The Cut of Fate

1. The Lost -Rosalie

The frigid morning air filled with the foggy breaths of the townspeople of Burble Creek set up their booths, awaiting a day filled with travelers. The town was small but well known, being the last town in the Ailwen Empire before you crossed into the Elvin territory.

Setting up the blacksmith's booth was his assistant, a young woman wearing a light blue long-sleeved tunic and tan britches, her head covered with the hood of a dark wool cloak. Her dress often went overlooked, even the bigots knew the impracticality of wearing a skirt in a smith shop.

"Why don't you go and get a pastry from Agatha, it is a special day," a gruff voice sounded from behind her, when she turned he threw her a silver piece. Edwin, the man who raised her, gave her a warm smile nearly indistinguishable from his dark beard.

There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked over her, incredibly proud of the woman she had become over the last twenty-two years.

"Business has been slow lately," she fidgeted, "I was hoping for the morning off."

The old man chuckled, "Roe. Go look around at the new wares, just try to stay out of sight of those cretins." He gave her a pat on the shoulder, "I trust you."

She didn't waste any time. Taking the back way to Agatha's bakery would be out of the way, but for her, it would be the easiest way there. Agatha usually sold them bread cheaply, so long as Rosalie helped unload the orders once a month. A few months ago someone had traded Agatha a tome; one she promised Rosalie for ten silver pieces if no one offered her a better deal. And today was the day that the caravan of traders would be returning to Burble, meaning by tonight she could finally learn to control her power without the amulet altogether canceling it out.

As she traveled along the back ally, she noticed quite a few caravans arriving and setting up their wagons, even a few soldiers seemed to wander into town. There was a moment of pause when she noticed something in the air. A buzzing almost, but instead of hearing it, it was a feeling in her chest. Deciding to ignore it, she moved silently with only the sound of her boots against the cobbled ground being heard in this desolate area.

"I see the little witch was let out to play today," a taunting voice sounded from behind the corner of a building. The group she hoped to avoid stepped out, and her eyes quickly moved to the ground. She didn't want to pick a fight, she just wanted to get some breakfast and enjoy her morning.

"My mother would kill me if I came out in public like that," A familiar snarky voice laughed, a girl in a plain gown and vibrant sleeveless tunic raked her eyes over Rosalie, "You might as well be a man in that outfit, but I guess the fool of a father you have would have preferred that." Snickers sounded around them.

"We're too old to continue these games Kaelyn," Rosalie was doing her best to bite her tongue as she brought up Edwin. He had gotten nothing but grief when he took in the child that the village had left to die outside the wall. When her aptitude for magic was discovered as a young girl, the only thing that stopped the village from running her out was his threat to leave too, and losing their only blacksmith was not a viable option.

"Maybe if you didn't have those demonic powers we would be nicer," a boy younger than her said smugly.

"Reece," Rosalie clenched her fists, "There are war mages that work for the king, the travelers tell stories all the time–"

"Hogwash," he snapped, "My father has been to the capital, the only people with magic are on from the Orc's territory, and the Elves. It's a sin in the face of God and only used by witches. Evil. Witches." His words almost felt as though they had been snarled at her. Feral for someone whose father was a priest.

Rosalie only took a deep breath and turned to walk away, "I will not partake in these childish games any longer."

She was quickly cut off.

"I saw you selling rabbit hides and I know you get paid wages. I bet you've unmasked quite a bit of silver."

"Reece, your father is one of the richest people in the village, what need do you have for a few silver pieces," her anger was slowly getting the better of her, but she didn't know what to do. She wasn't just going to allow them to steal from her. He stepped closer and whispered in her ear, too low for the others to hear, but he might as well have screamed it.

"I know you're planning on buying that book from that decrepit baker, and I won't allow it." Her eyes went wide and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's none of your business what I do with my money, I actually earned it unlike how your father gives you anything and everything." She snapped at him.

He was quick to shove her back, though she managed to catch herself. She clenched her fists, maybe if she had been taller or looked less plump she would have even been intimidating, unfortunately for her, no one in the group seemed even the slightest bit scared.

"Witches don't deserve pocket change," Reece's smirk made her sick, but when he pushed her once more she could feel nothing but searing anger. When one of the other men tried to grab her, she laid into him. She wanted to believe her body was reacting faster than her mind, but that wouldn't be true.

She knew a well-placed punch would break his nose. She also knew she had more than enough strength to do so. She could feel the crunch even through the fingerless wool-lined gloves. She wasn't surprised by the blood pouring from his nose, or his cries of pain, but it appeared others were. Their eyes had gone wide, as had hers, and she took that moment to bolt. She never wanted to fight them. Her temper was usually so tame, perhaps she had finally had enough.

Out of the alleyway, she ran, like a lamb from ravenous wolves. Her shoulder crashed into one of the soldiers who entered the town, the crest he bore gave him away.

"I'm sorry!" She called back as she ran, doing her best to escape the group.