Caden found his life goal to be extremely simple: save the good guys and kill the bad guys. He, of course, was a good guy. He could never be evil. Why would a child want to watch the world burn?

　　Caden was on his way to becoming a legendary hero. In fact, he was nearly ready. He had already smuggled Isabel`s sword from underneath her bed and slung it around his waist. He visited Goran`s Tavern and traded Ms. Elena twenty-six flint marks - that he found and didn`t steal - for a cloth mask that covered his nose and mouth. The very last task was to visit seamstress Heather.

　　The problem was that the woman was probably a witch. He would know from the vivid stories bards tell about spooky witches and menacing Pyromancers who burned down crops and blocked out the Sun with red clouds. His sister Isabel said bad guys took the Sun away, but Caden wasn`t even sure if something like that was ever real.

　　Heather was the first bad guy he had to duel. She was rude and scammed people out of all their flint marks. So, Caden would have to pull out one smart plan to get her to agree to sell him a cloak. Luckily, he had a secret weapon.

　　"I heard that the seamstress was quite fond of peach cakes," one of the employees at Goran`s Tavern had said.

　　So, armed with a box of cakes, he traveled into the seamstress`s workshop in the tight corner of quadrant two. The place was alluring and beautiful, but Heather was a lump of coal in the otherwise brightly colored room.

　　She wasn`t old; she just looked mean. In fact, she was around the same age as Isabel - maybe a little older. His sister would probably scold him for running around the city all day when he certainly should be studying for entrance exams to the Scholar Branch.

　　Heather didn`t look at him as he approached. "What do ya want, kid?" she asked. Her elbow was on the counter, and her hand was on her cheek. She clutched a pipe. "Scram," she said, "I`m not looking to deal with you today."

　　Caden placed the peach cakes onto the counter, grabbed a small box from nearby, and stood on top of it so he was tall enough to face her.

　　"I`ve got a deal for you today, Ms. Heather. I`m in the market for a new cloak," he gestured with his hands in the shape of a rainbow, "something intimidating, easy to wear, something special. Something that`ll blow the socks off the bad guys in the streets. Something -"

　　"Don`t care," she snapped, "get lost."

　　He narrowed his eyes, "Well, would a peach cake change your mind? They`re fresh. I just got them," he asked, raising his eyebrows. He pointed to the paper box on the counter.

　　"Oh wow," she said, "Thank you," she sounded happy.

　　He fidgeted with his hands. This has got to work.

　　She lifted a cake from the box and ate it. "This was good. . . Now leave!"

　　Okay, it`s time for plan B.

　　"I`m just looking for a deal," he said, placing his hands behind his back. "I`m sure there`s something you could sell me."

　　"Not anything you could afford."

　　"Just give me a price," said Caden, "I`m sure I`ve got it." He unhooked his pouch of flint marks and held it behind his back.

　　"One hundred twenty-five marks, and I`ll give you my nephew`s old, frayed cloak."

　　"Come on," he smiled, pointing at himself, "it`s me, you know me. . . can`t we barter a little?"

　　"No."

　　He undid the pin on his sleeve. Slowly, multiple small pebbles trickled across his arm and into the bag.

　　"How about eighty-five?" he offered.

　　"One sixty."

　　"That`s more!"

　　"I added extra as compensation for wasting my time."

　　He grumbled, "Okay, one twenty-five!"

　　"One thirty."

　　He glared at her.

　　"One forty for that look you just gave me."

　　"But I brought you peach cakes!" The last rock fell into the bag.

　　She threw her head back and laughed. "You really have one twenty-five?"

　　He nodded vigorously and tied the small bag behind his back.

　　"Prove it."

　　He smiled brightly, "Oh, I promise you won`t be disappointed, Ms. Heather. I`ve got all the marks right here from working as a messenger. It`s such a nice job, you know," he pinned his sleeve back into place, and carefully placed the pouch of marks - and rocks - onto the counter. "Did you know I`ve been working for three months now? My father wouldn`t let me at first; he said I was too young, but I`m ten years old now. I`m practically grown up."

　　She glanced down at the pouch.

　　He shifted from one foot to the other.

　　She lifted the bag and then put it down. She laughed again and shoved her pipe into the ashtray.

　　"Oh, alright, fine, I`ll go get it, and you can try it on. You seem to be doing outstanding work."

　　Caden sighed in relief.

　　She walked to the back room, saying: "You tell your father to spread the word that I have the best deals!"

　　"You got it!" He bounced up and down, awaiting her return.

　　She came back with the cloak and tossed it at him. He pulled it on over his shoulders. It was perfect. Black, frayed at the bottom, had a hood, and looked just like the ones legendary heroes would wear.

　　"Thank you so much," said Caden, sprinting for the door a little too quickly.

　　"You be careful now!"

　　"I will. Pleasure doing business," he said with a silly bow. He ran through the door and out onto the streets.

　　Maybe it was wrong to have done what he did, but Heather was a villain, and he had beaten her at her own game. He brought justice. He was good.

　　He didn`t turn back, not even when Heather opened her door and shouted some curse he couldn`t hear.

　　She probably said he was a liar.

　　Because he paid her in mostly rocks.

　　And he had never worked as a messenger.

　　* * *

　　Caden had everything he needed to fight crime. Armed with his new outfit and the many lessons he`d gotten from Father and Mr. Darian, he was ready. It wasn`t completely dark out yet, but the clouds above began to dim. Usually, the crimson clouds produced enough light to see. Still, as nighttime set in, they began to fade - until nothing but darkness remained.

　　He had climbed on a few stacked boxes and then pulled himself onto the flat rooftop of a nearby building. Many people were scuttling home at this time, and it was the perfect moment to save someone good and hurt someone bad. He took a deep breath and listened.

　　Someone was in trouble. Caden heard it. Somewhere in the maze of alleyways, a voice was calling for help. This was exactly what he wanted.

　　He slid to the ground by holding onto one of the metal pipes that would pump heat into the building. He landed awkwardly, taking a few steps forward to balance himself before breaking into a run. The sheathed sword at his side slammed into his legs, and cold air flowed through the open parts of his outfit, biting at his skin.

　　"Stop! You can`t take that, it`s mine! I paid you enough!" He heard shouting. A girl`s voice.

　　"Damn slag. I need this money to live! My children are starving. Just give me what you owe!"

　　Caden hustled into the alleyway, pulling up his mask to cover his nose and mouth. He was finally going to be a hero. This was it.

　　Two people were struggling over a pouch of flint marks. A vagrant man, homeless, lost, anger in his eyes. Bad guy. And a merchant lady who clutched the bag away from him as he aimlessly grabbed at it.

　　He hurled himself right at the man, jumping into the air and using his momentum to send his entire body lunging forward.

　　"Stop! In the name of the law!"

　　He collided with the man`s shoulder, and the two tumbled over. Caden was up first. "You`re safe now, madam!" he turned to the woman, "Please flee. Tell the knights of this man`s wrongdoings."Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

　　She gave him an odd look but sprinted away.

　　Caden awkwardly drew his sword. "Away with you! I`ll put you in the dungeons for hurting that poor merchant! To the sanctuary!" He tried to make himself sound more intimidating, but this man was twice his size. This bad guy was nothing like he thought; he was tough.

　　"What is your problem, kid? That lady ripped me off and stole my last flint mark! I can`t even pay to mark my family`s hovel now!" He shouted, throwing his hands up into the air.

　　Caden flinched.

　　Save the good guys, kill the bad guys. He scolded himself and swallowed his fear. He charged.

　　"You stupid brat!" the man shouted. He stepped away from Caden`s sloppy attack and punched him in the face.

　　He flew back, dropped his sword, and landed on the pavement. His vision blurred in and out, and half his face screamed in pain. Was he bleeding? Where was his sword? He wasn`t holding it anymore.

　　"The hell is your problem? Why did you attack me? Who do you think you are?" he spat. He approached Caden and lifted him by his shirt. He pulled off his cloak and mask and threw it to the ground. "Why are you wearing this? Do you think this is a game?"

　　"I am a hero," he coughed.

　　He was slapped across the face, "Your mother should teach you some manners."

　　Caden frowned, then cried.

　　The man threw him to the ground and snatched his sword. "Where did you get a weapon like this? Maybe a few cuts will teach you not to mess with a stranger`s business."

　　"No!" he shouted, "stay away from me!" He struggled to get himself up but was still stunned by that punch. It still hurt so badly. This bad guy was seriously strong. Where was his father? He needed help.

　　"Maybe I`ll cut off your little fingers, and you`ll never carry a sword again," said the man. He took a menacing step forward, and Caden scrambled away. This man wasn`t just a typical bad guy. He was extremely scary.

　　"Please stop!" he shouted, "I`m sorry! I`ll be a good kid! Someone help! Please help me!"

　　The man lifted the sword.

　　Caden glanced up at him, then closed his eyes.

　　He struck.

　　The sound of metal clanging against metal startled him; his eyes flew open.

　　"Do you really think torturing a crying child will teach him manners?"

　　"Izzy!" Caden sobbed, getting up to his knees and practically throwing himself around her legs. She didn`t falter, not even for a second.

　　Isabel was tall and lean. She wore a long black cloak with a mask that covered her nose and mouth, her white hair seemed to glow, and she held one blue and white glowing dagger.

　　"Huh? Who the hell are you? This kid just got me robbed! I was teaching him not to mess with -"

　　In one swift motion, Isabel stepped away from Caden, disarmed the man, and held a dagger to his throat.

　　"P-please, I was. . ."

　　"Quiet now," she said softly, "don`t beg. A child is watching."

　　"Let me -"

　　"Did I give you permission to speak?"

　　The man paled. He was shaking. His eyes were wide. He was terrified.

　　Caden smirked.

　　"You`re going to run away with your tail between your legs, and nobody else will know about this. Or I`m going to kill you."

　　He nodded. Isabel dropped her dagger, and it vanished. Caden knew she had magic, but he wasn`t quite sure what kind of magic that was.

　　The bad guy turned on his heel and sprinted away from them as fast as he could.

　　Caden was furious that she would let him go. He got to his feet, put his cloak back on, and scrambled for his sword. He took off after the man.

　　Isabel grabbed him by the hood. "Where do you think you`re going?"

　　"To kill him!" he snarled. "He`s a bad guy! He took that girl`s money! He hurt me!"

　　She gasped, then pulled him in front of her and let him go. In a gentle but swift motion, she took his sword and sheathed it, placing it behind her back. "Why would you want to kill him?"

　　"He`s an enemy!" shouted Caden, "He`s a bad guy who hurt that poor merchant girl. Save the good guys, kill the bad guys, remember?"

　　Isabel put a hand on his shoulder and bent down on one knee. "Oh, Caden," she sighed. She pulled down her mask. "Let me tell you something. . . No one is truly evil. There is no such thing as good guys or bad guys. It`s only people." Her eyes were so sorrowful, "Nobody in the world deserves to get hurt."

　　She looked so genuine that Caden wanted to believe every word. But he couldn`t. There was evil in this world. If there wasn`t, his mother would still be with them, and there would be no need for the knights. His father wouldn`t be living in the forest, and Ms. Heather wouldn`t scam people out of all their money. There was evil. People did deserve to be hurt.

　　He tore away from her grasp, "You`re wrong!" He took a step away from her. "That`s what you always say, and you`re wrong. People hurt good people, people like Dad! That makes them evil."

　　"And if you hurt those evil people? You`d be no better than them."

　　"That`s different!" He stomped in protest. "I`m helping good people! Everyone says to kill the bad guys. That`s what the knights do, what Dad used to do, and what I want to do! It`s what you do!"

　　Isabel frowned, "It`s not what I do," she said so callously that it scared him.

　　"I`m sorry," he said, "I know it is not polite to yell."

　　"Don`t fight from that place," said Isabel, "The place of rage. Don`t," she shook her head. "You should fight from a place of love. Now come on, let`s get you patched up and returned home."

　　Caden nodded. He followed his sister out of the alleyway.

　　"Now, where did you get that cloak and mask?"

　　"I bought the mask from Ms. Elena and the cloak from Ms. Heather."

　　"And where did you get the marks for that?"

　　He looked down at his feet, "Found `em."

　　"Don`t lie."

　　"I`m not!"

　　She stopped moving and put her hands on her hips. He desperately didn`t want to disappoint her.

　　"I may have paid for it with a sack of rocks and a box of peach cakes. . . but I played fair with Ms. Elena!"

　　"And Heather didn`t catch you?"

　　"Well. . ." he glanced away.

　　"Dad`s gonna be mad. And you know better. Follow the rules that are in place for you; don`t make your own."

　　"Who cares? I got this cool costume now. I can go on missions with you!"

　　"You already know the answer to that," she scolded him, as always.

　　"But what if you get hurt? What if someone was beating you up like that? I could protect you."

　　She smiled broadly, "I don`t think that`ll ever be a problem. When was the last time you ever saw me get hurt?"

　　He thought for a moment and realized she was right. Isabel was invincible; nothing could ever hurt her.

　　"But. . ." he complained, "I want to be like you."

　　She shook her head, "No, Caden, don`t be like me," she spoke the following words so softly: "I want you to be better than me."

　　But how could he? They never agree on anything, especially what being a hero means. How could he ever live up to her? Maybe it was impossible.

　　"Oh fine, come on," she said, "I have a. . . mission` to meet with Ms. Elena, why don`t you come along?"

　　"A mission? Really?" Caden asked, starry-eyed.

　　Isabel nodded; he would follow her anywhere. Everywhere.

　　* * *

　　An eerie amount of time later, he woke up on the snow-covered pavement outside and alone. Where was he? It was morning. How much time had passed? Opening his eyes was hard, but getting to his feet was impossible. The last thing he remembered was Isabel walking him home, but where was she now? The world was spinning. He got up, fell, and caught himself on the wall to his left.

　　Why can`t I remember what happened? He thought. We were just walking home. . . Now I`m here?

　　He followed the torches, traveled through some alleyways, and arrived on the main path that led to barracks three. Why was everything so fuzzy? He walked up to the guards in front of the building, hoping they would have answers. Isabel always said the Order was disorganized, but he had no other option.

　　"Hello?" he stopped in front of them, holding a hand to his head.

　　"There`s a kid," one said.

　　"I can see that, Dimling."

　　"I feel like I should know who he is."

　　"Hector`s kid," the other whispered.

　　They both stood at attention. "Hey, uh, what can we do for you. . . sir?"

　　"Don`t call him sir!" He punched the other.

　　"Ow!"

　　Caden rubbed his eyes. "I`m looking for my sister."

　　"The other Arkell? Oh buckets, Jimothy, should we tell him?"

　　"No, you idiot."

　　"Tell me what?" asked Caden.

　　"That -"

　　"Shut up," said Jimothy.

　　Caden coughed, "what happened?" he asked. "Do you know? Does anyone know?"

　　He searched for his sword. He didn`t have it or his cloak. He was wearing an entirely new outfit.

　　"Your sister. . . she got into some trouble," said the other knight, "so, some people are out looking for her. We don`t know where she went, but last we heard, she was in quadrant two."

　　Caden took off.

　　She`s in trouble? I have to help!

　　He ran back down the main path and scoured the city streets for her. He passed lit lanterns and torches, sticking close to them. The blood-red clouds above began to produce more light. Had he been in that alley all night?

　　Caden climbed up a ladder that was attached to one of the buildings, snagging a torch from the wall on his way up. At the top, he surveyed the city, looking for any sign of Isabel. The rooftop was messy, full of pots and boxes.

　　A call for help echoed loudly from below. It shocked him so badly that he dropped the torch on the rooftop and descended the ladder. He ran toward the call, taking three turns before stumbling into a new alleyway. Half of it was burned. Streaks of black were scattered across the pavement and the buildings. It looked like something had exploded. In the center of the stain lay a bleeding girl.

　　He took five half steps forward and kept his attention on the area surrounding her; it was left entirely untouched, as if her body was protected from the flames. An angel of fire cleaved the world in two but left her unscathed.

　　Horror ripped through him as he saw the girl clearly. He started running, then fell to his knees and put his hands on the girl to try and help her. Isabel, it was Isabel. Her side was bleeding, and her chest was not rising or falling. She was so entirely still; he`d never seen her not moving, even while she was sleeping.

　　"Izzy? Can you hear me?" he asked.

　　He grabbed her hand; it was cold. "C-come on, this isn`t funny."

　　"Wake up now, okay? I`m sorry I yelled at you earlier," tears fell down his face, "You`re going to be okay. You`re going to be safe. You`re the Lady of the Moon. You`re invulnerable, remember?"

　　"Can you open your eyes, please?" he asked. "You. . . can`t leave. You can`t leave me all alone here."

　　"What am I supposed to do now?"

　　Nobody in the entire world deserves to get hurt. Isabel`s words echoed in his mind.

　　His vision blurred from the tears, and his throat hurt like fire, but his heart felt empty. "You said you wouldn`t get hurt, you promised."

　　If only he had been there to help her.

　　He didn`t notice the group of knights who surrounded the area. He didn`t notice the blue glow that lit up the world, and it wasn`t until a hand touched his shoulder that he even realized someone else was there.

　　"Hey, kid, why don`t you come here for a minute?" It was Mr. Darian. A Crusader, Dad`s friend. He wore armor that glowed a deep blue.

　　Caden quickly wiped away his tears. He couldn`t cry in front of Mr. Darian. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked.

　　"Come on, on your feet."

　　He rose, following the Crusader, moving away from Isabel.

　　"Why are they putting that sheet on her?" he asked.

　　Darian touched the back of his head, forcing him to look away. "Don`t worry about that; just come this way, we can talk."

　　Caden waddled along with Mr. Darian.

　　"I`m afraid that your sister isn`t going to be okay," he said, placing a hand on Caden`s back. They turned down a new alleyway. "Do you know what happened to her?"

　　He shook his head.

　　"She was very brave," said Darian.

　　"She was a hero. . ."

　　"Yes. . . Do you know what kind of work she did?"

　　"Good work," said Caden, "She helped people."

　　"Yes. But it was also dangerous work. And sometimes, when you do dangerous work, you can die."

　　"But. . ." he said solemnly, "she wasn`t sick. . . or old."

　　"There are other ways to die. . ." Darian said, then, he spoke much more viciously: "Someone else took your sister`s life."

　　He felt like he`d been hit by an anvil and smushed into a puddle of muck. It wasn`t like being sad - it was different; it was a permanent scar that would never go away. . . he was empty.

　　"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked.

　　Darian sighed, "There is only one thing to do," he paused. They had arrived back on the main path, near the building Caden had climbed on to look for Isabel. "If you wish to stop this pain and truly become a hero, you must find the person who took her life away. Anger is a powerful tool, kid. Your pain will end if you destroy your enemies and discover who did this. We always say to save the good guys. . . but sometimes we fail. However, you can still kill the bad guys."

　　Caden nodded. In an uncanny second, his sadness faded. It was like Darian had plucked it out of him and replaced it with something else. An impossible fire. A ferocity. A blazing rage. Caden felt no despair, no sadness, nothing. He only felt anger. He wanted to watch the world burn.

　　Flames burst to life on the building in front of him. For only a moment, he thought he had done it, that his anger had manifested into flames and consumed the building with the magic of Pyromancy. He stared at the blazing fire as it trickled down the sides of the building and poured over the edges. He felt the heat on his skin.

　　But he did not have that kind of power. Darian did. The Crusader snapped his fingers. The flames twirled through the air and came flowing into his hands. It would vanish before reaching him; he absorbed the fire; that was the true power of Pyromancy.

　　He realized that the magic was not what caught the building on fire, but Caden was still the culprit. The building only burned because he left a torch up there, and as it smoldered, it would eventually be set ablaze. In the same way, his rage would build and build, and in time - he, too, would burn.