A voice could be heard. “Wak… up… Lyo… wake up,” The voice continued. “Wake up already!” The voice yelled.

  With a start, the young boy rose from his quilted covers, shocked from the urgency of that nagging voice.

  “Mother please,” the boy begged. “Let me sleep for a bit more, it won’t harm us to sleep in for a day or two,” he pleaded.

  “Boy!” she nagged. “Todays the festival that you’ve been looking forward to, and yet you want to sleep in. What a troublesome child you are.” The boy climbed out of his bed tiredly while trying to chase his fleeting dream. Before he could yawn, his mother continued berating him for his exhausted attitude.

  “Run to the forest and gather enough firewood for the burnings. If you're late I’ll tell the Man-at-Fields to skip your meal,” She threatened. “I’ll go now,” The boy said. “The feast is the only thing this festival is worth anyways,” He said before ducking his mothers’ hand. Before she could get another scolding to grace his ears, he ran out of their cottage and started heading towards the forest.

  The buildings he ran past created a large village built by stone, wood, and mud. His shoes picked up dust and dirt with each step, and his neighbors either greeted or yelled at him as he past them by. Passing a bridge that was built over nothing but wet ground, he found himself in front of a gleaming forest.

  The boy wasted hours, tripping over roots and picking the flowers along his path, before he picked up his first piece of drywood. Due to boredom, he climbed his favorite hill and looked upon his growing city.

  The village of Karth was becoming larger with each passing day. The merchants from the Capital flocked to it, showing their wares to passing children while hoping their parents would come to buy. Knights were stationed here, to uphold the peace and any criminals found their home in the gaols or the cemeteries.

  Life was peaceful and quaint in Karth, without strife or pestilence. Yet God had decided that peace did not suit this city. The boy watched from his hilltop view as beacons of light, five-fold, descended upon his home. He rushed through the forest and to that bridge, before finding himself within another land, one wrought of dreams.

  “Wak… up… boy,” A voice commanded. “Wake up already”He heard once more. With as start the young boy rose from an aching bed with broken beams.

  His voice cracked as he screamed, remembering the violence that he fell asleep to. He screamed with a course throat and clear anger in his voice. “You Witch,” he seethed.

  The elderly voice continued, “Yes… yes… I am so sorry. Taking your arm was wrong of me. I lost myself to the moon,”she explained. Through blinking eyes the boy found the older woman looking at him apologetically, with a bowl of soup within her palms.

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  Quickly searching his surroundings, his gaze landed upon his right arm, finding metal that replaced his hand. Standing as fast as he could, he knocked the soup from her hands and to the ground.

  “What of the moon?” the boy scolded. “You ate my arm and this metal weight is all you give me?” he asked.

  “I shall give you magic too,” she promised. “Or is our deal forfeit. I remember you saying that you would give anything for my teachings, but if you wish to abscond from this mountain then you are free to leave,” she reminded him.

  He felt disgust when glaring at her tearful eyes. He questioned how she could rob him of his flesh without warning, only to seem gentle in the morning. With determination he answered her, without looking away.

  “Y-Yes. Magic… it’s only what you owe me. It’s fair this way, flesh and blood in exchange for knowledge,” He answered unevenly. The boy still felt fear whenever his eyes settled upon her teeth.

  “Excellent,” she exclaimed with an open smile. “Come on. Get up from that filthy bed, your breakfast is ruined but I’m sure you’ll manage fine,” she finished. With a sorrowful sigh, the boy climbed from his perch, avoiding the wasted food on the ground.

  “Sit,” she ordered, pointing towards the dusty chair that was newly stained with blood from the previous night. He quickly decided that standing was in the best interest of his quickly fraying mind. She noticed his discontent and decided to slyly speak to ease his mind.

  “Oh relax. That won’t be the last of your blood to spill here,” she said, jokingly. Taken aback and shocked at her words, he tried to clench the hilt of the dagger he kept on his person, only for his new appendage to find air.

  “Looking for that blade of yours,” she asked with a smirk. “When learning magic, you should forfeit your man-made crutches.”

  “And this arm of mine?” he berated. “Should I cast this aside and fetch mine true flesh from within thine stomach.” He glared at her with angered eyes, wishing for her to hide from his gaze.She stared at him for a while, before speaking again, albeit softly.

  “No. That metal arm of yours is my apology. I know you won’t believe me, but I truly do regret what I’ve done,” she pleaded. “I will tell you, one of your responsibilities as my apprentice is to prevent such a thing from occurring again. I live on this mountain to avoid meeting people in the moonlight. You simply came at inopportune timing.” she explained.

  He seethed at her words. “ Inopportune timing?” he asked before calming himself. “Be that as it may, I hope I won’t regret being your student. At least I know now that you are the scariest thing on tis mountain,” he finished.

  She winced at his words, but did not correct him. Instead she asked him a question that had been lingering in her mind.

  “Alright, that is a fair assessment,” she started. “Tell me, where have you been since Karth’s destruction, you said it happened years ago, how have you survived?” she asked.

  Perking up at her inquisition, the boy clammed his mouth shut. She could see his mind working towards a suitable answer and his dour expression worried her. Finally, he opened his mouth.

  “I stayed in Karth’s ruins for a while, b-but after,”he stuttered. “After that, I roamed with bandits.”