A long time ago, in a world far different from our own, a world ruled by the sword. On the small island continent of Aleria the land was wrapped in endless conflict. After the death of his parents at a young age Prince Shean ascended the throne of the Southern Kingdom of Essilia. He wanted to live out his father’s dream of unifying all of Aleria, and he only knew one way of doing this. War. Years passed and the young king strengthened his armies and launched numerous campaigns into the north. Each time slowly increasing the size of the kingdom as it crept ever closer to the major cities of the Northern Kingdom of Failin. Swords, spears and arrows were the typical ways of waging war in this age, but there was another way to fight, strength in a less tangible form. Magic. People that were found to have the gift of magic, or even had the slightest chance to be trained, anyone who had the ability of harness the power of magic was a valuable asset to Shean’s desires and he would acquire them into his ranks by any means necessary.

People who where born with the gift of magic for the most part looked like any other normal person, but to the trained eye they could be picked out by telltale signs, a birthmark of some sort. Some were born with splotches on their skin, a mole here or there. A rare one was a streak of white hair. Raien had a mark like this. She had silver hair running along her hair, all the way from the beginning of the part all the way to her nape, slicing across her jet black hair like a bolt of lightning through a moonless night sky. Another less common mark of a magic user was red colored eyes, and along with it’s rarity came a much more potent ability to wield and control magic. Raien was lucky enough, or unfortunate enough to be born with this mark as well. Form her earliest days Raien was easily identified by her eyes, hued the color of deep red wine, though more often than not her eyes were referred to as the color of blood.

From a young age Raien knew she was different. She secretly learned to use her magic as a tool for her purposes, lighting a candle if it was dark, conjuring some water to drink if she was thirsty, but her favorite trick was to make a cool breeze on a hot summer day. She knew she had to be careful to hide her gift. One time when she was angry without knowing what she was doing she created a fireball that nearly burnt down a forest, that is it would have had she not acted quickly and quenched the flames by forming waves of water. She knew she had to be in complete control of her emotions or she could hurt someone, or possibly herself. Her biggest fear was to be found as a magic user and used as a living weapon. She never had parents that could shield her from such a fate. As an orphan there’d be little to stop the Essilian Army from taking her.

Raien grew up in Orrin, a small city near the border of the Essilian and Failin Kingdoms in a home with other orphaned children. She did get a bed to sleep in and food to eat, but the home lacked love that a normal home would give. She would soon be celebrating her eighteenth birthday, in five days. She was looking forward to it, but in way she wasn’t. At eighteen she’d have to leave the house and she had no idea what she would do then.

“Hey skunk!” shouted one of the boys in the back of class. Probably Trian, she thought. “Yeah you know the answer stripe.” Raien woke from her little daydream and looked at the board.

“The answer is forty two,” she said and went back to her little world, she was drawing a sketch on what should have been her notes, but since she already knew the material her desire to take studious notes was fairly low.

“Nice one skunky,” added Trian. They seemed to have an endless supply of rude comments about her appearance. The skunk came from her hair obviously.

“You know if you did your work you could get some right to Trian,” she replied in anger.

“Whoa, calm down there, I don’t want you to see red, oh wait you already do!” this comment came with an eruption of laughter in the back.

It’s barbaric, she thought. No not barbaric, more simplistic than that. It’s just plain idiotic. I just don’t understand how the person who causes people the most misery is the most respected among them. Raien sighed contemptly. I guess if there were less people like him in the world we wouldn’t have this stupid war, and my gift could be shared, not hidden.

“Class,” said the teacher not getting a response. ”Class!” he continued. Still getting nowhere. “Attention class!” he shouted this time reaping the results he was seeking. “Trian if you must disrupt my class I guess I’ll have to teach longer to make up for lost time.”

“No sir that will not be necessary,” said Trian half mocking him.

“As for you Raien, whether you know that material or not it is no excuse for day dreaming,” lectured the teacher.

“Yes sir, I understand,” answered Raien.

“Alright then,” said the teacher.” Now with that settled maybe I could finish the lesson?”

No I don’t understand! Thought Raien angrily. He gets reprimanded for being an idiot and I get as equally punished for being smart. This world has no logic!

Class had finally ended and Raien stepped out onto the cobble stone street and began her walk back to the orphanage where she lived. It would have been a rather large house for a single family, but when it housed an ever changing cast of children of all ages it seemed a bit crowded. The entryway opened out into a large room that served as the dining room, behind that was the kitchen and headmaster’s quarters and at each side of the great room were four doors each entered into a small room simply furnished with a dresser, small table, a chair and a bed. Only five of the eight rooms where occupied now, and in five days another room would become vacant. Raien walked into the closet that was her room and on her bed was a note that simply read, Raien, Potatoes and dinner clean up. The notes were the head master’s impartial way of assigning the daily chores.

I cleaned up yesterday, thought Raien. God, it’s like they’re getting as much work out of me as they can before I leave. Raien walked to the kitchen and pulled out a bag of potatoes and began to peel. No one else seems to be home, thought Raien. Where’s Pip, Marfa, Krilen, and Ravde? Even the headmaster isn’t here. She continued to peel for a couple of minutes until she heard the front door open. Someone walked into one of the rooms and in a little while Krilen walked into the kitchen and picked up a mop and filled a bucket with soap and water.

“Hello Krilen,” said Raien.

“Oh, Raien, hey there” replied Krilen. “Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean? I’m not eighteen yet,” answered Raien slicing the peeled potatoes.
“Oh, I see. Good less work for me then,” Krilen said coldly as he walked back into the great room to begin his chore. This was Raien’s life, ignored and unliked even by the other orphans. Raien felt as if she didn’t belong anywhere.