Smoke

I grew up in a cozy cottage, a great deal away from Longbow Castle. The snotty noble folk living in their luxurious manors and exquisite villas seemed to chase away low-classed kin, but everyone was there for the great markets, along with the occaisonal depreciated gala. We were small merchants, selling common healing stones and herbal remedies to cure the soul, as Father used to say. One day I decided to go into father's storage room, a forbidden area haunted with old and forgotten goods. Or at least, that's what I believed it was, until that godforsaken morning when the essence of hatred bestowed upon the stuffy air clottered me with the temptation to dig deeper.