The golden light of the sun warmed my pale, childish skin. The world was warm and bright, the sky clear and the grass green and lush. The other children played over by the old oak tree in the center of the pasture, the largest of them chasing all the others with a stick. Their clothes weren't like mine; their canvas shirts and sandals weren't nearly as fine as my silken trousers and leather boots. Their hands were rougher from the house chores and from the scrapes and bumps children were known to inflict upon themselves by accident. My golden red hair glimmered in the light, while their dark black absorbed the luminous rays. They were intimidating to me. There was only one thing I could do to soften my discomfort; cling onto the fabric of my mother's skirt.

  “Philibus?” my mother asked, glancing down at her terrified little boy. “Why don't you go down there and play with them?”

  Despite how it sounded, her question was not rhetorical; she expected me to respond by leaving her side. There was no arguing with her. Even if I gave her the most well-thought-out response imaginable, I’d still end up losing. I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, then released my grip and wandered down the short slope into the field.

  The walk was slow and long. My fear was immeasurable. I looked back at my mother after a moment, her face gently smiling. Every fiber of my being wanted to rush back to her side, but I had no choice. I couldn’t disappoint her, especially not when the task was something so mundane. I turned around, facing the tree once more, and moved in.

  The other children stopped upon noticing my approach. They watched as the small, red-headed prince kept his posture folded inward, against his mother’s teachings, and nearly tripped over his own feet as he moved to just outside of arm's reach.

  “Greetings,” I said softly. “What are you playing?”

  The kids all looked at each other, then back at me. The big one began to form an even bigger smirk. He quickly lunged forward, his hand approaching my shoulder. I braced for impact.

  “Tag!” he announced loudly. The moment he said this, he and all the other children scattered.

  Tag? I thought to myself. What does-

  “Go chase them!” my mother called out. “Tag them back!”

  Ah. That I could do.

  My eyes looked out, darting between each potential victim. Three boys, two girls. The boys were roughly ten, seven, and five years old. There was no way I was going to catch a ten-year-old, and seven was only a year younger and likely much more experienced than I. That left the five-year-old boy and the two girls, who I'd watched run off to hide behind another tree. Choosing them would mean running around said tree multiple times. My target was obvious.

  I bolted after the child, gaining on him quickly. As I approached, he scooped up a pile of dirt in his hand and threw it in my face, the little pebbles peppering my skin. I slowed down quickly, and he tripped over his own feet, sliding on his back across the ground about a foot. I stopped, letting myself catch my breath for a moment and wiping the dirt from my eyes, then slowly walked closer.

  “No, no, no!” he exclaimed. “Not again! Go get someone else!”

  I smiled, brushing the dust off my pristine royal shirt.

  “Get back!” the child yelled, throwing a small pebble at my chest. I continued, and he scooped up a small twig.

  “I said get back!” he screamed. A great flash emanated from his palm just as the twig exited his hand. A great blazing flame ignited midair, the projectile heading straight for my chest. Upon hitting me, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  “Woah,” the kid and I said simultaneously. The others gathered around.

  “Was that your first fireball?” One of the girls asked.

  “I think so,” the youngest boy answered.

  “Hey, don't fireballs usually knock things back?” The mid-aged boy questioned.

  “It… It wouldn't work that way against me, I don't think,” I said softly, making sure nothing on me had caught fire.

  “Why not?” asked the other girl.

  “I don't… have magic,” I answered. “It doesn't work right with me.”

  “Really?!” The oldest boy exclaimed. “That must be terrible! Imagine if you couldn't cast a single spell!”

  I didn't have to imagine. That was just… reality. And that reality was disheartening.

  “Can you do it again?” The first girl asked. “Try to shoot it at that tree over there!”

  I felt myself losing focus, lost in my own thoughts. I'd been told before, been told my whole life, but now it had finally hit me. My family line had been cursed for generations to never use their own magic. Now I began to understand why it was a curse. As I watched the young boy, a child a whole three years younger than myself, I-

  WHAM!

  I jolted upward, a bit dazed and confused. I lifted my arm off the desk and looked around. My candle had run low, and a thick book with a red cover laid open before me, one page a blur of tiny words and the other a full-page picture of a large, scaly dragonborn wielding a long wooden staff, hand drawn and copied by a very dedicated monk.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Almost ten years had passed since that memory. Ten years, and those childish feelings still persisted. I sighed, turning my eyes toward the high window above my bed. I'd probably fallen asleep for about ten minutes or so. The moon was high in the sky now, the only thing preventing its light from entering my bedroom being a passing cloud. As I turned back toward the desk, I set a piece of paper in my book, closed it, tugged the loose page a bit further out, then picked up my little stack of notes and tapped it on the desk top, straightening it up neatly. I’d already filled each and every page with almost no room left to spare. Most of them were useless by now, but I’d still review them nonetheless. Perhaps I’d find something I’d overlooked amidst my tiredness in the morning. There was always a chance.

  I glanced over at my sheath, the moonlight reflecting dimly off the crossguard. The weapon was propped up on the side of my sofa, loosely tossed there after another day of training with my mother. This specific blade was a training tool; I still had yet to get a sharp sword. My mother had assured me I’d get one when I left the castle walls. I was still waiting to know when that’d be.

  I took another deep breath, then stood myself up, my joints making faint popping noises. I’d been sitting in my chair for the past few hours, not stopping to eat, sleep, drink, or use the lavatory. As I stretched, all but the last need suddenly presented themselves to me. My eyes wandered to the glass to the left of my book, which had become empty long ago. Food, too, was out of the question. Only the guards were awake at this hour, and the gods knew I wouldn’t ask them to prepare a midnight snack. A capital city on the edge of its nation’s border needed its security maintained at all times, and jeopardizing that to remedy my cravings didn’t sound like a wise idea.

  That left sleep. I wasn’t going to sleep. I was tired, oh, was I tired, but I couldn’t afford to sleep. I’d already wasted the past few months on my rubbish poetry, doing everything in my power to ward off the thought of searching for a patron. Three days before, though, I’d finally gritted my teeth and sat myself down, pouring endlessly over book after book after book, studying and researching whole hosts of gods. The gods, I’d learned, were rather distant from the mortals. That, and they tended to get replaced quite often. The few that seemed to answer prayers directly were mostly lesser gods – Gyla, the god of moss, and Yoru, the god of ponds came to mind. As for the major gods, many seemed to be uninterested in making deals with mortals. They often referred requests down to their heralds, and rarely did those heralds ever take a message to their god. With Faula, goddess of the forests, I’d spent the better part of three hours in prayer with four different heralds, and not a single one was able to get me an audience with their goddess. A prince like myself deserved to at least have a chance to talk to one of the major gods, if only for a few minutes. I was absolutely certain I could convince one of them to take me as their warlock. I just needed one to listen.

  Suddenly, the candlelight began to flicker. I glanced around the room quickly and inched a bit closer to my sword. As the candle resumed its natural burning, I listened out for any noises and surveyed the room a bit slower, my eyes pouring over every little detail. I didn’t have any kind of night vision, but I was more adept than most in seeing within the dark. Faintly, very faintly, I saw a tiny glow on the far wall. Keeping my eyes on it, I took a few steps backward and gripped the hilt of my sword, the blade making its familiar metallic sound as it slowly slid out of its sheath. Even without a sharp edge, getting hit with a three-pound metal stick wouldn’t be fun for those on the receiving end, and if I swung with the right technique it could still do some damage. As I took a few steps forward, I noticed the glow was very slowly growing and shrinking, almost as if breathing. I held my free hand out in its direction and crouched down slightly, hoping to appear friendly to whatever was hiding itself from me.

  “Hello?” I said softly.

  I watched the glow slowly begin to shrink, and after a moment it was completely gone. As it left, the room grew brighter. Glancing up at the window to my right, I noticed a large cloud had just finished its pass over the moon.

  Taking in a heavy breath, I stood up straight once again and wandered over to the sofa, flopping down onto the cushion and resheathing my sword. It had to have been my imagination. I was tired, after all. Nothing good ever happened after midnight, not even my father’s parties. I never liked his parties. Alcohol always seemed to put me in a bad mood, and other noblemen always seemed… uninteresting to me. The parties I appreciated more were the annual autumn festivals. Sure, beer was common there, too, but the townsfolk were so much more lively and exciting. The festival was the one time of the year I got to leave the castle, though that did come with the caveat of constant watch from a guardsman or two. Still, the games and shows were far more entertaining than any conversation with a baron. I often wished I could go out into the city more, but alas, my safety seemed to be my father’s greatest concern. I understood why. I was his only son, and by extension the sole heir to the Theolian throne. Beyond that, from the bits and pieces I’d gathered from overheard guardsman conversations, my father’s patron seemed to have something to do with it, too. Leaving my castle, as it seemed, would require some kind of divine intervention. Divine intervention that I could not for the life of me acquire.

  I stood up suddenly, and my vision went dark for a moment. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, then began walking over to my dresser. If I was this tired, so tired I was starting to hallucinate, there was no way I was going to accomplish much else. With another sigh, I cast aside my cloak, then peeled off my shirt and shoved off my trousers, then opened my dresser drawer. I pulled out a long gray linen shirt and a set of similarly colored wool socks. After putting them on, I wandered over to the ladder. My bed was on an elevated platform in the corner of my room, completely opposite of my door. After I’d climbed up the five rungs, I pulled myself up to a standing position beside my bed and allowed myself to fall backward onto the mattress. I let myself sink into it a little, then kicked myself up onto it further and turned to face the right way, pulling myself up onto the pillows and dragging the blanket up over my body. The fabric quickly began to warm my body, and I slowly began to rub my hands against the upper pelt layer of the comforter, slowly lulling myself to sleep. As my heavy eyes stared down at my desktop candle, I felt my lids gradually begin to close.

  I heard the rustling of paper.

  My eyes snapped open, immediately locking onto the desk. A page from the top of my stack slowly drifted down from the open air back into its pile. I began searching for that glowing again, ripping the blankets off my body and standing up quickly. My eyes went dark once again, and I nearly fell over from the dizziness. I probably should’ve drank a bit more water.

  “Who goes there?” I called out as I regained visuals into my room. By now, I wasn’t concerned with my volume. “Reveal yourself!”

  The air fell still. There was nothing there. I waited a long moment, my eyes searching every crevice and corner I could see. Finally, as my eyes began to feel heavier and heavier and my legs began to quiver, I fell down onto my bed, releasing a defeated sigh.

  I have to be seeing things, I grumbled internally, dragging myself back into my little pocket of comfort. That, or I’m being toyed with. Either way, I’m too tired to know. I should just… go back to bed.

  As I finalised my sleeping position, I rolled over onto my side, turning myself away from the rest of my bedroom. My mind had been worn down to a nub. I couldn’t possibly have been thinking clearly. With how heavily fortified the castle was, I severely doubted anyone could have entered my room in secret. Even if they had, I doubted I could realistically defend myself. My mental aquifers had run dry for the night. I could barely even keep my eyes open, let alone fight off an invader. I just hoped if someone had come to end me, they’d do it after I’d already fallen asleep.

  And so I waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  Until

  Finally

  I was asleep.