chuckles, his shoulders rising and falling. ¡°That tends to happen when you don¡¯t have a brain to think with, or the chemicals it produces to make emotions possible.¡±


    I say dumbly, still trying to understand whats going on, Yeah. That.


    The man claps his hands together, wringing them. ¡°Well, it is nice to meet you. I am Cereus, though I have gone by many names.¡±


    I try to be polite, I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m¡­?


    The man nods slowly, ¡°You went by the name Eric Hall.¡±


    I¡¯m Eric, nice to meet you. I say, or rather think. I look Cereus up and down, and I suddenly get a bad premonition. Are you the grim reaper?


    The man bursts out laughing, his laughter echoes in the abyss, and it for some reason puts me on edge. He soon stops, bending over and leaning on his knees.


    He holds up a finger, motioning for a second.


    Once he has caught his breath, he stands upright. His amber eyes boring into my very soul. ¡°Some people have called me that, it is one of the more common things people call me. Though I don¡¯t usually meddle with souls anymore. And before you ask, yes, you are dead.¡±


    I am¡­ dead? I focus, trying to remember.


    Hazy images of blood, pain and icy blue eyes come to the front of my mind. I was murdered.


    ¡°Yes, well the person who killed you, I can say, very much regrets it. Now, I have come here with an offer,¡± The hooded man reaches out a hand, palm up. ¡°How would you like to be reincarnated? Think on this, for what I am offering you is both a curse and a miracle,¡± He holds his arms out to his sides with a flourish, ¡°You will find both great pain and boundless love. Adventure, riches, power! But also suffering, misery and death.¡±


    It¡¯s an offer that I wasn¡¯t expecting. And I have a niggling in the back of my mind, but I can¡¯t figure out what it is. What if I refuse?


    The man nods his head in understanding, ¡°Then I let your soul return to the natural cycle of life and death, of normal reincarnation.¡±


    It¡¯s tempting, to be reborn again. The idea of having a second chance at life, but he had also said some things that make me hesitate. What¡¯s the catch?


    A predatory smile gleams from under the hood, the man bobbing his head and pacing back and forth. He steeples his fingers, thinking for a second, his cloak swishing behind him. ¡°There is a catch. You will be reincarnated on a different world. Now, that¡¯s only a part of it. You would become a willing subject in a test that me and my... colleagues are conducting. Our hope is to extract enough variable data from this experiment.


    It¡¯s a rather wide scale project, and we¡¯ve learned from our past mistakes, that there needs to be a more structured system in place, or¡­ certain variables may get out of control. It¡¯s also our hope to stimulate growth in the directions we intend. Though, this is only an experiment, if you are getting what I am saying.¡± He says under his breath away from me, I can barely make it out, ¡°That variable being a strong willed, stubborn and vengeful young man.¡±


    I furrow my brow, even though I know I don¡¯t actually have one. So¡­ I¡¯m going to be a lab rat?


    Cereus freezes in place, and for a few uncomfortable seconds, he doesn¡¯t say anything. Then he starts back to pacing. ¡°Sort of. I think the better idea would be that you will be playing¡­ a game. Like an RPG.¡±


    A role playing game?


    Cereus nods, ¡°Yes! There you go, you¡¯re getting the idea.¡±


    Why an RPG?


    He chuckles a little, and says in a loud whisper, ¡°It took a lot of convincing, but I managed to get my boss to agree to my idea of using something similar to a video game¡¯s mechanics. Of course, this is real life, so things are bound to be different. It¡¯s great!¡±


    I could feel myself getting slightly excited, but the emotion feels more like a memory than anything. The idea of playing a real world video game seems to excite me and it captures my interest.


    Also, I know I didn¡¯t want to die. So, why not take this second chance?


    I accept your offer.


    Cereus claps his hands, a smile gleaming from under his hood, his amber eyes burning. ¡°Great! Now, a few things before we do anything else.¡±


    He straightens, his tone becoming more serious, ¡°You will gain access to the System whenever you undergo the ceremony. You will be reborn on the continent of Ilira, in the kingdom of Soma. To help you better integrate, I will be downloading several languages into your mind, namly Common.


    You may feel some disorientation on rebirth, and you will find that your mind is going to be not developed. So, I will be bolstering your thought processes to help you think more clearly, it will approximately give you the brain capacity of your previous age, even in the body of a baby.


    That sound good?¡±


    It takes me a second to process what he has said. Do I get a special skill?


    The hooded figure chuckles, shaking his head, ¡°Not from me, no. It all depends on you and what you do.¡±


    I think of one more question I have. What am I going to be reborn as?


    Cereus shrugs, ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough. Plus, I don¡¯t want to spoil the fun.¡±


    I shrug my mental shoulders, trying to muster up the urge to care, but am unable to. Is there anything else I need to know?If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The hooded man rubs his chin, which is cloaked in shadow, then clicks his tongue and holds up his finger, ¡°I¡¯m not in charge of which body your soul will be put in. It¡¯s hard, you know, to find a newly born infant without a soul.


    Also, if you want to get access to the RPG system, you¡¯re going to have to work for it. I¡¯ll give you a hint¡­ you need to do something notable to impress the Spirits into giving you a powerful Djinn. That¡¯s all, now have a fun time.¡±


    Wait, what does that mean?


    ¡°Nope, no time. I got to go to the next candidates and can¡¯t spend anymore time on you. Don¡¯t die, again... This might be a tab bit unpleasant, but we gotta get your soul there in a timely fashion, so you¡¯ll have to deal with it. Bye, bye now,¡± The man chuckles, a predatory smile shining from within his hood. He holds up his fingers and snaps them.


    The sound slows, time seeming to stutter to a stop and the snapping warping into a long chime. Reality seems to shatter like a mirror around his hand, shards flying everywhere.


    I scream as my soul is ripped across space, dragged through the fabric of reality. Millions of potential worlds go flying by at the blink of an eye, and I can barely process them.


    I get a glance inside a cold, empty space. A giant eye opens, glowing with eldritch energy, it reaches a humongous tentacle towards me, it is covered in suckers full of teeth and spines. Then it is over, and I am dragged into the next universe.


    This time a volcano on the horizon spews molten fireballs, clouds billowing out of it laced with lightning. A giant claw clings to the rim of the volcano, hauling a nightmarish form up. I can feel it¡¯s very presence tearing apart my soul. Then space shatters again and I¡¯m hauled on.


    Prisms reflecting light, shining rainbows through the foggy, cool air. It is beautiful, and hard for me to look at, to comprehend. I can feel my mind having trouble processing the strange, impossible shapes and colors. Colors that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Then I launched on through space and into another dimension.


    I can feel my mind shattering and being put back together, only faint images remaining of the horrors and wonders I see.


    Then it feels like I hit a wall, air escaping my non existent lungs as I wheeze mentally. I float high above a world, my mind, even detached from its emotions, reeling from what I have experienced.


    Looking down, I can see wide blue oceans and swathes of lush green land. It looks like a marble in a vast universe, and I can¡¯t help but feel relieved at the sight of it. It¡¯s something reasonably sane, even if I am floating high above it.


    A cold, robotic voice says in my mind, ¡®Transfer successful. Commencing integration¡­¡¯


    I feel a cold, sting in the back of my mind. It worms its way into my soul, and I can¡¯t help but wither and scream at the unnatural feeling of it.


    ¡®3...¡¯


    I scream louder as it feels like my soul is being stretched.


    ¡®2¡­¡¯


    A feeling of my soul being sucked down into a straw commences, my mind swirling in confusion.


    ¡®1¡­¡¯


    There is a jolt, my body and soul shivering as they are tethered together, my mind reeling in pain and confusion.


    ¡®Integration of Ex.078L successful.¡¯


    I gasp, coughing up foul tasting liquid. A scream wrenches itself from my throat at the pain, it feels like my head has been machine pressed, every muscle and bone in my body aching in pain.


    Cracking my eyes open, fitting through the pain, I look at the world around me. It is blurry and smudged, my eyes unable to focus and the light piercing. I scream louder, my throat feeling sore from the massive amount of pain.


    My wails slowly choke off as I feel rough, coarse hands swindle me in a itchy blanket. The feeling of vertigo is a massive rush as I am picked up.


    Blinking and squinting, I can make out objects close to me. Above me a giant face looms, a smile stretching across its features. The person comes into focus, and I realize that it is a woman.


    She has big, almond colored eyes. She has olive skin, bronze like in the dim light. Her hair is a auburn red, seeming to flame in the light. Her face is round, her features seemingly perfect in every aspect, from her flawless skin to her sad smile.


    Wait, sad smile? Why are there tears in her eyes? Are they of joy?


    What my eyes are drawn to most are her ears. They stick out from her hair, coming to a round point.


    An elf!


    The shock from seeing such a thing completely silences my wailing in pain. I try reach to touch them, but my arm doesn¡¯t follow my command. Instead, it flops around and my head lolls with it, giving me a good look at my body.


    It is chubby, the skin flushed a reddish pink. I am swaddled in a brown wool blanket and held gently in my new mother¡¯s arms.


    The events of what has just happened come over me, and I can feel my mind starting to spin into panic. I agreed to be reborn! I¡¯m alive again!


    My mouth feels funny, no teeth and only gums smacking against each other as I try to smile.


    Then it hits me.


    Mom¡¯s going to be devastated.


    I died right in our home. Murdered.


    What am I going to do now?


    I¡¯m a baby, reborn thousands of universes away. I can still remember bits and pieces of what I saw as I was dragged here, and I shudder even at those quickly fading memories. What am I supposed to do now?


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have taken that man¡¯s deal. While it seemed like I was getting a good deal, I am not sure what I am supposed to do now.


    I am drawn from my quickly spiraling thoughts, which were headed to a dismal place, by a maid.


    She stands off to the left of the bed my mother is laying in, blood all over his hands and down the front of his shirt. Other women rush around her, vanishing into blurry shapes out of my range of sight.


    It is at this moment I realize something is horribly wrong.


    My mother turns my head to look at her, her smile sad and tears streaming down her face. She whispers to me through choked back sobs, her language complex and it takes my ears a second to understand through their ringing.


    Gently, carefully, she takes my tiny left hand in her own, rubbing it slowly.


    ¡°My sweet baby, I love you so-so much. You¡¯re beautiful, please don¡¯t forget me. Be strong, for mommie,¡± She runs a shaky hand over my face and the top of my head, smoothing down my hair. Her bottom lip trembling and tears streaming down her face, curving along her cheekbones and pooling in droplets on her perfect chin. ¡°Don¡¯t-don¡¯t -forget me, I-I love you.¡±


    Something is horribly wrong. She¡¯s talking like she isn¡¯t going to see me.


    I feel hands other than my mother¡¯s around my blanket wrapped form. They tug, and my mother let¡¯s go with only a little bit of resistance, her arms flopping limply on the bed.


    He reaches out a second layer, towards me, shouting in a desperation, ¡°Wait! Can¡¯t I at least name her?¡±


    The maid is holding me, her hands now having been cleaned and a fresh apron on her. She is human, with pale skin, dark brown eyes and chestnut hair.


    She stops, hesitating. She wavers between my mother on the bed and walking off, her eyes filled with pain and indecision.


    ¡°Please, she¡¯s my daughter,¡± My mother pleas again, tears streaming even faster down her cheeks.


    That seems to do it, and the maid walks back over to the bed. She stands to the left, hovering over my mother and not making a move to hand me back to her.


    I can only watch this strange exchange in confusion, unable to understand what is going on. It takes my mind a minute to catch up.


    Did she say daughter?


    The maid says in a heavy accent that I can¡¯t place, ¡°You can name her, but be quick about it. The master wants to see her as soon as possible and then wants her gone.¡±


    Gone? Wait, why do I have to go?


    My mother reaches a delicate hand up to me, holding my small hand and rubbing the back of my palm slowly. She chokes down a sob, her tears eyes staring at me in sorrow, ¡°Her name¡¯s¡­ Her name is Kara.¡±


    The maid nods and says, ¡°A good name. Strong, yet still kind. Now, we must be off.¡±


    She turns swiftly, walking towards the door of the dimly lit room.


    I reach out to my mother, who lays on the bed, weeping. I can tell something is terribly wrong, and I can feel panic take hold of me. A scream rips itself from my throat as I try and make my body move.


    The maid hums quietly under her breath, rocking me back and forth in what she probably is a comforting manner. I continue to wail, from both the pain and the fact that I am being torn away from my new mother. Wailing because of everything I have left behind.


    I had a fight with my mother before I died! Oh gods, how I wish I could tell her sorry. Oh, how I wish I could have said goodbye.


    I had friends back on earth. I never got to say bye, or even apologize to Sam for punching him at the party. I didn¡¯t ever get to explore the world, or even go to college.


    The regrets sit like a rock in my stomach, and I wail as loud as I can.


    And now, only moments after my rebirth, I am being torn away from my new mother.


    The maid pushes through the dark wood door and into a lavishly decorated hallway. She turns to the left, cradling my wailing form in her arms, and walks down the empty hallway.


    Through my vision, I spy hanging on a wall, a banner. It is embossed with golden thread on a black background. A large star sits in the center, both of it¡¯s top points stretched longer than the others.


    For some reason, it catches my attention. I burn it in my memory, along with my new mother¡¯s tear covered face. For some reason, I can sense that this banner is important.


    Then we are past it and the maid reaches a T fork in the hallway. She turns on her heel, walking down the left branch.


    The walls are soon covered in portrait that I can barely make out, the finer details. But I can make out the hawkish like predatory pose they all make, looking down like they are peering at prey.


    My wails slowly slow down, and I can feel my eyelids getting heavy.


    Then the dark haired maid stops before a pair of dark wood double doors. She sucks in a deep breath, releasing it and schooling her features into a neutral expression.


    Knocking on the doors, she takes another breath and waits, listening.


    A muffled voice comes from the door, ¡°Come in.¡±


    The maid turns the golden handle of the door, pushing it in and walking through.


    My vision is quickly improving, and I can make out most of the room. It is cloaked in shadow, a fireplace crackling in the back and throwing moving shapes across the room. A large bookshelf stands against the left wall. Large, sweeping windows provide a view of a town bathed in the darkness of night, a full moon streaming moonlight into the room.


    A shape moves near the fireplace, in a chair facing the fire. A man places a goblet of wine next to the bottle on a small, ebon wood desk.


    The man is clothed in what looks to be expensive finery, a dark robe embroidered with gold and white, a star weaved into the fabric over his chest.


    He has dark rings under his eyes, his face aged with tiredness. His hair is salt and pepper, a five o¡¯ clock shadow adorning his face. His eyes have a cold look in them when he turns to look at me and the maid that took me from my mother, I can¡¯t help but shudder.


    This can¡¯t be good.


    I push back the sleepiness that threatens to take me. Whatever is happening, I need to be awake for it.


    Another man sits in the chair across from the haughty man. This man has a potbelly, round glasses perched on his nose. His cheeks are a ruddy red, and his magnified green eyes are cold. His hair is swept back and shines in the light of the fireplace. He is covered in all sorts of silver and gold jewelry, diamonds, emerald and rubies set in necklaces. Expensive rings shine on his fingers, clear crystals on a few glinting in the light.


    The fat man sets his goblet of red wine down on the table as well, huffing and causing his large jowls to bounce.


    The first man speaks in a neutral tone, looking at me, ¡°Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yer Lordship,¡± The maid says with a bow.


    Lord? That man is a lord?


    The Lord stands slowly up from the cushioned chair, walking methodically slowly towards us.


    The maid shifts me around in her arms, moving so that I am facing the man.


    The Lord stops a foot away, peering down at me like a hawk, his hands behind his back. He doesn¡¯t make a move to touch me.


    ¡°Which is it?¡±


    The maid, with her schooled expression, says, ¡°A girl, yer lordship.¡±


    The Lord pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Now that he is closer, I can see that he has icy blue eyes and his ears are rounded. A human.


    He says after a breath, ¡°Tiron, lets be done with this as quickly as possible.¡±


    The fat man stands with no small bit of effort, his large stomach sticking out in front of him as he walks over. He bows shallowly to the first man, saying in a respectful tone, ¡°Of course, Lord Everstar. It shall be quick, and it¡¯ll be out of your hair in no time.¡±


    Done quickly? A horrible thought crosses my mind. Are they going to kill me? Again?


    No, I don¡¯t believe that the hooded man would give me a second life for it to end just minutes later.


    Lord Everstar nods, motioning to a desk that is set under the large moonlit windows. It¡¯s surface is dark and has a red blanket embroidered with gold tassel draped over it.


    Is that a sacerficial alter?


    My tiny eyes widen at the sight of it.


    The maid walks over to the desk, and I desperately force my limbs to move. They flop around my chest as I try and hit the maid, wailing my discontent at being put on top of the alter.


    I flail my limbs screeching and wailing as much as I can, fighting against the blanket wrapped around me and the maid who is holding me still, shushing me.


    The fat man, Tiron, aproaches me, Lord Everstar going around the table so he is standing in front of the windows. Tiron, brings a meaty palm up, his sausage fingers barely fitting in the many rings on his hand.


    He hovers the palm over my head, muttering under his breath. A triangle inside a circle with three circles on each point, strange writing scraled all along its edges, is tattooed onto his palm. The air feels like it is charged with static, like right before a lightning bolt strikes.


    I screech. I don¡¯t want to die! I don¡¯t! No!


    Tiron lays his large, chubby hand on my forehead, holding my head still. The rings on his hands flash with multicolored light, strange symbols etched into them start glowing.


    The fat man holds up a small crystal ball in his other hand, muttering. His jowls move up and down as he speaks, focusing on his hand as I wail.


    Then there is a flash of bright light, and I can feel something wash over my mind. A tingling, pins and needles feeling rushes over my forehead, and then it travels down my body, eventually stopping at my toes.


    I blink, realizing that I stopped screaming.


    Tiron raises his hand from my head, his strange muttering stopping. There is a strange silence in the air, only the crackle of the fire filling the dark study.


    In front of me hovers a game-like screen, I can see through it and I can tell that it is being projected by the crystal ball into the air. I study the screen along with everyone else in the room.


    Status:


    Name: Kara Suntec Everstar


    Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf


    Gender: Female


    Age: 0


    Djinn:


    Class: Blade Magnus Lvl. 1


    Rank: Vermillion


    Mana: 110


    Statistics:


    CON: 1


    STR: 1


    DEX: 9


    INT: 6


    ARC: 11


    Free Perk Points:12


    Skills:


    Blade Sorcery Lvl. 1


    My eyes scan over it, taking in the information. This must be the RPG system the man talked about.


    Tiron moves the ball, the status screen hovering in the air vanishing as he grips it in his whole palm.


    Lord Everstar¡¯s expression darkens, his grim features turning even grimer. He grabs the ball from Tiron, looking at the screen again. His eyes move back and forth as he reads it, and he looks increasingly unpleased.


    Tiron says, ¡°It take¡¯s after you, A Blade Magnus. And already at Vermillion! Are you sure you still wish to proceed? Bastard child or not, it could still be of some worth.¡±


    Everstar looks up sharply, glaring at the fat man. ¡°Watch your tounge, Magnus. This thing should not have existed in the first place. It was a mistake, one that I intend to not let ruin me. Proceed with the operation.¡±


    Their going to kill me now, aren¡¯t they?


    Tiron nods, stooping down to grab a case from the floor. He sets it on the table with a thunk, flipping two clamps open.


    He says with pride, boasting, ¡°This is a extremely rare device. It took a entire team of Emeralds to extract it from the ruins of a once great city. The Ancestors had locked it up in a trapped facility. If I must boast, it took quite some charm to convince the man holding it to trade for it.¡±


    With a grunt, Tiron pulls a silvery device from the case. It is a ball made of metal hexagon tiles, red energy glowing in between the tiles. Those strange symbols are etched in complex spirals on each individual tile, and glow with the same sinister red light.


    The fat man lays the strange device down next to me gently, almost like he is afraid of touching it. He reaches back into the case, pulling out a curved dagger.


    The hilt of the dagger is made of wood, embossed with gold and a high quietly leather grip. It¡¯s blade curves to a point, and it is wickedly sharp.


    Tiron reverses his grip on the dagger, holding it out to Everstar. The Lord grips it with surety, his eyes glinting with menace as he looks at me.


    Tiron continue to speak as he grabs the sphere and places it above my head, ¡°Now, as agreed, I will be paid in valuable gems amounting to the sum of 40,000 gold. Yes?¡±


    Lord Everstar nods, holding the dagger in his hand and ignoring me.


    This can¡¯t be good, can it? I don¡¯t think they are going to kill me, though.


    It didn¡¯t seem like they were planning to murder me. Instead, they were planning to do some kind of ¡°operation¡±.


    Tiron pulls out two scrolls, setting them to either side of me. He unrolls them, revealing long, complex strings of symbols. He continue to speak as he works his ministrations on the ritual, ¡°This device here, as I said, is exterminly rare. I know of only two others that exist. This beaut,¡± He motions to the hexagon paneled sphere, ¡°Is something special. It can strip a person of their Djinn. Completely. It severs all bonds they currently have with any Djinn, and also neutralizes their ability to Bond, with the proper ritual in place, of course. A true marvel.¡±


    The fat man rubs his hands together in excitement, looking at Lord Everstar.


    I stare at them both in horror. They are removing my Djinn?


    From looking at my status, I can only assume that the ¡°Djinn¡± is some sort of class, and from their conversation that I got it for my relation with Everstar. And the evil ball stop me from getting another!


    I desperately try and flail about, but the maid hold me still. I scream my little throat hoarse, trying to escape.


    Tiron looks down on me and chuckles, ¡°Feisty little one, ain¡¯t she? Well, no matter. Now, the Orb of Severing of course comes with it¡¯s restraints. It requires the blood of the person that it would strip of their Djinn, with consent. Otherwise it wouldn¡¯t work at all. Luckily, with the consent and blood of a close relative, it will work. Now, go ahead and cut your palm and hold it over the Orb.¡±


    My throat is screamed raw at this point, and I cough, my wails ceasing. My chest is heaving as I gulp in cool night air. Tiron nods at this, a pleased expression over his face. I glare at him as best I can, trying to give him the bird, but my fingers only twitch.


    I watch as Lord Everstar holds his palm over the sphere, bringing the dagger up. He swiftly cut across it, and puts the blade back on the table. I watch as blood drips from his palm onto the sphere with a quiet patter.


    An ugly smile stretches across Tiron¡¯s features, ¡°Now say, ¡®I give my consent to Sever Kara Suntec Everstar.¡¯¡±


    Everstar stares at the orb, and glances at me. His expression twists into one of disgust, and he turns back. Straightening is posture, he says, ¡°I give my consent to Sever Kara Suntec Everstar.¡±


    I watch, as time seemingly slows, a drop of blood wells up from within the cut. It slides down his hand, stopping for a second and stretching into a drop ready to fall. Then it falls, the small red dot plummeting towards the metal sphere.


    My eyes widen slowly as the drop cuts through the air, splashing down on the metal of the sphere. Time seems to speed back up, and a loud chime sounds from the Orb of Severing. The light between the plates seems to pulse, growing brighter.


    I watch as long, sinister red, tendrils poke out from the crack of the sphere, the plates being moved around to allow them to pass like a horrible maw opening. I watch as four of the red energy tentacles slither forward on the red cover draped desk.


    The symbols on both scrolls on either side of me are glowing the same sinister red color, pulsing with power.


    I flail my body, trying to rock myself out of the tendril¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Hold her still!¡± Tiron yells at the maid.


    The woman complies, grabbing me and nailing me to to table with her superior strength.


    I continue to kick and flail, screaming out my discontent.


    No, no, no! I don¡¯t want to lose my Djinn!


    The very thought of it churns my stomach.


    The tendrils slither around my head, heat pulsing off them. They move up my head, and wrap around it. I scream louder.


    A pulse of orangish energy travels from the tendrils coiled around my head to the sphere, it feels like a chunk of my soul is ripped out. My vision blurs, and my body jolts as another one of the draining pulses tears something I didn¡¯t even know was there away from me.


    I scream my tiny throat raw as my Djinn is ripped from me, the things tethering it to my soul slowly severed with each pulse. It feels like an eternity, a vortex of never ending pain not unlike that of being hurtled through thousands of universes.


    Then it is over.


    The red tendrils uncoil from my head, slithering back into the sphere. It shuts with a quiet hiss, the red energy dimming to nothing.


    I lay there, my body in immense pain and my head feeling like it has been split open. My wails chock off into coughs.


    Tiron nods, ¡°It is done.¡±


    He lays his palm on my flushed forehead, muttering again. He holds up the sphere, I watch as my status flickers into existence.


    Status:


    Name: Kara Suntec Everstar


    Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf


    Gender: Female


    Age: 0


    Djinn:


    N/A


    Statistics:


    CON: 1


    STR: 1


    DEX: 1


    INT: 1


    ARC: N/A


    Free Perk Points: 0


    Skills:


    N/A


    Tiron turns it to face Everstar. I watch as a satisfied grin twists itself onto the Lord¡¯s lips. He nods, ¡°You shall be given your gems immediately.¡±


    The fat man smiles back, ¡°Of course, your Lordship. I do not lie. Now, if you let me pack my things up, I¡¯ll get out of your hair immediately.¡± He turns and rolls up His scrolls, placing the Orb of Severing back into the case along with the dagger.


    Tiron closes the case with a snap, clicking the locks closed. With a heave, he takes it off the table and bows, waddling off to the door. With a quiet click, I hear him leave.


    I feel like something important has been taken from me. Like a piece of my soul. Like I lost a sense, or no longer have a limb.


    Everything has happened so quickly, and my mind is still trying to process it. My thoughts feel sluggish, and all I want to do is fall asleep. But I force myself awake, listening to Lord Everstar.


    He stays away from me, like touching me would give him the plague. He motions at me, ¡°Take it away, far away. I don¡¯t want to ever see it again. Make sure it goes to the very fringes of civilization. Make sure that its blood relation is never discovered.¡±


    He turns around and stalking back over to the fire, his hands crossed behind his back. I watch in amazement as the wound on his hand quickly stitches itself back together, only a line of blood remaining where the cut was.


    The maid grabs my swaddled form up in her arms, bowing to the lord¡¯s back and quickly walking out of the room.


    I feel too tired, too in pain, to care about anything anymore. I let my heavy eyelids close, falling into a deep sleep.

 Chapter 2

    I wake to the thudding of hooves.


    My tiny body has been swaddled in a thick wool blanket, and tied to a horse¡¯s saddle. A green cloaked figure keeps a hand on me, pulling me close.


    I can¡¯t make out most of their face, only a strong chin covered in stubble. He whips the reins, urging the horse onwards. Turning his head, the full moon is revealed, peeking through the dark clouds of night.


    Things start to sink in, my thoughts whirling round and round as I process everything that has happened. I try to stop thinking, to order my thoughts. So I reach and grab onto one.


    I¡¯m a girl.


    Well, Cereus had said he wasn¡¯t in charge of what body I was going to be put in, and that there were only so many available. Despite that, I still can¡¯t get past, I¡¯m a girl now.


    I take a few deep breaths. I guess it¡¯s too late to ask for a refund. And this might have some interesting possibilities¡­


    I slap myself mentally, stopping that line of thinking. There are more important things to think about.


    Cereus had said something about undergoing a ceremony to gain access to the game system. I am pretty sure whatever Tiron did to reveal my ¡°status¡± was the ceremony.


    So, how do I open it up again?


    I¡¯ve read a few stories about people going to other worlds with game like systems, so I get the general idea.


    Status!


    Nothing happens.


    Okay, so maybe I can¡¯t think it. Maybe I have to say it?


    I try and say status but all I get is a gurgling mush of language, my baby mouth unable to form the correct syllables.


    The man carrying me looks down for a second, and rocks me a little, whispering, ¡°It¡¯s alright, little one. All will be fine.¡±


    I glare up at my captor, or at least try to. Failing that, I flail my limbs a bit, trying to punch him in the nose.


    My tiny fist brushes across his cheek Like a feather. Success!


    He doesn¡¯t say anything, just adjust me on the saddle.


    I go back to ignoring him, sifting through my thoughts.


    Holding back the flood of emotions that risk overtaking me, I focus on what has happened.


    So, I can¡¯t access my status. Do I need that crystal ball to see it?


    It makes sense, as it seemed to be projecting the information. Well, that sucks.


    They¡¯d done something to me. Stolen something just as valuable as my soul, and I can feel the empty hole from where it was. They stole my Djinn, whatever that is.


    Weren¡¯t djinn spouses to be genies? Omnipotent wish granters that would twist you wish around so that it bites you back?


    But I don¡¯t think that is an accurate description of what it was. It seemed more like a class of some sort.


    Blade Magnus. That was what it was, and from the way Tiron and Everstar where talking, it was a powerful class tied to my blood relation with the Lord.


    And they took it from me.


    Lord Everstar had called me a bastard child, so I can guess that my new body is that of a child born of wedlock. Also, the fact that I saw my ¡°racial bloodline¡± and that it said half-elf also seems to be a tip off.


    Dear old dad didn¡¯t seem all that great anyways.


    He¡¯d referred to me as an it and a mistake, and I can guess that he took me away from my mother. My new mother was an elf.


    I still don¡¯t understand exactly what has happened. Why I am a ¡°bastard child¡± or why I was taken away from my mother. But I know that my new duck of a father has taken me from my mother and stolen my class.


    I let the anger through my mental blockade. I have a name. Everstar. And I also have whatever his class his, Blade Magnus. I¡¯m going to find him and get some answers.


    I wriggle around in my blankets in mock rage, flinging my tiny fists about in rage. After a bit, I get tired and my flailings cease.


    I just look up at the rider and my captor, and the night sky behind him. The moon peeks out through the dark clouds and I can make out the stars every once and awhile.


    I don¡¯t recognize any constellations.


    My former dad and I used to stargaze while camping. I can still remember it vividly, the smell of smoky wood as the campfire burns merrily. The forest preserve around us dark and the trees rustling with the passage of night critters and wind. Of the gooey s¡¯more I chomped down on while sitting next to my father, taking turns looking out the scope at the stars.


    Those were good memories, good times. Before he¡­ passed on.


    Now mom is all alone, and she¡¯ll walk into the house, angry from our argument about the party, only to find my body cooling on the wood floor and our valuables plundered.


    That is the final straw that breaks the camel¡¯s back, the flood gates opening and emotions rushing over me like a tidal wave.


    I start to cry.


    My captor shushes me, rocking me gently and whispering comforting words. They don¡¯t help. He doesn¡¯t understand why I am crying, can¡¯t understand. He doesn¡¯t know my pain.


    We continue on into the night, my captor riding the horse ragged. Eventually, I get tired of crying and just curl up, exhausted and broken.


    The hollowness in my chest remains, like a sinking pit.


    I¡¯m completely helpless to my captor¡¯s whims, just a infant unable to move properly, much less run.


    Soon, he slows the horse to a canter, then down to a slow walk. Pulling off the road, he stops in a small clearing.


    I watch as he dismounts, tying the horse¡¯s reins off to a tree branch. He moves around the animal towards me, reaching up to untie me from the horse.


    As he brings me down, I lash out one of my hands, my tiny, pudgy fist striking the man right between the eyes with the force of a gentle breeze.


    I gurgle in amusement as he the man rubs the spot.


    Maybe I can get used to this being a baby thing.


    All that flailing about wasn¡¯t for nothing, I¡¯d gotten the idea of how to rein in my body and control it proper. Though it is more spamming my muscles to do what I want more than control, and I have the accuracy of a drunk monkey.


    The green cloaked man straps myself to his chest, and starts unpacking a bag that was attached to the saddle of the horse. Bringing it over to a fallen tree, he sits down.


    Pulling out a piece of metal and what looks like flint, he sets it down next to us on the log. He unstraps me from his chest, resting my bundled up form against the log on the ground.


    My stomach gurgles in hunger as I stare at the man, watching as he goes around the clearing and edge of the forest, collecting sticks and wood.


    I it starts to slowly sink in. I¡¯m in a medieval world. That means no internet, toilet paper, or even pizza.


    For not the first time, I wonder if I should have taken Cereus¡¯s deal. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea, then again, I also wasn¡¯t connected to my emotions. Too late now.


    Watching idly as the man constructs a campfire, I start wiggling my fingers and trying to get them to obey me. It isn¡¯t easy.


    Once the man gets the fire going with his flint and steel, he moves back over to me. He checks on me, waving a finger in front of my a cooing baby noises.


    Don¡¯t patronize me, you¡¯ll live to regret it!


    I manage to get my left hand¡¯s fingers around his one giant one, and waggle it around in rage. I also try to bite it, but find that with only gums and nod teeth, all I¡¯m doing is amusing the made.


    Gurgling in anger and brooding, I watch as the man extracts a leather bladder filled with some kind of liquid from the bag. He pops the cap, sniffing it and then closing it again.


    He moves over to the fire, hovering the oiled leather pouch over the fire. It takes me a minute to figure out why he is doing it.


    He¡¯s heating it up.


    After a bit, he moves there bag away from the fire and comes back over, sitting down on the log.


    Picking me up, I finally get a clear view of the clearing. The forest is pushed back in a rough circle, the trunks cloaked in night. The fireplace throws moving shadows everywhere, providing light for several feet.


    The man uncorks the leather bladder and holds it up to my mouth.


    Uh, what are you doing? Don¡¯t bring that thing near me!


    Despite my whining, gurgling protests, the man pops it into my mouth, tipping it so a drizzle of what is inside flows into my mouth.


    It is a warm mixture with a rancid-like taste. I scrunch my face up and push at the man¡¯s hands. I choke on the foul substance, gagging at the taste.


    Ew, ew, ew! That is disgusting! You can keep whatever it is.


    He pulls the pouch filled with the evil substance away from my mouth, chuckling and saying in a lightly accented voice, ¡°Don¡¯t much like goat¡¯s milk? Too bad, though, kiddo. Ya¡¯ gotta eat something.¡±


    He brings the mouth of the leather bladder back up to my mouth and I gurgle in protest. I try and bat it away, but my mighty blows might as well be a feather.


    He pops bottle back in my mouth, the warm liquid streaming over my tongue and into my stomach. I force it down, glaring at him the whole time and trying not to gag.


    I start pushing on the bottle, or at least trying to, and the man extracts the nozzle from my mouth with a pop.


    Uuuuhhhg, I feel so full. And I want to barf.


    A burp wiggles its way up from my stomach, exploding from my lips.


    The man chuckles a little, bringing the bottle back up. I scrunch my neck up, trying to pull away from the leather pouch and its nozzle.


    If I throw up on you, it isn¡¯t my fault!


    He stops at the last moment, the nozzle hovering before me for a second, then he pulls it back, capping it. ¡°Not hungry anymore? Good.¡±


    The man sets me back down on the ground, off to his left.


    My captor stuffs the leather bladder back into his bag, pulling out a roll of wax paper and a flask. He unrolls the paper, pulling out a few strips of dried meat and a loaf of bread.


    Splitting the bread in half, he puts the rest of the food away.


    I glare the best I can at him, I flail my arms about a bit, trying to give him the bird.


    The man sits there, staring back at me and taking a bite of the salted and dried meat, ocasinaly taking a swig from his flask.


    I hope you choke on that bread.


    The man rips a bit of bread off the half loaf, popping it into his mouth. He looks my tiny form up and down, assessing. Then he says with a full mouth, flecks of chewed bread flinging out of his mouth, ¡°Ya¡¯ probably don¡¯t even understand me, but this is gonna¡¯ be a long trip, so might as well.¡±


    He holds out a his hand, ¡°I¡¯m Calter, though most call me Cal.¡±


    I try to reach out to grab his calloused hand, but my arm just flops around. Curse this body!


    I settle for trying to blow a raspberry at him, all I end up with is covering my chin with drool.


    The man shakes his back and forth, barks a laugh, and drops his hand. Going back to his meal, his gaze wanders to the fire.


    A yawn coaxes itself from my mouth, and I can sleepiness creeping up on me. God darn it! Why do I need to sleep so much?


    I glare at the man as my eyelids shut of their own volition and I fall into a deep sleep.


    ***


    I close my eyes, feeling the hollowness inside my chest.


    I¡¯m still not sure how, but I can reach my consciousness out, kind of like extending a third arm. It¡¯s like having an extra sense, an awareness of something, even if you can¡¯t see it, but the only problem is that I can¡¯t do it well.


    I can branch my mind out into my body with relative ease, but trying to push my mind¡¯s awareness out is like trying to push through molasses. I can feel that I can do it, it¡¯s just that I don¡¯t have enough skill or that I¡¯m doing something wrong.


    Moving my awareness to my heart, I get the faint impression of a empty hole, a hollowness, and strands of something tangled up in the center. It¡¯s not actually in my heart, but more like above it, in a different dimension. A space that isn¡¯t really there, but there.


    Or like a spiritual realm or something.


    I poke around the hollowness that is inside my chest, and can tell something is missing. Something vital. My Djinn.


    I¡¯ve been trying to puzzle out what exactly a djinn is for the past week, while my captor, Cal, having ridden his horse to near death the first two days, then calmed down after.


    We¡¯ve ridden through several villages, stopping in a few to resupply, the forest turning slowly into a more mountainous region as we go higher. Wherever he is taking me, it is quite far from where ever I was born.


    And he can¡¯t be bothered to buy anything other than goat¡¯s milk.


    I¡¯ve gained a new passion, that of despising anything goat related. Who in their right mind started milking bloody goats? Rancid, curdled milk would be preferable to the stuff!


    I go back to my probing.


    The sense that something has been ripped from me isn¡¯t the only thing I get when I explore the hollowness. There are some kind of strands, ropes, tied up in the center.


    This must be what is stopping me from making ¡°bonds¡± with more Djinn, as Tiron put it.


    I¡¯ve tried to unknot it, but it feels like there¡¯s a complex puzzle on top of the knot, like a lock. My attempts at unlocking whatever mechanism that holds it have been less than successful.


    I eventually got so tired of it that I started mentally bashing at it, and all that gave me was a headache.


    Having a headache while being a baby sucks! Felt like my entire brain was on fire.


    I crack open my eyes, peering out of the warm blanket bundle and to the bright, cold outside world. It¡¯s gotten increasingly frigid, the terrain becoming more rocky, the dark forest turning to coniferous trees.


    Cal speaks sometimes, thinking out loud perhaps. Whether he thinks he''s talking to me, himself or even the horse, I have no clue. But he sometimes talks about the world, and that information I greedly soak up like a sponge.


    ¡°You¡¯re a half elf, aren¡¯t ya? I can tell by the ears, even if they¡¯re small,¡± He says in a low tone, staring off into the distance, ¡°You¡¯ll not have an easy life, that¡¯s for sure. Ya¡¯ see, elves used to rule tha¡¯ world, before the Fractured Age¡­ Hah, look at me, talking to a freaken¡¯ baby. I must be going mad.¡±


    I gurgle, trying to encourage him on.


    He glances down, and shakes his head, ¡°I¡¯d swear you understand me, but that¡¯s ridiculous. Though¡­ before the Shattered Era, elves ruled over nearly the entirety of Akaron. Of course, they were split into several nations.


    Back then they used to go by a multitude of names, the elves I mean. There were the dusk elves, tree elves, high elves, sea elves, even freakin¡¯ dawn elves. Nowadays, they¡¯re all just called elves.¡± He looks down at me, adjusting the fur blanket around my face to better cover it against the frigid wind. ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re half dawn elf, got that bronze-like skin of theirs.¡±


    He adjusts his position on the saddle, sitting up a little straighter as his horse plods down the dirt path. ¡°Elves used to be everywhere, ¡®course there were humans too, and the dwarden, before they followed the same path as the Ancestors. Multitudes of races back then, hailed it as the Golden Era. But, back to tha¡¯ elves, they ruled Akaron, from the Storm Sea to the red cliffs of Hunrah. Their nations squabbled with each other, but never to the point of a war. A more peaceful time than now, it was.


    ¡°Then the Fracturing happened. Devastating enough to rival that of what the Ancestors did. It¡¯s said the humans got fed up with being the oppressed, ¡®cause the elves liked to keep ¡®em as slaves, and so they became the oppressors. ¡®Course, that wouldn¡¯t have happened without the start of the Fracturing, the opening of the Spirit Well.


    ¡°They say it lit up the night sky like the sun had come down to grace Akaron with its blazing fury. History speaks of the man that did it, the first Djinni. His real name, well, no one remembers it, just the title he went by; Tha¡¯ Revenant.


    ¡°He rose up against the elves, the rulers of the world, and overthrew them by using an army of Djinni, spirit warriors. Historians say that Revenant was slain several times in the ensuing war with tha¡¯ elves, but he always came back, somehow. ¡®Course, he won, at great cost. Millions died, but the elves¡¯ empires, alliances and nations were left as rubble, much like the Ancestors. Soon after, the Revenant, having led the human race to victory, placed himself as Emperor.


    ¡°I¡¯d say he was an arrogant bastard, selfish and craving power. Well, he got it. He had subjugated the whole of Akaron, through much bloodshed. People say that he¡¯d gone mad, but I don¡¯ think that to be true. He just got to big for his britches, his empire to vast to monitor.


    ¡°The generals, lieutenants and any number of official set themselves up as Nobles. Greedy, they were, and they weren¡¯t content to let the Revenant sit on the throne. So, years later, they rebelled. Their rebelling shook the empire to it¡¯s foundations, Fracturing it as Nobles fought against Nobles, tearing it apart.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Now, records speak of the Revenant, that he couldn¡¯t die. That his soul was immortal. Some think he was a god, others think his Djinn was the reason he was unkillable. Some even think he became a Djinn with a body because he was the one that opened the Spirit Well. Really, no one knows. The only thing known was he always came back from death, and was vastly powerful. So, when the Nobles rebelled, they made sure they had a way to subdue him.


    ¡°History speaks of them plotting for years on how to kill him. It is said they slayed him, with no small amount of effort, then wrent his soul into pieces, trapping them in vessels. Objects like crystals, swords, crowns, all manner of things. The nobles that slayed him scattered these Vessels all across the world, preventing the Revenant from ever coming back.


    ¡°¡®Course, it¡¯s all more legend than history, myth even. There ain¡¯t much proof that the Revenant ever existed, just that a powerful Djinni led a rebellion against the elven oppressors, and won. ¡®Just that after, the many human powers that came together Fractured into kingdoms and nations, all fighting over power over the others.


    ¡°But some believe that the vessels that contain fragments of the Revenant¡¯s power lie scattered and hidden, waiting to be used, to be completed. For me, though, I think it¡¯s a load of carp. Hah! What do you think of that, girlie?¡± He looks down at me, his brown eyes filled with humor and rocking me a little in the cradle of furs and blankets.


    I gurgle back at him, unable to tell him that I want him to take me back. Or to at least know where he is taking me. Though that was a pretty interesting story. At least I know something about where I am.


    That tale got me thinking. If the Revenant,came back from death every time, was he something like me? A person who got a chance to be reborn, only revived several times instead?


    What exactly is this ¡®Spirit Well¡¯, and how does it connect with the Djinn?


    Cal stays silent for several hours, idly scanning the surroundings while I tried to push my mind past the boundaries of my body.


    He speaks after a while, the sky having darkened significantly. My captor looks down at me, his brow scrunching up, ¡°I know you¡¯re an Everstar bastard, but did the lord make you a Djinni before he sent you off? He did take a bit of time with you before giving ya¡¯ to me.¡±


    The man rummages in a pocket concealed in his cloak, pulling out a glove.


    It¡¯s made of thick worn leather, the fingers having been cut off. What makes it interesting is the half crystal that rests on the back of the hand, symbols spiraling around it.


    ¡°It¡¯s been bothering me, why he would let you go. I¡¯d have half expected him to off ya¡¯ right when ya¡¯ were born, so that you wouldn¡¯t be a threat to him in the future.¡± Cal pulls the glove on his right hand, flexing his fingers.


    He extracts one of my hands from the blankets. Curious of what he¡¯s doing, I let him touch my hand to the crystal on the glove.


    I watch as my status screen springs to life in front of Cal, the man looking it over.


    Status:


    Name: Kara Suntec Everstar


    Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf


    Gender: Female


    Age: 0


    Djinn:


    N/A


    Statistics:


    CON: 1


    STR: 1


    DEX: 1


    INT: 1


    ARC: N/A


    Free Perk Points: 0


    Skills:


    N/A


    My captor looks puzzled, and shakes his head. ¡°So you are a Djinni, just not one with a Djinn? Strange, even stranger that he would make you one, and your Arcane is messed up. I¡¯d have expected ya¡¯ to have a blood-bound djinn, like the Lord¡¯s. Though, that is probably the reason ya¡¯ aren¡¯t dead now.¡±


    I gurgle at the man, waving my hands about and kicking my legs a bit. He takes off the glove, the status page disappearing from the air. Stuffing it back into his cloak, he enshrouds me in the blankets again, insulating me from the cold.


    So I¡¯m a Djinni? One of the spirit warriors? I guess that kind of makes sense.


    Cal glances at me, ¡°I suppose you¡¯re lucky, even if ya¡¯ don¡¯t got a Djinn. Most folks nowadays can¡¯t afford the cost of the ceremony. In the old days, back when the Well was first opened, they just dunked people in it and they¡¯d get a Djinn, requiring of course that they survived it. Then the Djinni made the Ceremony of Binding, which only requires some fancy rune scripting and ya¡¯ be near a Spirit Fissure. Then, bam! Ya¡¯ got yerself a Djinn and are considered a Djinni.¡±


    Now, that is useful to know. Even if I don¡¯t got a Djinn of my own now, and can¡¯t get one. It means that Djinni aren''t common.


    I eye the pocket he put the glove in. If he has one of those strange crystals that reveal the status screen, does that make him a Djinni too?


    Almost like he read my mind, Cal says, ¡°Not to worry, though girlie. ¡®Cause ol¡¯ Cal here is a Djinni too. I ain¡¯t anything quite as special as Lord Everstar, of course. Just a Vermillion Metalmancer. Nothing gonna hurt us out here with me around.¡±


    I¡¯m a man, god damn it! Not a¡­ girl.


    He doesn¡¯t elaborate further, and I glare at him, gurgling at him in annoyance. I close my eyes, going back to the only source of entertainment I have. Trying to figure out how to unlock the strands and push my awareness out of my body.


    Time goes by, we stop for the night, Cal building a large fire and rolling out a bed roll. He feeds me the evil goat¡¯s milk again, munches on some of his rations and goes to sleep with me bundled up in the crook of his arm.


    The first few times he slept with me in the bed roll, I pitched a fit. Eventually, I got tired of it and stopped. The fact that the climate continues to get colder the further we travel also contributed to the fact that I stopped complaining. But I still don¡¯t like it.


    I stare up at the night sky, only a few clouds insight. It¡¯s so much brighter than from when I lived on earth. No light pollution to block out the stars.


    And strangely, the air feels cleaner too.


    It wasn¡¯t something I noticed before, probably because I¡¯d grown up in the suburbs. Out here, on this world wherever it is, there isn¡¯t any pollution. The night sky is crystal clear, the stars shining alongside the moon like light bulbs.


    It¡¯s beautiful.


    I shift around a little, not feeling the need to sleep, having already slept a while ago. The long journey that we have been going on has worn my complaints down, mostly because I can¡¯t voice any.


    I hate being a baby. Who knew it sucked so much.


    I¡¯d still not exactly come to terms with my less than ideal departure from earth. And my arriving here.


    This is like a bad gender bender fiction, I don¡¯t want to be a girl!


    My complaints go unheard, and I go back to exploring this strange awareness I have of my tiny body.


    Soon after that, I fall into a restless sleep.


    ***


    I yawn, my toothless gums snapping together as I feel the galloping of the horse.


    I¡¯m not sure, but I think it has been about a week an 3 days, though time blends together. My frequent power naps don¡¯t help keep track of time either.


    Cal has been his silent self, occasionally checking on me. I still don¡¯t have a lick of a clue where he is taking me, but from what Everstar said, it¡¯s on the ¡°fringes of civilization¡±.


    A dot of cold strikes the tip of my nose, and I blink, my eyes going crossed as I look at my button of a nose. A small drop of water rests on it.


    I look at the sky, dark gray clouds cover it all, not a hint of blue anywhere. Dots of white slowly drift down from the sky, twirling in the air.


    Cal watches one of the dots pass by, ¡°It¡¯s snowing. Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t turn to a blizzard, eh girlie?¡±


    I gurgle in annoyance. I swear, if you call me girlie one more time, I¡¯m going to barf on you the next time you force feed me that vile milk.


    I watch idly as the snowfall increases, fat snowflakes drifting past us and sticking to the cold ground. It has been getting increasingly frigid, our elevation increasing rather drastically. The trees have gotten more sparse and the landscape more rocky.


    I can see a ridge of mountains above us, though it¡¯s hard to make out from my angle and the fact that I¡¯m a baby and god darn it, turning your head is hard.


    The horse, with us on its back, continues to trudge forwards along the winding and snaking path. We have started climbing into a pass between two rather large, jagged mountains.


    I¡¯m interrupted from my idle pondering philosophical thoughts on the world, the meaning of life and why I am even here by Cal.


    ¡°Almost there, just a mile or two,¡± He says in a hushed whisper. I gurgle at him my annoyance of being interrupted from my thoughts.


    He glances down and looks back up, holding the reins of the horse in one hand as he carefully guides it up the rocky slope. ¡°You¡¯ve been a rather well behaved child. More so than I thought you would. And I¡¯d swear, you understand at least part of what I say.¡±


    Yes, I understand you perfectly. And you smell, your looks are more average than average and you are finally getting that I have been insulting you this entire trip. Is what I want to say, but my vocal chords don¡¯t cooperate, along with the fact that I don¡¯t have teeth, so I end up gurgling something that sounds like ¡®birche¡¯.


    I¡¯ve come a long way in motor control skills, but I am far from mastery. I can move my fingers, but not independently, so I am a far ways off from being able to give Cal the bird.


    I¡¯m interrupted once again, this time during my practice of raising my tiny, pudgy middle finger.


    There is a growling, and I watch over Cal¡¯s shoulder as a mass of fur leaps off a rocky ledge we just passed. It is massive, and a roar ripples through the air as the blur crashes into the back end of the horse.


    Me and Cal are flung from the horse, my captor scrambling to grab me and protect me. We crash into a bank of thin snow, Cal rolling up to protect my small fragile form.


    My ears are filled with a horrid screaming, the horse shrieking it¡¯s pain.


    Once my eyes stop spinning in my cranium and Cal rolls over, I get a look at what has attacked us.


    It looks similar to a brown bear, the massive head and paws, thick brown fur and rippling muscles. But that¡¯s where the similarities end. It has six large, powerful legs tipped in four razor sharp claws. Four of those legs are upper limbs, with two hind legs. Its muscles ripple under its thick hide and fur, and it is covered in what appears to be thick plates of stone, almost like armor. The stone plates run along its back, encasing the upper half of its head and its six limbs, the underside devoid of them.


    The thing is slicing into our horse, the beast carving it up and smashing it into the ground with a spit flecked roar.


    The poor horse lays broken on the ground, its guts hanging out as its horrible screeches fill the air. It kicks its back legs in vain, flailing on the ground.


    With a roar, the beast slams one of its massive paws into the horse¡¯s head, a crack and crunch resounding. The horse falls quite, steam rising in the air from its cooling corpse.


    Cal gasps, cradling me in his arms as he crawls back.


    My eyes are riveted to the beast.


    What in god¡¯s name is that thing?


    My captor whispers one pained word, ¡°Ursa!¡±


    He scrambles to his feet, cradling me to his chest in the crook of his arm. He quickly throws the strap that kept me attached to the horse over his back, letting me fall to his chest like some kind of bandolier.


    The ursa looks up from its meal at us, its maw dripping blood and the fur of its muzzle stained crimson. It looks at us with rage and hunger.


    A involuntary wail worms itself from my throat as the beast notices us. Eat Cal first!


    The ursa hops off the corpse of the horse, slowly stalking forward, its breaths billowing out in white clouds.


    Cal takes several steps back, then stops and glances back, grimacing. Behind us is a steep drop off, trees clinging to the frozen soil on the side of the mountain.


    We¡¯re trapped. Dread fills my tiny body, and I gurgle in fear.


    Cal takes a step towards the right, then another, slowly moving as the ursa cautiously approaches us. I stay quiet out of fear, afraid that if I make a noise, the beast will charge us.


    Cal¡¯s breathing has steadied out, and he stars at the ursa calmly as he slowly shuffles in a semi circle. The ursa follows us, a roar building in its throat.


    The snow is now in a flurry, wind whipping at us and blowing drafts of snow over the edge of the forested cliff. I can feel my cheeks reddening from the cold, but also the blood draining from it.


    The ursa lets out a roar, pounding the ground and launching itself towards us, with surprising speed for its size.


    Cal immediately tumbles into a roll, jumping towards the dead horse.


    The world spins and comes back upright as Cal lands on his feet, launching himself over to the cooling corpse. He immediately reaches towards the saddle bags.


    I watch as the massive shadow of the ursa looms behind us.


    Cal wrenches himself to the left, barely ducking under a massive swing of the beast¡¯s paw.


    Coming back to his feet, he scrambles around the corpse of the horse, using it as a barrier.


    The ursa lets loose another roar, bloodied saliva raining down from the air and its sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. The snow sticks to the beast¡¯s stone plate armor, but melts when it touches its fur, covering it a blast of white.


    Cal curses profusely, running to the right along the ground, my tiny body bouncing against his chest.


    The ursa leaps over the body of the horse, landing with a ground shaking thump and air splitting roar. It turns to face us, Cal now standing several feet away from the horse.


    He snarls, ¡°Come and get me ugly.¡±


    I gurgle at him in desperation. Don¡¯t taunt it!


    The stone plated beast roars, leaping forwards at us, four of its paws raised in the air to come crashing down on us.


    Time seems to slow, the bear like monster moving through the air, the snow whipping by slowly. My eyes widen in horror as the beast¡¯s shadow looms over us.


    Cal bursts into action, rolling to the right and out of the path of the ursa. He hops to his feet, launching himself at the horse¡¯s corpse, making a mad dash for the saddle bags.


    The ursa comes down on the dirt path with a tremendous crash, fur and claws flashing in the cloud of snow that explodes outwards from its landing spot. A roar of outrage rips from its throat as it turns, preparing to charge us again.


    Cal darts his hand into the saddle bag, tearing open the straps of the leather bag. Black metal shards spill out, glinting and falling into the puddle of crimson that surrounds the horse.


    I can¡¯t help but let out a wail as the ursa charges us, a grutal roar tearing through the frigid, snow air.


    Cal holds his shaking hands over the metal shards, uttering strange words in quick succession. The shards seem to gleam with a silvery light as he finishes.


    He thrusts his hands out towards the ursa, screaming, ¡°KEEL!¡±


    The shards shake, and I watch in slow motion as they lift from the ground, floating in the air for a second. Then they launch forwards in a deadly, spiky pillar of metal.


    The stone plated ursa and the whirlwind of dark metal shards crash into each other, sparks flying. Most of the spikes spark off its stony hide, but a few lodge themselves between the cracks and deep into its flesh.


    The ursa stumbles, a scream-like roar ripping itself from the beasts snout.


    Cal leaps back, waving his hands as he tries to desperately put distance between us and the ursa. But he isn¡¯t fast enough.


    The ursa throws a massive right paw out blindly, the thing whistle through the air and sending the snowflakes into a furry.


    It crashes into Cal¡¯s shoulder with a sickening crunch, and I can feel the massive amount of force as it ripples through Cal. We go flying through the air, flung halfway across the road.


    Cal screams in pain, rolling on the ground. We stop just short of the rocky ledge into white oblivion.


    The snow storm has picked up, large flurries of snow whipping across the mountain side.


    Cal crawls to his feet, gritting his teeth and raising his right arm, his left hanging limp. He twists his hand into a claw, whipping it around.


    The metal shards come flying, hovering up from the ground and fling towards us. They twirl around us in a dark, deadly steel whirlwind.


    The ursa is bleeding now, from a dozen deep gashes, dark shards lodged in its hide. Chinks of stone are in its armor, and some metal spikes are embedded in the stone plating.


    It stares at us warily, blood flowing freely from a gash in its head. It lets out a roar, raising up on its back legs and bringing itself up to its full height.


    It towers over us at about 12 feet, snow flowing around it.


    The ursa brings itself back down, smashing its paws into the earth with a crash. I watch in horror as the earth cracks and spikes of stone hurl themselves at us.


    Cal whips his arm around, the metal shards flying in front of us. They clink together, forming a thick shield of metal.


    There is a screech of metal being ripped, and I watch as several stone spikes punch partially through the tight knit shield of metal shards, stopping only a few inches from us.


    Holy cow!


    Cal grits his teeth, flinging his arm forwards.


    The shield unlocks itself, the metal shards flying forwards. They rip through the snowy air at the ursa, only this time the beast is ready.


    It roars, shifting itself to take the brunt of the attack on its shoulder, the shards sparking off and only leaving chinks in its thick armor.


    The ursa growls, taking several steps back as the swarm of metal shards flies back towards us, twirling behind Cal and flinging forwards over his broken shoulder.


    They rip through the snow, the air whistling with their passage.


    The ursa lets loose another rage filled roar, and starts retreating. It quickly turns tail, running back the way we came, its lumbering form disappearing into the snowy storm.


    Cal brings his right hand up, curling it into a fist. The shards stop instantly, then he jerks his hand back, and the fling towards us.


    He¡¯s gasping for breath, his green cloak wet with snow and mud, blood streaming down his limp left arm from the gash torn into his shoulder.


    We won! We actually won!


    The dark shards hover around us, the bitter cold wind whipping the snow in our faces and around us. Cal stumbles towards the corpse of the horse, his breathing falling into a rhythm.


    I take everything back Cal, you¡¯re freaking awesome!


    I try to gurgle my appreciation and thanks, but Cal ignores me.


    He starts rummaging through the bloody saddle bags, his breaths short and in quick gasps of pain as he jolts his left arm around. He unstraps the ration bag, unhooking the flap with shaky, numb fingers.


    The shards gently float over, their points facing upwards. They glint with a silvery aura as they coalesce above the bag, and slowly lower themselves inside it.


    They tinkle and clink together as they fall inside the backpack, and Cal lets out a gasp of relief as he lets go of control.


    The dark shards stop glinting with the silvery light as Cal¡¯s control over them lapses. He buttons the leather bag up.


    He grits his teeth as he stands up, cradling his arm to his chest along with me. Moving back to the saddle bags, he grabs a rolled up blanket from one of the bags, unrolling it with a swoosh.


    He pulls out a knife from a sheath on his belt, and stars cutting the blanket up hurriedly. Soon, he has fashioned a crude sling for his arm, along with a bandage for his shoulder.


    Damn, he¡¯s like some kind of rambo or something.


    Cal swings the strap of my bandolier over his shoulder, setting me gently down on the ground. He wraps the sling around his arm, tightening it so his arm is cradled close to his chest.


    I watch as he shakily wraps the bandage around the gash in his broken shoulder, tying it off and pulling it tight with a groan of pain. I watch as the brown of the blanket quickly stains crimson, a blossom of red appearing on it.


    Cal stoops down, picking me up with his good arm. He puts the leather straps back over his right shoulder, strapping me to his chest like a carrier. He wraps the green, soggy cloak around me, offering minimal protection against the bitter wind.


    He barks out a laugh, looking down at me, ¡°You¡¯ll have a quite a tale to tell, and me the scars to prove it, aye?¡±


    Moving over to where he left the bag full of metal shards, he loops an arm through it and swings it onto his back with a grunt of pain.


    Cal starts trudging through the snow, following the road up. The blizzard has gotten so bad that we can only see a few feet in front of us.


    He whispers something to me that makes my heart run colder than the snow whipping into our faces, ¡°It¡¯ll be back, it''s probably watching us right now, licking its wounds. Working up the courage for another attack.¡±


    I can see Cal¡¯s eyes darting around, back and forth, scanning the snow cloaked mountainous forest. His eyes are hard, a steel will showing through them.


    It¡¯s hunting us? Fear bites at my heart, and I can¡¯t help but feel even more helpless. I¡¯m trapped in the body of a baby, not even able to speak much less help. My life is entirely in Cal¡¯s hands.


    Cal speaks again, whether it is it me or to himself, I¡¯m not sure. ¡°A cave to hide in is out of the question. The Jagged Maw doesn¡¯t have many, and it isn¡¯t safe to stay out here with the ursa about. Our only option is Carlisle, it¡¯s only a mile or two up the road. But the blizzard is going to make it harder,and there¡¯s no telling where the ursa is going to come from.¡±


    He trudges through the quickly building up snow, the ground now covered in several inches of the white powder. His teeth chatter in the cold, and he hugs me close, trying to keep me warm.


    The cold is biting, worming its way down to the marrow of my bones. It¡¯s at times like these I would kill for a warm fireplace mantle and a cup of hot chocolate. But I¡¯d be lucky to find a fireplace, much less hot choco.


    Cal walks against the whipping wind, his thick wool cloak pulled tight and his eyes squinted against the flying snow. The bag full of dark shards clinks everytime he takes a step forward, the wind howling it¡¯s outrage at us as it tries to launch us over the edge of the path.


    Call mutters under his breath, ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you have been born in the summer, girlie?¡±


    I force a gurgle out. Hey, I didn¡¯t choose to be reborn into this body.


    We trudge on through the blizzard, jagged rocks looming out of the snow and vanishing back in as we climb alongside of the mountain. I keep my eyes peeled along with Cal for any sign of the ursa.


    Maybe it gave up because of the snow storm.


    Cal keeps me close to his chest, making sure I am protected against the worst of the storm.


    He says through chattering teeth, ¡°You¡¯re most definitely not a normal child. Any other baby would be bawling its eyes out by now, not being silent. If we make it through this, I¡¯m going to sleep for a bloody year.¡±


    A strong gust of wind hits us straight on, and Cal stumbles, nearly losing his balance but catching himself at the last second. He continues to push onwards, through the now knee high snow drifts.


    I can barely see five feet in front of us, the snow whipping past at a blur.


    Cal continues to speak, and I realise that he is trying to keep himself awake, his eyes drooping dangerously. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t I have been a Flamemancer, or even a Fire Magnus? Maybe an Elementalist? No, I just had to get the Metalmancy Djinn.¡±


    I look at his bandaged shoulder. His cloak is covered in snow, and I can see a massive dark stain over his shoulder. The makeshift bandage is barely keeping the blood loss above fatal, and the cold is taking a heavy effect on him. He won¡¯t be able to go for much longer.


    We¡¯re going to die, aren¡¯t we?


    I don¡¯t want to die, not for a second time. The first time was horrible enough, being murdered is nearly as bad as freezing to death.


    A massive, dark shape looms out of the white screen of snow in front of us, and for a second I fly into a moment of panic. Then it is revealed to be a wooden log spiked wall, a wooden plank gate shut tight.


    Cal breathes a breathless whisper, ¡°Carlisle.¡±


    A shape appears over the wall, a torch¡¯s flame whipping in the frigid wind. They shout something, but it is torn away by the wind.


    Suddenly, the ground shakes with a mighty roar.


    Cal turns around, the hulking form of the ursa lumbering out of the snow behind us. It is blazing towards us at a full charge, its six thick legs pounding into the ground.


    Cal¡¯s eyes widen, and he starts sprinting towards the gate.


    The guard up on the wall is waving and screaming, urging us on.


    The ground shakes with each bound of the ursa, it¡¯s size letting it cut through the snow. It¡¯s gaining ground on us, barely a few feet away.


    Cal is in a dead sprint, pushing against the bitter wind and the knee deep snow, his face twisted in pain.


    The one of the doors of the wooden gate swings open, revealing a fur clothed guard holding it open. The guard up on the wall is shouting and waving desperately.


    Cal¡¯s gasps come breathless, his chest heaving.


    Time seems to slow as I watch over his shoulder, the ursa a mere foot from us. It¡¯s powerful legs slam into the snowy, frozen ground, the corded muscle rippling under the shinked stone plates and fur. I watch as it bunches up, and with explosive force, launches itself forward into a snarling leap.


    Cal lets loose a roar of his once, bounding forward through the snow. We are feet away from the gate.


    He bounces into a slide, tumbling through the gate.


    The ursa lands in a cloud of snow, roaring its rage. The wooden gate slams closed, a solid wood bar falling down over it. I watch as it nearly caves in with a crack, the ursa smashing into the gate.


    The guards rush about, pushing back on the gate to reinforce it. The wind carries on it the bloodthirsty, rage induced roars of the ursa.


    I can see guards up on the walls dipping arrows in flaming cans of oil, lighting the tips on fire. They launch them in volleys over the wall, directed near the gate.


    I watch as the gate cracks, a sliver of wood splintering off as the ursa wails on the wood.


    Cal scrambles away form the door, clutching me close and gasping.


    There is one final grutal roar, then the pounding on the gate stops. Another roars comes over the wall, this one more distant as the ursa gives up pursuit of us.


    Cal barks out a harsh laugh, looking at me in sheer relief, ¡°We made it! We made it.¡±


    His head falls back into the mush brown snow of the village, lolling about as he loses consciousness.


    I can only think of one thing. Hah! Look who¡¯s falling asleep now!

 Chapter 3 1/3

    I yawn, stretching my arms above my head.


    Reaching over, I bring my hand down on my alarm.


    When my fingers brush against a wooden wall instead of a alarm, my eyes snap open.


    I go to sit up, but all I end up doing is wiggling my legs and arms around. I try and roll over to see what is wrong with me, but all I do is rock.


    Then reality comes rushing back.


    Right, baby.


    I close my eyes, taking a few calming breaths. Once I have gotten used to the feeling of being trapped in my body, I open my eyes.


    A face is hovering over me.


    I glare at the pale face of Cal, his sharp features and brown stubble all too familiar. He reaches down, holding out a finger. ¡°You have a nice dream, girlie?¡±


    Promptly, I grab onto his finger and commence chomping on it, trying to chew it off in contempt. Don¡¯t call me girlie. Feel my gummy wrath!


    He grunts, picking me up with his good arm.


    After we had escaped the ursa and gotten safely in the town, Cal and I were brought into a house. The village head¡¯s house to be exact.


    Cal wasn¡¯t in good shape, and was incoherent for the past day, so they had stuck him in a bed and sent for the physician. They patched him up, ¡°only with a bit of frostbite and a nasty scar¡± as he put it when they were done.


    Somehow, impossibly, he is walking up. Of course, he looks incredibly sick and tired. He winces as he picks me up, keeping his bad arm in the sling the physician put it in.


    Well, if he can control metal, I suppose it isn¡¯t impossible that he has increased regentive powers.


    A image of dear old daddy¡¯s cut hand slowly knitting back together comes to mind. Though definitely not as advanced as that.


    Cal limps out of the small corner that my cradle was resting in and over into the main living room. A large, square fire pit rests in the center, the smoke wafting away into the rafters and seeping through the thatch that makes up the roof.


    The village head¡¯s house is by far the largest, with three rooms. One used as his family¡¯s bedroom and the other for storage. The third is the largest, being what I would guess is the ¡°living¡± room.


    Wooden log pillars rest at weight bearing places around the room, aligned with each of the four corners. Benches sit around the fireplace, a kettle being licked at by the flames. Shadows are thrown over the walls, which makes the village head¡¯s face look even older.


    He looks up as we approach. Standing up, he motions to a bench to the left.


    ¡°Please, sit. We have much to discuss. Would you like some tea?¡± he asks in a homely tone.


    Cal nods.


    Grabbing the handle of the kettle with a mitt, he sets it down and shuffles away into the house. Coming back shortly, he puts down two wooden cups and pours them full of tea.


    He sets one down next to Cal, sitting back down and wrapping his hands around the wooden cup. The village chief is a middle aged man, his blonde hair streaked with gray and his face craggy, his skin tough from constant cold.


    He looks Cal in the eyes, ¡°I¡¯ll not beat around the bush. What brings one of the Djinni all the way up here? With a baby, no less.¡±


    Cal bounces me on his knee and I gurgle at him to stop. He takes a sip of the steaming tea, smacking his lips and saying finally, ¡°You can tell?¡±


    The elder snorts and motions at Cal, ¡°If the bag of metal wasn¡¯t a hint, you standing a day later is proof enough.¡±


    Cal shrugs, ¡°I¡¯ve invested a bit into Constitution.¡±


    The chief glares at Cal, ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°That ursa, biggest one I¡¯ve ever seen. Most aggressive one too, and out during the winter, no less. Brazen bastard too, attacked us on the road just a few miles from here. Has it been attacking all the travelers headed this way?¡± Cal says, deflecting the question. I gurgle, trying to force my vocal chords to cooperate so I can tell the village chief that I¡¯ve been kidnapped. It¡¯s all for naught, though.


    The chief nods, ¡°Aye. Just a couple days ago, attacked a messenger. Tore him up good too, could barely recognize his crest, and the message was all but ruined. Crag¡¯s been attacking any travelers of the roads around here, setting up his territory.¡±


    Cal nods slowly, ¡°Crag?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the guards are calling him, saying he¡¯s got a thick, craggy stone hide and is a crank. Crag the crank.¡±


    Cal leans forward a bit, covering a wince, ¡°Well, that messenger was carrying the announcement of my coming here. It would have told you that I have been posted here for the definite future, so that Carlisle is ensured on its protection.¡±


    The village head raises an eyebrow, leaning back and taking a sip of tea, ¡°Now, why¡¯s that?¡±


    Cal stays silent for a second, sipping from his tea. I stare between the two, quite interested in this conversation. Cal speaks after a minute of tense silence, ¡°Carlisle is on the border with Sosian, and the kingdom wants to ensure it is properly manned.¡±


    The chief sits back, waving at me, ¡°And the baby? I can guess what this is. You were exiled, so, whatcha ya do?¡±


    Cal keeps his features schooled, ¡°Soma would like to ensure that the border with Sosian is properly watched. My past is of no importance.¡±


    The chief shrugs, ¡°I suppose it¡¯s not important. But I¡¯ll tell you, folks ¡®round here don¡¯t take kindly to strangers, especially when they¡¯re Djinni. So, I¡¯d watch yourself, and that half-child of yours. They most definitely aren¡¯t gonna like her.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Not like? Cal did say that elves weren¡¯t well liked.


    ¡°Are you threatening me?¡± Cal asks, tensing up.


    The chief shakes his head, pouring himself another cup of tea. ¡°No, ¡®course not. The people around here don¡¯t like you Djinni for the fact that bad things always follow where your kind walks. Nothing good can come of exiling one all the way up here. And the stigma around elves has risen quite a bit recently, what with the rebellion.¡±


    A rebellion? Like rebels?


    Cal nods and takes a sip of the tea, setting it down next to him on the bench. He cradles me in his arm, but looks the chief straight in the eyes, ¡°That is fine, I never expected to be welcomed with open arms, especially here. All I need is a cabin away from your village and I¡¯ll not bother you. But if you ever threaten me or this child, I will make sure that before I die, you¡¯re coming with me to the Black Gate.¡±


    The blonde haired man gulps and nods stiffly, he takes a sip of tea, breathing slowly and watching Cal¡¯s every move.


    Dang, Cal¡¯s ballsy. I hope this doesn¡¯t come back to bite us. What¡¯s the Black Gate?


    Despite the fact that Cal is acting as my captor, I can¡¯t help but like him. He doesn¡¯t seem to want me dead, quite the opposite if our interaction with that whatever ursa is any proof.


    Cal sits back, his expresion losing its hostility. He takes another sip of the tea, and I watch the chief closely. He glances between me and Cal, nervous. Probably wants us out of his hair.


    Cal speaks after a few moments of awkward silence, ¡°So, Crag. How long has he been attacking people on the road?¡±


    The chief thinks for a minute, then says, ¡°About a month. Came down from the mountains around the first snowfall, and has been stalking the wilds ever since. It¡¯s a good thing that he didn¡¯t arrive earlier, or our hunters wouldn¡¯t have been able to gather any food for the winter. But the way it¡¯s looking, we¡¯re gonna be running short.¡±


    ¡°And you haven¡¯t tried to send for help because he¡¯s cut you off,¡± Cal nods, sipping from the steaming cup of tea.


    The chief shrugs, ¡°Wouldn¡¯t matter if we could. Just ¡®cause we are one of the farthest towns, doesn¡¯t mean Everstar cares about a problem with an ursa. As long as he gets his metals, he couldn¡¯t care less.¡±


    Cal looks up, ¡°And the ursa blocking the metals from getting out isn¡¯t a problem?¡±


    ¡°We only send a shipment every two months, the paths up here are treacherous during the winter. We stick to the quota and make sure enough black steel is dug up and shipped off to him.¡±


    Cal nods slowly, ¡°Carlisle is a mining town, correct? You dig up black steel?¡±


    ¡°Aye, tha¡¯ mountain ridges are chock full of it, if you know where to look. Make a decent wage off the stuff we dig up, with minimal risk of the Ancestors¡¯ wrath.¡±


    Cal tilts his head a little to the left, his eyes locking again on the chief, who is looking anywhere but at us. ¡°The Ancestor''s wrath?¡±


    The chief nods slowly, a haunted expresion coming over his face. ¡°Yes, if we are not careful, the spirits will get angry with us. We¡¯ve lost many good men to the mines. It can be dangerous, but if yer careful, you can survive.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying some of the ruins are still active?¡±


    The chief nods, ¡°Aye.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. Back to Crag,¡± Cal waves his hand, taking a sip of tea, ¡°Did you open anymore mines recently?¡±


    The village head thinks for a second, then speaks, ¡°¡®bout a month ago we stumbled across a new vein. Mined it a bit and accidently opened one of the Ancestors¡¯ tombs. The miners, being greedy fools, decided to take a look around. Disturbed the Ancestors, they did, and they ran back to here. Lost one, though. You think Crag has something to do with this?¡±


    Cal rocks me a little in his arm, thinking, ¡°Perhaps. Did they take anything?¡±


    The chief nods, standing up and shuffling out of the fire light. There¡¯s a creak of hinges as he opens up the storage room, disappearing inside. After a few minutes, he comes out, shutting the door behind him. Shuffling up to Cal, he holds out his hand.


    In his palm glints a scoffed bracelet of iron. Embedded in the center of it is a purple gem, glinting in the firelight. Strange silver scrawlings cover the surface of the iron, swirling around the gem.


    Cal winces as he uses his bad arm to pick up the bracelet gingerly, inspecting it in the orange light. The small purple gem embedded in the iron seems to glow with a hidden power.


    This is strange. Cal knows something, and what could these ruins be that are ¡®active¡¯? Strange word choice.


    The chief speaks up again after a minute, ¡°The fool miners say they snooped around a bit, then they heard screams. Old Gert was found dead near the entrance, with that bracelet on his wrist. The miners grabbed it and ran. Didn¡¯t even bother looking back, they told me.¡±


    Cal looks concerned, his brow furrowed as his eyes scan the bracelet. ¡°And they gave this to you?¡±


    The chief shrugs, ¡°Well, no, sir. I bought it from them, as a gift to my wife for our anniversary. But¡­¡±


    I can¡¯t keep my eyes off the purple gem, the spirals of strange symbols undulating around it.


    My captor looks up from the bracelet, setting it down in his lap next to me. ¡°But what?¡±


    The chief sighs, rubbing his brow, ¡°It¡¯s a strange thing. I just get the chills from it, might be the Ancestors. I decided it best to not give it away, just locked it in a chest and left it there. Though¡­ sometimes I swear I hear it calling for me. Wanting me to put it on.¡±


    With intense focus, I look at the metal bracelet, reaching out one of my hands to grab it up. I¡¯m not listening to Cal¡¯s conversation, my attention riveted on the strange jewel.


    I move it clumsily around in my hands, the bracelet far too large for me.


    ¡°It calls to you?¡±


    The chief nods, ¡°Aye. I hear it whispering to me in my dreams. ¡®Course, I know better than to listen to such a thing. I was going to sell it down in Lindow, but then Crag started attacking travelers.¡±


    My tiny fingers brush the purple jewel, and I can feel something. Like a broken piece, something very similar to the longing I feel when I touch the hollowness in my chest.


    ¡°Did the miners tell you anything about how Gert died?¡± Cal asks with concern.


    The chief taps his chin, ¡°I think they said his eyes were glazed, and crying blood. Along with his nose, his face twisted in pain. Like his brain liquified. Do you know what could do that to a man?¡±


    I stare at the purple gem, looking into its crystalline depths. I can sense something in there, something calling to me. Something to fill the hollowness left behind by my Djinn being removed.


    Cal shrugs, ¡°I¡¯ve no clue. Perhaps it was the Ancestors, or something else.¡±


    Looking intently into the gem¡¯s  depths, I think I see something move inside it.


    At that moment, Cal looks down. He takes the bracelet from my hands, and I whine at him, reaching out for it. I need that!


    He looks down at me in confusion, but keeps the bracelet, holding it up in front of the chief. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I think I should hold onto this. Just till we figure out what it is, and if its dangerous.¡±


    The chief looks regretful, but nods. ¡°So, yer thinking that Crag has something to do with the mine?¡±


    Cal shakes his head, ¡°No, seems unlikely. Just a coincidence. But back to business. I need a place to stay.¡±


    The chief takes a sip of his now cool tea, ¡°I think I can arrange some accommodations for you, but it isn¡¯t going to be quality, and it will take sometime. It¡¯ll be on the edge of the village, about half a mile.¡±


    Cal nods, bowing with me in his arms. ¡°Thank you, if you don¡¯t mind, I think I should rest for a while more. Wake me when you get our accommodations in order.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll get right to it.¡±


    I gurgle in annoyance, my desire for the bracelet fading.


    Cal walks back to the corner of the room, laying me back down in the wooden crib. He pockets the bracelet, groaning as he falls back into the fur covered bed.


    I blink, yawning. What was that? I¡¯m going to have to be careful around that bracelet. It was like it was trying to control me.


    My eyelids fall down, and I find myself falling asleep soon after.

 Chapter 3 2/3

    ***


    I stare out idly at the white snow covered trees. My small form is bundled up tightly, the heat contained by the multitude of blankets.


    The snow crunching under Cal¡¯s boots is rhythmic, a pattern of one two, one two.


    I can see where we are headed. Having walked from the village up the gentle slope of the mountain, we have arrived.


    The mountain to the back of the village acts as a sort of natural defense, so there are only two entrance into the village. One going down the mountain, and another following the trail further up it and into the Jagged Maw.


    A cabin coated in a layer of snow rests up against the rocky surface of the mountain, nestled in a grove of pine trees. It¡¯s hidden from the sight of the village, out of the way and private.


    It isn¡¯t a big thing, a section protruding from the left side, adding on a room. The dark, aged and weather worn wood stands out against the harsh white of the snow that covers the roof and surrounds it. Two shuttered windows flank the door, a roofed porch jutting out over the front with two wooden steps.


    Cal¡¯s breath comes in plumes of white fog, his bad arm clutched to hsi side and my wrapped form cradled in his other. I would move my arms about a bit, but currently, they are pinned to my body.


    Whoever thought it would be a good idea to bundle a child so tight that they can¡¯t move an inch?


    I can¡¯t help but feel sympathy for all those babies that have gone through this. It¡¯s already bad enough being stuck in a uncooperative body, it¡¯s not like being pinned helps much.


    I need to learn to walk. Now.


    Cal reaches the cabin, a trails plowed through the snow behind him. Walking up the steps of the porch, they creak in complaint.


    Fumbling around in his cloak, Cal eventually pulls out a blemished metal key. With numb hands, he turns it in the lock, and with a click, the door pops open.


    Musty air drafts out as he opens the door to the old cabin.


    This cabin used to belong to the late Old Gert, the miner who got his brain liquified. Doesn¡¯t make me feel any better.


    If he was found with his brain melted, or whatever, and that bracelet was on his wrist, it makes me even more wary of it. When I had looked at it, all I wanted was it.


    I ain¡¯t becoming some kind of gollum creature. Whatever that thing is, it isn¡¯t good.


    Yet no matter how much I tell myself that, there is a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, and that hollowness in my chest longing to be filled. It¡¯s been a day since that conversation Cal had with the chief.


    When I¡¯d fallen asleep, I¡¯d dreamed of my family. Of my mother and my friends back on earth. And of the longing I feel for my Djinn, which was given to me then immediately ripped away.


    And then I had felt that want for the bracelet.


    Some evil, cursed object. This is a fantasy medieval world, right? So I suppose it stands that it would have cursed objects.


    When Cal steps into the cabin, I can¡¯t help but wrinkle my button sized nose up at the smell of alcohol and musty wood.


    A fireplace rests cold against the back wall, a fur rug draped in front of it. Two old, beat up, padded leather chairs sit around the fireplace. A table rests off to the right, next to a old bookshelf half full.


    Off to the left stands a door leading into what I can guess is the bedroom. A elk¡¯s head is mounted up above the fireplace, its giant horns branching out.


    Cal closes the door behind him, shuffling over to the fireplace. He looks down at me, rocking me back and forth a little, ¡°We made it, girlie. Might not be an Everstar mansion, but it sure beats living in an inn.¡±


    He sits down in one of the arm chairs, looking at the cold fireplace. He glances over to the left, where a small table sits. An empty glass bottle sits on it.


    He picks it up, looking at it with longing. Sighing, he sets it back down, ¡°This¡¯ll take some getting used to. Smells like old man in here.¡±


    That, I can agree with. Now, free my arms or I¡¯ll bite you.


    I look at Cal, the dim light making the lines on his face look even more pronounced. He looks tired and aged.


    Not for the first time, I can¡¯t help but wonder why exactly he is doing this. While I know dear old daddy wanted me gone, it would have made more sense to send me off to some orphanage, instead of sending me all the way out here with a strange, weary man.


    Though, I suppose Everstar didn¡¯t specify how to get rid of me. Just that he wanted me gone.


    Cal looks at me, loosening the blankets bundled up around me. Standing up, he sets me down in the old, battered armchair. He walks over to the fire, setting his backpack down.


    I close my eyes, deciding that while he picks up the cabin, I might as well practice my strange awareness.


    Coiling up a rope of will in my mind, I string it around an imagery hand. Bringing that hand up, I try to push it outwards, from my body.


    I hit a wall approximately where my skin is, but I continue to push at it. I can feel the pressure on my body as I try and push through, a headache starting to blossom in between my eyes.


    I push harder, feeling my will slowly unraveling. My mental hand is shaking from the effort, and I can feel it reach barely a centimeter from my body.


    Then I have to let go, my will dispersing and mental hand dissolving. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I sigh, gurgling in frustration, and wishing I had the ability to speak so I could shout curses all the way to heaven.


    Actually, is there a heaven? The way Cereus was talking, it sounded like there wasn¡¯t one.


    I decide to leave theological questions to the side for now, I was never much of a religious person or anything. Not an atheist exactly, but close. I suppose I kind of would have to be to agree to be reborn as some sort of lab rat. It doesn¡¯t seem much like the thing God would be okay with.


    Then again, I hadn¡¯t exactly been myself when asked the question. If anything, I would say that I was stripped down, my soul bare for all to see. Though, as I look back, I wasn¡¯t disconnected from my emotions, only that I was numbed to them, letting me think logically.


    Ain¡¯t that strange? Maybe I need to think more logically.


    If I¡¯m trapped in the body of a baby till it grows up, and can¡¯t do much with it, then I might as well train my mind. I need to think more logically. Approach the problem from a different viewpoint.


    I take a few deep breaths, my tiny chest expanding with them. Releasing them slowly, I calm my mind.


    Turning back to trying to push my mind out of my body, I feel along the barrier that keeps it in place. It feels much like a thin membrane, made of something incredibly hard.


    If I can¡¯t push my way through, maybe I have to drill?


    I gather muster up my will like before, only now I imagine it weaving together to form a thin, tough and impossibly sharp drill.


    Taking a deep breath, I shove it against the wall, slowly spinning it with my mind. I imagine it picking up pace, drilling faster and faster.


    The headache start back up, only now it is a sharp pain between my eyes.


    I scrunch my brow. No, I need to keep going.


    My will start fraying, but I continue to drill into the membrane, trying to break through it.


    The headache blossoms into a full blown migraine, electric bolts of pain lashing out.


    My concentration falters.


    The drill snaps, the tips spinning away and dissolving along with the rest of it.


    I gasp for breath, pushing my tiny hands against my head and wailing my pain.


    It hurts! It hurts to think! Stop thinking! Why am I still thinking about not thinking? AHHH!


    Cal comes over, shushing me. He picks me up, rocking me back and forth in his arms. I clock him in the jaw, for all the good it does.


    The rocking is not helping in the least!


    He eventually puts me down as I stop screaming my pain, the migraine fading into a dull, throbbing pain in the back of my mind.


    The fire crackles and pops, the fire light throwing shadows over the walls. The elk head¡¯s antlers toss shadows about, crawling along the walls.


    Cal moves about, putting things away and cleaning up various things left out by the cabin¡¯s previous owner.


    I close my eyes, moving my focus back inwards and to the place I had tried to drill a hole in, right above my heart.


    Brushing imaginary fingers over it, I can feel a small indent, barely anything.


    But it did work, I just need to practice more.


    I open my eyes again, deciding to wait till my headache is completely gone. I watch Cal idly, pondering what to do.


    My eyes are drawn back to the bag, which resides now on the table against the wall. It is where Cal stored the bracelet.


    There is a tingling at the back of my mind, a barely heard whisper on the wind. It wants me to come, to pick it up, to accept it.


    I shake my head, clamping my hands down on my ears. No! I won¡¯t! If I¡¯ve learned anything from watching all those horror movies, it¡¯s that the guy who accepts whatever always becomes evil or die first!


    Blinking, my small hands feel my ears. They are rounded into a cone like shape, ending in nubby points. I play with them, finding the sensation odd. This is so strange, but I suppose I need to get used to that.


    Cal opens his bag, pulling out a half empty pouch of goat milk. I give him a glare as he starts heating it up.


    Closing my eyes, I shift my mind back to the little indent I left in the wall.


    I start gathering my will, touching the spot.


    What the? It¡¯s gone?


    I check the rest of the barrier and can¡¯t find it. Well, great.


    Sighing mentally, I move my awareness back to that empty hole in my chest. Brushing the strange, complex lock that sits in the center.


    I move away from the lock, looking at the strands that it holds together, and the hollowness around it. I get the feeling of longing, of needing something that has been taken away from me.


    And the bracelet can give it to me.


    I shake my head. No, no way. Not that creepy thing.


    I look at the emptiness surrounding the lock, and ponder on its nature. Maybe I can fill it with something other than a Djinn?


    Djinn can¡¯t be the only things that give classes. There have to be other types of spirits. But I¡¯m pretty sure I can¡¯t do anything till that lock is opened.


    I feel Cal picking me up, and my eyes snap open. I glare at him. Don¡¯t you dare.


    He brings the pouch up, stuffing the nozzle into my mouth and dribbling milk through. I glare at him, but gulp it down.


    I push the push away as I feel my small stomach fill up, Cal crocks it and sets it on the table next to the armchair. He moves me into the crook of his arm, bringing the backpack up onto his lap.


    Rummaging around for a moment, he pulls out the bracelet.


    My eyes immediately lock onto it, the gem embedded in the silvery iron pulsing with power.


    Cal twirls it in his fingers, and I wonder if he hears the call too.


    He brings it up, inspecting its surface more closely. He mutters under his breath, ¡°Containment runes¡­ Very powerful, at least pre Fracture¡­ But¡­¡±


    He flips it over to one side of the wrist band, a complex runic spiral on it. He flips it to the other side, where a similar rune is etched in silver on the surface of the metal.


    ¡°Direction runes, pointed towards the wearer. To direct what? Mana?¡± He fingers the rune, turning the bracelet every which way, it¡¯s surface catching the firelight.


    He taps the gem, and I watch as something inside shifts. Just a brief flicker of movement, and I can¡¯t be exactly sure if I saw it right.


    ¡°A mana gem? Perhaps some kind of mana booster device?¡±


    At this point I can only understand half of what he is saying.


    Cal brings up his left hand, lowering the bracelet down.


    You don¡¯t want to do that!


    I watch as inch by inch, the bracelet gets closer to his wrist. I don¡¯t like Cal, but I¡¯m not sure what I would do without him. I¡¯d be left here with no one to take care of me, and would probably die from hunger, or the cold or anything even a little deadly!


    I flail my arms, but Cal just repositions me. The Bracelet is but an inch away from the skin of his wrist.


    My eyes widen in horror as I desperately try and reach for the bracelet, but my short, uncoordinated arms are useless.


    Then he stops, the bracelet hover a mere centimeters above his wrist. He sets it in his lap, shrugging.


    I blink in surprise, sure that he was going to put it on.


    Doesn¡¯t he feel compelled to wear it?


    Cal sits his head back and sighs, rubbing his eyes. ¡°By the Black Gate, I wish Bolgor was here. He¡¯d know what this thing is.¡±


    I just stare at Cal, he eventually looks down at me. I gurgle at him, trying to tell him he¡¯s a idiot. He bounces me a little, ¡°Well, welcome to your new home, girlie. It could use a little fixin¡¯ upin¡¯, but I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll get it done.¡±


    I sock Cal in the nose. Don¡¯t call me girlie!