The sun in the morning fought through the grimed-over window of Charlie's hut, throwing pale light on the creaky floorboards. His head pounded relentlessly, a reminder of last night's folly thudding in his temples. But it wasn't just the drink—it was the remembrance of something he had tried to bury.
For an instant, he remained motionless, allowing memories to flood in.
The graduation day from Mei University was to be the beginning of it all. His chest swelled with pride as the princess and king of his native land stood before him. The princess gave a reassuring thump to the heavy pouch of coins into his palm, and the king handed over his mage license with a serious nod.
"Charlie," the king's voice firm, "take our hopes with you. Bring pride to Drimed. Make our village proud."
He had grinned, vowing fortune and fame for his family and small kingdom he cherished. But the way out of Mei was far from the tales he had imagined.
The memory writhed dark.
Bandits had attacked him along the road to Drimed. His merchandise had been taken, his license torn from his grasp, and the pouch of money stolen into the darkness. Penniless and alone, he walked the streets of Charma, a city that consumed him.
Cold and starving, he was a shattered man until he encountered Betty.
Betty was a keen-eyed woman with no tolerance for excuses. She caught him sleeping in an alley, tattered and defeated.
"Wake up, dreamer," she snapped, voice as cutting as a knife. "The world owes you nothing."
She took him in, provided him with a roof in a fallen-down hut, and showed him how to survive.
Talent don't do anything without business," she said to him once, and pressed into his hand a little book. "Study this, or starve."
Charlie complied at first. He was proud of his magic, sure it would suffice. But Betty's lessons earthed him. He started selling potions—cheap, basic—but sufficient to stave off the hunger.
But pride became poison.
The pain of losing all, the isolation of the stranger, and the burden of broken dreams pushed him to drink. The bright promise eroded into a blur of ale and bitter remorse. He became careless, his magic sloppy, his temper quick.
Whispers trailed him like shadows. "Crazy," they whispered. "Unreliable. A threat."
His sole lifeline—the guild—cut him loose. Fired and forsaken, Charlie dove deeper, hawking counterfeit potions and swindling desperate customers. Anything for life. Anything to return to Drimed.
The present hit him back.
Charlie stuffed his potions, the familiar ring of glass a gall bitter solace. The market pulsed with life—merchants hawking, elves trading, mages showing off their abilities.
At the periphery of the crowd, silver locks caught his attention. The blind girl.
She moved with quiet grace, her pale eyes unfocused but her presence undeniable. Something about her stillness pulled at him, a fragile strength in a harsh world.
At the guild's grand entrance, Betty stood behind the reception desk, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and cold.
"Charlie," she said without warmth, "you're not on the list for today's ceremony. The guild event is exclusive to official mages."
He gritted a smile, covering the pain. "I'm still a mage. Just. unofficial."
Her gaze sharpened, her voice low but unyielding. "Unofficial means you don't belong. Not here. Not anymore."
His jaw clenched. "I'm not finished."
Betty's lips thinned to an unforgiving line. "Perhaps you never will be."
The noise of the market grew heavier as a sudden silence dropped beside the street's edge.
A towering figure emerged—a girl with wild, red hair and eyes that seemed as stormy as the weather. The savage girl.
She smacked a heavy hand on a merchant's table, making the jars vibrate.
"Enough!" she growled, voice slicing the crowd like a knife. "This market isn't for cheats and liars."
Her eyes swept the crowd, coming to rest on Charlie like a hunting hawk.
You're the one poisoning this place with your counterfeit potions, aren't you, Charlie?"
He spread his arms, attempting to look harmless. "I'm just trying to make an honest buck."
She laughed, a cold, bitter sound. "Honest? You're an embarrassment. Pretending to scam honest people in a mage's cloak."
Her voice lowered to a menacing whisper. "Stay out of the guild's affairs, or next time, I won't be so friendly.
Before he could do anything, her fist crashed into his jaw. The room spun, agony bursting through his head.
Charlie staggered backward, sweat and blood commingling.
The crowd remained quiet, but from the fringes, the blind girl moved forward. From her cloak, a fragile hand extended, holding a tiny vial.
"(For when you need help)" It was a whisper, yet I heard it, no, I felt it. She had a sound like thousand angels blended together into one.
Charlie glanced up, gratitude and pain flickering across his eyes. For the first time today, someone had treated him with kindness without criticism.
As the sun set below the horizon, Charlie sat alone in his hut, with bruises, beer, and bruised ego. The crushing weight of defeat weighed him down, but at its core a fierce spark of hope glowed still.
He would go back to Drimed. He would set it right. At whatever cost.
I woke up in reality and headed straight for the mages guild to right my wrong. My memory was a bit chaotic, so i didn't know you, sorry, but since i do now, I will save you at any cost. I charged in the direction of the guild armed with an amber red staff and a touch of determination to rescue the girl who had treated me kindly and return the favor.