Monsters and magic don't go well together, do they?

And yet, both are the very things that changed my entire life. But before I can even go into detail about that, we must start at the very beginning, before any of the sorcerous stuff.

It all began on the crispiest day in the rundown peasant village of Shlaido—the place I once called home. The winter air was cool and gentle, in contrast to the piercing gale of the week before.

I went about my duties as a farmhand. I harvested luscious crops and scattered the seeds of new ones into the lush earth beneath me. I tilled the untouched land and sprinkled new, pulpy soil into the fields. I made a point to leave the heap of tainted crops in one pile and the remainder of flourishing ones for Farmer Milo to collect.

Sweat stained my brow despite the brisk breeze and I wiped it away with my hand, taking in the scent of fresh dirt. There was something about the trickle of the distant river, the feel of the loam crunching softly under my boots, the soothing wind sweeping my face that was enough to make this repetitious job at least somewhat congenial.

The sun started to peek over the hills, encompassing the sky in shimmers of bright yellow and blinding white. It tingled my face with its faint warmth. Fluffy clouds loomed about in the wide blue in bunches. I looked back down and past the fields. The meadow across from the steading was bare, its boughs withering. Nevertheless, it looked beautiful. The trees with their silver branches, the stubbles of snowy grass that began to form, the leaves with their many shades of red and orange.

At last, when I'd felt like I'd done enough work for the day, Farmer Milo came and applauded me for my labor. He offered a tad more coins than necessary. I refused at first, but he insisted I take it and eventually I agreed. To top it all off, he even granted me a steamy loaf of bread which his wife had just baked.

"Thanks a billion, sir," I beamed. "This is tremendously generous."

"You are dearly welcome, m'boy," grunted the farmer, smiling wanly. "If I only had your physique, I wouldn't need such a kind fellow to assist me. Here we are, though, I s'pose." He sniffled. "Now leave a man to rest. Savor the things that don't last, might I add."

"Your wisdom is as remarkable as my strength, sir," I joked as I passed by the hay bales and cattle, then turned a corner to find the marketplace bustling with Shlaido's many rag-clad villagers. Even though this was a hamlet for the penniless, it was still rather lively. The first stop I made was Mister Bochard's Stew Stall. He traded the most affordable soups in the market.

Mister Bochard looked ancient as ever, as though one more waft of crackling wind would carry him away. He shone a toothy grin at me and lent the daily soup as I paid with my clump of coinage. I thanked him and he nodded me off. I was just about to leave the market, exhausted from my day of toil, aching for a good meal and some rest, when something caught my eye.

It came from Madam Timberwall's Gem Collection, undoubtedly the costliest of the stalls. It was a gleaming blue gem labeled, The Sapphire of the Sea.

"Intriguing," I mumbled to myself.

There must have been thousands upon thousands of dazzling jewels lain out there. Some even more valuable than this one. Except something strange and magnetizing allured me to it. I walked up to the hoary collector and said, "Pardon me."

She looked up, soaking in my presence. Then she bore her silver eyes into my emerald-green ones.

"Eh?" she croaked.

"How much is it for that gem there?" I pointed a finger at the Sapphire, which neighbored a precious topaz amulet.

"One of me gems, eh?" The old woman's face was wrinkled and her scars shown spontaneously as she spoke. "Ah, the Sapphire o' the Sea! Yes, yes! A valuable stone indeed, said to have the ability to change one's fate."

I blinked. "Change one's fate?"

"Oh yes," Madam Timberwall squawked. "The Sapphire is known to possess the ability to change a lad's destiny, so long as that lad is deemed worthy."

"By whom?"

"Why, I can't tell you that, now can I? Y'know what? It's on the house! Free for you and you only, as you look very promising."

My eyes widened. Had this madwoman simply offered to give me such a profitable and precious item for gratis?

"Are you certain about this?" I asked.

"As I ever could be," said the old gem collector. "Now hurry off before some ruffians come thinking just about anyone can snatch up me gems. Quicken your step, quicken your step!"

I took the gem hastily. Before I could thank her or do anything more, a sudden hot rustle of breath winded upon my back. I whipped around and saw Targan, my one and only boon companion in Shlaido.

"Castro!" he boomed. "What in the Five Lands are you doing here, coiling up with this fraud?"

"Nothing in particular," I said, slipping the Sapphire into my pocket as discreetly as I could. Luckily, Targan was a warthog of a human and could never notice something as slight as slipping an exquisite gem into your pocket. "Something just caught my eye. But you know me. I can't afford such luxuries."

"More like prodigal pebbles," Targan quipped. "Be that as it may, that isn't what I came here to consult you about."

"Oh mercy," I groaned. "What is it?"

"You see, I'm putting together a proper party at the Earl," Targan announced, not to anyone's surprise. All Targan blabbered off about was his vapid parties at the Earl, an abandoned barn that a handful of people went to drink stolen booze at and have a hand at mindless rounds of blockish activities.

"Targan, you know my grandmother is infirm at the moment," I scolded him for his cocky heedlessness. "You of all people should know that. Find some other bloke to help you."

"I haven't even proposed any ideas yet and you come hammering at me!" Targan contended. "Come off it, will you! It's not like I'm bludgeoning you to attend. Moreover, your grandmother can handle herself."

I let out a breath of heated fury before saying, "I will see what I can do. But it is not a promise, understand?"

"You'll show, then?"

"I said it's not a promise, you dullard!"

Targan put his hands up in surrender, then slowly backed away, chuckling, and went off on his way, his bulky figure disappearing amongst the crowd of people in the marketplace, his long curly hair bobbing up and down his back like a lion's mane, his meaty appearance making me look and feel like a branchlet.

I sighed and turned my focus back to Madam Timberwall.

"Excuse him," I said. "He tends to be a bit rash at times, though I'm sure that much is already apparent."

"Very well," said the elderly lady. "I understand. Be off on your way, then, son. You're one of few blokes 'round here I have seen that are so tender."

"A great deal of thanks," I said. "As for your compliments and the gem."

"Ah, it was but a sweat for me," Miss Timberwall answered with a waxen smile.

I begun to make my way in the direction of my grandmother's cottage. It was just down a mundane dirt path leading out from the marketplace, paving all the way up a hill surrounded by a large horde of trees.

I checked my pocket to ensure that the Sapphire was still there. Fortunately, it was. I let out a sigh of relief and continued beating my leather boots against the smooth ground. Grandma's tiny cottage emerged into view. It was the only place I'd ever been able to call home.

When I arrived at the cottage, I made sure that the Sapphire was still remaining in my pocket and, at last, I entered it. Grandma greeted me from her room. There happened to be only two rooms in the house and no doors.

"Dylan, is that you?" she questioned hoarsely. "M'dear boy, are you there?"

I rapped on one of the walls to alert her before I stepped forth.

"Hello, Grandma," I said. "I have something for you."

I perched myself down on the bed she lay upon.

"Ah," she said with a weary smile, "you didn't have to get me anything, child. I am perfectly satisfied with being free of gifts. You know we must save up more coinage."

"It didn't waste me a single penny. Besides, I wanted you to have this, Grandma," I dug into my pocket and felt the prickling surface of the gem and grinned. "I'm certain you'll be amazed by it."

I pulled out the glittering sapphire and handed it to her. Her verdant eyes searched for it as she reached out her bony fingers and tried to touch it.

"What exactly am I supposed to be holding?" she grunted. "Air?"

I blinked. "It's a sapphire, Grandma."

"Oh." She tilted her head at me. "Is your head on right?"

"What?" I asked.

"I'm not holding anything," she looked down at her hand, which was clutching the gem. "Look, it's okay if you didn't get me anything. I don't
expect—"

"But that's impossible," I said. "Grandma, you're holding it. Right now, as we speak."

She just nodded and said, "Oh, sure. Well, it's a very lovely present, Dylan."

"I, uh, am glad you like it, Gram," I titter awkwardly, then grab hold of her open hand and squeeze it carefully. I rise up from the bed and enter the other room so I can prepare supper. "I'm making the accustomed stew tonight," I say.

She grinned and nodded cheerfully as she held the gem tight to her clothed chest, still gazing at her hand like she was searching for something. Her illness must've done some awful things to her head, I think solemnly.

Despite her old age, she looked graceful in the candlelight. Her face was lined with countless creases that dug their way into her pallid skin, but her magnificent green eyes made up for it. Her hair was short and silver and wavy, running down to the nape of her neck. She was sickly thin and even her bones started to show through her skin, but nonetheless she was beautiful.

I spun back around and filled our wood pot with freezing water—the only kind we had. I sighed and emptied the hard meat into the pot of snow. I took a knife and cut the loaf of bread in half. I knew how much Grandma craved bread, so I hoped this would be a pleasant treat.

I looked outside the only window in the cottage. It wasn't large or wide, but it still offered the best view of Shlaido. Since we lived on a hill, our little home overlooked the rest of the village like a watchdog. The sky was illuminated by the moon, smears of glowing white streaking through the dark, brightening the hamlet in its entirety.

I latched open the window to let the cool air in and the frost out. The fresh wind brushed my face gently, soothing my nerves and taking my cares away. It didn't last, though.

I shifted back to the cooking station. Normally, Grandma would be doing this and I would help her but she had been terribly ill and exhausted these past weeks, so I had to take her place. I had had the slightest bit of experience with cooking, despite having watched Grandma do it a million times, but I'm guessing I inherited her gift for it because the food usually turned out edible enough to be enjoyed.

When they were finished soaking in the chilly water, I piled the noodles into one small bowl and poured a little bit in the other. I wanted Grandma to eat as much as she could as she hardly did nowadays, so I also gave her half of the loaf of bread.

That's when my mind drifted back to a time Targan said something really infuriating.

"You should just let the old thing starve," was his joke of the hour, but I wasn't laughing when he said it. "That way, you can have more food and get her impending death over with."

Targan always made harsh remarks about Grandma. I hated it, but I couldn't do much about it. Targan was roughly the size of a barge, brawn and bulky with piglike eyes and a scrunched-up face. His hair was two bird nests in one. I tried telling him to tidy it up every now and then, but he never listens. Picking a fight with him was worse. Every time we roughhoused, he nearly squeezed the breath out of me.

Once I made sure the bowl of soup was ready to be served, I slowly made my way over to Grandma's room so that I could give her her supper.

She hungrily eyed the food, taking in the mouthwatering scent of meat and vegetables.

"Enjoy, Gram," I said with a smile, drying my meat-sauce-stained hands with a sooty rag.

"It smells delightful, Dylan." She offered a softhearted smile. "Thank you."

"No problem," I said through sips of my own dinner.

Grandma and I ate together on the bed, talking about the different kings of the world and which Element we wished to possess. We always talked about royalty and magic and other things we would never be or have.

"What if you had magic?" Grandma asked suddenly, taking the last gulp of her soup.

"Well, that would certainly be amazing," I replied with a hint of emptiness in my voice. "But that'll never happen."

"It could," Grandma mused as she turned her head and stared off into space. "If only you have hope inside."

"I don't reckon hope will do me any good," I said. "Besides, I'm happy that I'm normal. Regulars lead easy lives. Magicks have a lot of weight on their shoulders."

"Boy." She seemed to be completely absorbed in her own thoughts as she sat up. "The world of magic is normal. It's up and coming, I say. One day, Elements will overrule mankind. Like a plague overrules humanity."

I had to think about this for a moment. Grandma was correct, as always. Magic was indeed becoming more accepted these days. It was once abhorred by the many noblemen and lords of the land until it became their only way of protection from the harrowing monsters. That's when the world changed and Elements were let loose. It's when all hell was unleashed. Wars broke out and everything as we knew it was changing. Humanity was downsized by a ton.

Like a plague, was Grandma's neat way of putting it. I had to agree, the population of Magicks was almost that of Regulars—people like me and Grandma, born without Elements.

Elements—I'd been consumed by them since I was a kid. I guess I'd always been into the idea of baring water out of thin air or shooting arcs of fire from your hands. But now, all that mattered was keeping Grandma and I safe. My dreams of being a Magick had gone to waste.

"Possibly," I finally said, breaking out of thought. "It wouldn't be all that bizarre if everybody had magic."

"That would be quite marvelous, yes," said Grandma before handing me her empty bowl and dozing off into a deep slumber right then and there.

Like any other plain and simple day, I would've hopped right up and went to the kitchen to wash our bowls and let them dry with a rag, then headed off to bed on the floor next to Grandma. But today was not plain and simple.

A dull thud sounded from the only other room in the house. I looked back at Grandma then up at her door, where just beyond was the kitchen where the source of noise came from.

I slowly crept my way to the other room, being as quiet and cautious as one can be when they hear a strange noise in their home. But then again, I wasn't entirely afraid. I'd heard strange noises in the cottage before—I mean, it was a cottage. Creaking wasn't exactly unnatural.

I looked around for something sharp just in case, but then decided that it couldn't be that serious. At last, I had crossed the threshold and was entering the kitchen.

At first, nothing was there. It was just the bowls lying upside down, drying on the rag along with the pot.

I was just about to determine that nothing was off and that I was being delusional. I turned around and slowly tiptoed my way back to Grandma's room. I was at the threshold again when I felt heavy breathing upon my back. I looked down and saw a shadow that casted over my entire body and half of the room. I looked anywhere but behind me, and waited for the cloud to pass by. That's when I realized clouds don't pass through homes when the windows are curtained and the sky is cloudless.

I took a deep breath—in and out—and slowly turned my body to face whatever was looming over me.

At first, I hadn't registered what was standing before me. Then when I did, I thought I must have already fallen asleep and dreaming. I pinched my arm painfully to make sure. The sharp sting in my appendage told me this was real.

Except it couldn't be. Never in a million years was what I was seeing real.

For one thing, it wasn't a cloud. Far from it, actually. For another thing, it was tall and large and unsightly, and it was standing right in my kitchen. Like it being here was normal. Like it existing was normal, when it certainly was not.

For what stood before me wasn't human. It wasn't really an animal, either. It was a monster. A big revolting monster. With patchy crimson skin, one circular eye, razor-sharp teeth, and little red horns, standing in my kitchen.

"Excuse I," it said gruffly. "But, er, is yer name Dylan? Dylan C... Cat... Catso?"

"Castro?" I corrected him out of instinct, then just as quickly cupped my mouth.

"Yes, thank," the monster said incomprehensibly. "I 'ave been sent by ther King of Cairnholm to take yer away."

What the hell was going on here? As far as I knew, monsters didn't wound up in places like Shlaido. They usually went for the Magicks because those were the people who had opposed them. So why in Merlin's beard was this one hanging around in our cottage?

I didn't know what to say. My lips and lungs were frozen. I couldn't breathe. I just stared, unblinking. Then, out of curiosity, I asked, "Where is it you're trying to whisk me off to?"

"To the castle, er course!" The monster waved a hand for emphasis, a hand that was bigger than three of my heads combined. "Ther king has invited yer to his palace for... uh... er..."

The creature thingy pulled out a small piece of parchment paper and unrolled it—or maybe it was small because his hands were so large. I was beside myself with how casual the monster acted. And did he say a king sent him? What could a monarch want with a beast?

"For, erm, the fact that you is," he started, then paused for effect, "...the Chosen One."

I simply laughed at this. "What kind of storybook did you fetch that one out of?"

I noticed he wasn't laughing, though. He was dead serious on the matter.

"I..." my voice was shaking with misunderstanding. "That's unfeasible. I mean, how can I be... well, whatever it is you think I am?"

"Simple," the monster answered. "Sapphire choose you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?" Then I let my mind wander back to Madam Timberwall's Gem Collection and remembered the Sapphire of the Sea. But I didn't understand—how could a measly gem have been anything but a gift for Grandma?

The monster seemed to have read my puzzled mind because he explained, "The Sapphire of ther Sea were transported here to tiny village, to choose somebody. Somebody worthy of be chosen."

"But it's just a gem," I argued. "It's beautiful and all, but that doesn't make a difference—it's still just a gem."

"That only you see," he chided. "Gem invisible to everyone else."

Suddenly everything made sense: why Targan hadn't seen me slip it into my pocket, why Grandma couldn't see it when I handed it to her. The gem really was invisible to them. But still, that didn't explain why this creature thought I was some kind of chosen person.

"None er that matters though," he grunted. "All yer should be look forward to is saving world. And joining kingdom."

"Hm..." I already had my answer prepared. "No. You see, I have a grandmother to care for. And besides, I need money and food, and I... I have friends here! I can't just leave those people and, well, do what you're so imprudently asking me to do: to leave my life behind! I like it here in Shlaido and I wish to stay. Apologies, but I must refuse."

"It was not question," he rasped before gripping me roughly by the forearm and forcing me into a capacious sack.

"Oy!" I shouted, but before I could utter another word or curse him, I suddenly felt a sickening pit plummet to the bottom of my stomach.

I tugged at the opening of the sack and tore it. I wormed my way out and realized I was flying. The cool night air whipped my face. We must have been fifty, sixty feet in the air. The feeling was sensational—it was as though I were a graceful dove, feathers spread wide to keep myself steady.

It was nice and easing, but I started to grow worried about Grandma. Who would feed her? Who would take care of her? I shuddered to think about Targan looking after my grandmother.

I hadn't noticed him before, but the same crimson monster was soaring right next to me. He was sopping up the breeze when I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Stop!"

He peeked his one eye open.

"Ah, look who finally woke," he grinned. "Took long enough. So you like flying?"

I nodded curtly.

I hated to admit it, but I did. I really did. Flying had been dream since I was just a boy, and now here I was. I was seriously starting to think I was just in a deep dream that I couldn't wake up from.

I looked down and saw my entire village pan into view: the trail leading up to Grandma's cottage, the infamous Earl barn, the marketplace and its neighboring merchant stands. I could see my whole home in one fell swoop.

I realized that I was leaving it, too. For a sumptuous castle and a life I didn't deserve. It made no sense to me, but I hoped that it would because my brain was bursting with questions.

I hadn't noticed how I exhausted I was. Every time I would close my eyes, aches of fatigue would come crashing over me. I didn't want to, but eventually I gave into sleep.

I collided into a dream—a real one, this time. I dreamt of my life in the castle, the possibility that this was a trap, and the letter I would immediately send to Grandma the very second I could, explaining where I was.

One second, my dream was alive and bubbling inside my mind. It was exciting me and confusing me and making me nervous. My dream was eccentric and improbable. And then, my dream turned to nothingness.