Essence refers to the energy that makes up the foundation of creation. It can be found in all things; from the grandest mountains to the deepest seas. the world around us constantly produces this energy. However, since it has no will to guide itself most of this energy is simply released to flow back into existence and be repurposed into something new.

  It is believed that as these waves of creation took shape, they became the first gods. The gods began to take the wild and untamed energy and gave it form, creating the planet we call Sultarra.

  As the millennia passed the gods grew restless with the lack of anything new. Only when Resami, chose to take some of the energy as it dissolved and repurposed it into something new did the other gods take note. Resami took the energy of the earth and light and created something new, something that could use the energy to change itself. This was the first life on Sultarra.

  The first sprouts began and from it, the other gods grew excited. They all began to take the abundant energy and use it to create this new form that could grow and change. Some created beautiful trees and plants that gave color to the land. Others created beasts that roamed as they pleased. But as the many gods created without care one noticed that this "life" began to take too much energy for itself to grow. When the excess from the world was not enough, it began to take from the energy that sustained the world.

  Mountains began to crumble and oceans began to shrink. Some of the creatures began to consume other creations, be they plants or other creatures. If this continued the world that gave this energy would be consumed entirely. The others would not listen to his words, too wrapped up in their own amusements. So, this one god, Beymoor, decided to take matters into their own hands. Beymoor took the energy of life and implanted within it a sickness. This sickness would cause its core to crack over time and eventually, the vessel would start to lose the energy that sustained it. Beymoor had created "decay".

  Many of the other gods were furious at what Beymoor had done. Only half felt shame when the destruction their creations had caused was laid before them. The other half were angry that their beloved creations had been destroyed. This sickness was implanted and spread to the core of all life.

  If they could not keep their creations, they would find a way around the blight. Resami, the first to create life, was also the one to produce a solution. Why not have the old vessel create a new one? And so, the ability to reproduce was given. The other gods were quite pleased with this and began to focus on making their creations change with each new vessel. To Beymoor they were still consuming the energies of the world.

  Beymoor and those who believed that the gods should stop creating argued with those who believed it was their right to do so. The arguments grew as each side tried to outdo the other. One created freezing water to stop the flow of energy. In response, the other gave their creations the ability to withstand the cold through fur or thicker bark. They grew worse until eventually, they had enough. The gods of creation and death began to fight. For the first time in existence, gods were destroyed.

  Both Resami and Beymoor led vicious battles to destroy the other. Gods began to have their cores crack and break. The two creators of life and decay watched their friends and allies fall until they could stand it no more. They met on the broken land that was the result of their battle and came to an agreement. They would each be allowed one last creation. After that, they would retreat to the dark edges of existence and watch from afar.

  Resami and the side of life created the races. Beings that could think as the gods did and they gave them the ability to control essence. To use it to strengthen themselves in the hope that one day they would destroy the awful curse of decay. They could not make them too strong or Beymoor and his would do the same. So they placed a limit. The vessel of the races would start weak and grow stronger. It would take time before they could touch the essence for themselves as they needed to establish a strong core. This limit varied per race to see how much time needed to be spent strengthening a core. For some like humans, it would take fifteen years and for others like the Elves, it would take fifty. Some longer, some shorter but all with the same concept. Even with a strong core, the will it would take to actively manipulate and use essence was not an easy task. Few could show the focus and commitment it took to grow beyond their natural abilities.

  In turn, Beymoor implanted seeds deep inside the ground. From these seeds grew creatures of life. However, they were warped with the ability to consume essence from creations of life and changed the essence they consumed into a new form that drove them mad. Endless hunger, hatred, and fear would propel them to seek and destroy those who opposed their creator. To match what the opposing side had done, these demons would start weak and small but grow and change to become more powerful as they consumed more life.

  Thus were the races created and thus became the demons that sought to destroy them. With both sides satisfied with their creations, the gods retreated to the edges of creation to watch. Only hoping that their champions would emerge victorious.

  --- ---

  Hugh found himself sitting in the cold, damp cage as it rattled along a dirt road. Road was too generous a word for it. It was just some wagon tacks through the rough, stone-riddled dirt that someone had traveled before.

  The area was mostly rock surrounded by mountains with the occasional bush or tree that had decided to try its luck in this inhospitable region.

  The rain reflected Hugh's mood. Gloomy and slowly getting worse. There was no room in the wooden cage to stand or stretch his legs and he had been stuck in it for 3 days already. The little muscle he had ached with a deep pain that wasn't likely to get relief anytime soon. Not to mention the chill he felt from having only dirt and his own filth to keep the wind at bay. At least the cage had a solid top to keep the worst of the weather out.

  Hugh glared at the two guards in the front seat, hoping they were also miserable in the chilly weather and rough wooden seats. But at least they got to sleep in tents at night and eat some kind of meal. The only ration they gave him was water. But hunger was a familiar feeling to Hugh. Honestly, his was only a slightly worse situation than he had been in before being taken away.

  As much as he hated the filth that stuffed him in his newest torment, only to transport him to somewhere no one would tell him, it wasn't too different from his normal life.

  The young man of fourteen originally came from a small city called Ordith. He'd been an orphan living on the streets most of his life and found that compassion and kindness were rare. Even when they were to be found there was always the chance someone just wanted something from him. To use and discard him again.

  Food was hard enough to come by in times of good harvest and this year had been anything but. During these times the food he could get through honest work wasn’t enough to keep him alive in the long term. He had had to resort to stealing his meals as he had done in the past. This time, however, he had been caught.

  Instead of bruising him up or giving him some extra hard work to earn the meal like usual, they locked him up in a shed barely big enough for him to sit down comfortably. Certainly, not enough room to lay down when he slept. After two days of nothing other than small vermin scampering too quickly to catch and water trickling down the wall in the dark damp room the king's men came.

  Their armor was hardened leather with tarnished brass buckles that covered their chest and head. It looked like the Symbol of the Empire of Scouring Light and the current royal family, a huge tree with a magnificent red canopy of flames. At least that was what was supposed to be on the center of the chest piece, but most had faded with plenty of time and different owners. Looks like times were tough everywhere.

  "I'm sorry, please I won't do it again" he pleaded, desperate to defend himself. The fear in his gut almost matched the hunger.

  "Shut it, boy" the hag who owned the bakery growled.

  "Please, I'm sorry. I'll make up for it somehow! Just don-"

  Hugh fell back, dazed as the baker's hand smacked him across the head.

  " I said shut it. One more word out of your miserable, thieving, little mouth and I'll make sure you can't eat again let alone speak!"

  Hugh was silent, dreading any further violence but the woman's attention went back to the guard.

  "There, a young one just like you asked for. Probably just as young as my girl if not younger. Still can't touch essence anyway." She said, almost like she was pleading.

  The large bearded man looked Hugh over, "Definitely scrawny but he doesn't exactly look as young as you said. How old are you boy?" The man demanded.

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  Hugh didn't know what they were referring to but a small spark of hope started inside him. Perhaps they were looking for young boys to bring up into soldiers. Most people would fear the idea of becoming a part of the king's army, but Hugh didn't see it that way. As far as he knew they would feed him, give him a place to sleep, train him to fight, and show him how to tap into essence. He saw this as an opportunity to escape the cruel hand fate had dealt him.

  "I'm fourteen summers, sir!" He said proudly trying to make himself bigger. "I'll be fifteen soon though and I'll be able to tap into the essence of the world then."

  The soldier laughed and turned to the baker, " It's close but if he still has yet to touch essence then we'll take him too."

  Hugh was filled with a small amount of hope. "I'm going to be one of the king's men!" He whispered excitedly.

  The man, who apparently still heard him, laughed even harder this time. Something about Hugh was apparently pretty funny. It took almost a whole minute for him to stop chuckling.

  "No." He said with amusement. "No, you're not going to be a soldier."

  He then took some rope from his waist and grabbed Hugh by the arm. The boy was too weak to struggle as he was tied up and thrown over a shoulder like a sack of grain. Easy to do when Hugh hadn't had enough to eat growing up. He was small in stature and basically, a bundle of sticks with ratty brown hair and pale sickly skin stretched over it.

  "This makes ten percent, so your girl can stay. You're fortunate we already picked our quota before you showed us the boy or we might have taken them both."

  As the woman started sobbing with relief Hugh was taken back into the small city where men and women were crying, shouting, and being held back by more soldiers. They all wore similar armor to the one carrying him.

  "What are you going to do with me?" Hugh panicked as he wriggled on the man's shoulder.

  He got no answer as he was shoved into a small wooden cage with six other children. He tried to get answers from the other men in armor as they prepared the wagons, but he'd be lucky if he could be heard over the screaming and crying surrounding him. Testing the bars of the cage got him a hard poke with a stick from one of the guards that was watching them.

  "Knock that off, ya ain't going anywhere!" The bastard growled at him.

  Hugh clutched his ribs, already tender from being thrown around. He didn't think he would be joining the guard by this point. In fact, he was certain that there was nothing good in store for him. At least there were other young here. If he was going to suffer more, at least the people who had watched him struggle were going to suffer too. He recognized some of the children surrounding him. Two of them were part of a group that would attack him all the time. They would pretend they were doing some sort of heroics by fighting off a terrible villain, but they were just trying to get attention from their parents and the other adults around them.

  The first was Kurtis Ressard, the son of the biggest farm owner surrounding Ordith. Kurtis was a runt compared to the rest of his siblings, but that didn’t mean he was small. His two older brothers were just absolute mountains of men. Comparing a hillside to mountains doesn’t mean the hill is small, just smaller than the mountains. He had brown hair the color of dirt and tanned skin from working outside. He was crammed into his cage looking dumbfounded to be in this situation.

  The second boy was currently shaking his cage like an angry demon and spewing off curses to anyone he could see. The mean guard from before tried to shut him up with the stick but that just enraged him further. This was Venerith Ser’Casmuth. The Ser’ in front of his surname marked him as the son of the City Lord, Lord Martess Ser’Casmuth. It was no secret that his father hated him. He preferred his older Bother as an heir and adored his younger sister. This just left Venerith as an unwanted extra that may have some value if he married him off but was otherwise useless in his father’s eyes.

  The blonde boy was the main aggressor during these horrible sessions of torment. Kurtis would hold him in place as Venerith laid blows upon him as though he had personally offended him by existing. They would make some arbitrary excuse for their cruelty. Sometimes it was because he had been caught stealing food, others it was because he was looking too suspicious. Occasionally Venerith was so mad at his father that he couldn’t fabricate a reason. These were the worst of the beatings.

  The other children were younger than him by a few years and were part of the groups of children that just avoided him. Just like all the adults who watched on and did nothing to stop his tormentors. After all, he was not their child. He was the thieving urchin that was to be avoided and looked on with disgust.

  Now look at them. Wailing and distraught. Hugh certainly wasn’t in a better situation than the other children, but he felt a small amount of satisfaction at all the people who overlooked his suffering. ‘Now you can feel just as helpless as I have all these years.’

  Once everything was packed the retinue began to leave the small city. They Traveled for half a day before they pulled off into the forest a short way. Concealed by the slowly dying trees was a small camp.

  A man in what appeared to be a cook’s uniform greeted the man who had originally tied Hugh up.

  “Captain Rudwin! Just in Time for dinner, eh? I’ve got some rabbit stew on the pot when you’ve all finished setting in.”

  “You’re a blessing from the gods, Tubbs. We’ll be over shortly, no point in unpacking much when we should be heading out within a day or two.” The burly man replied.

  Captain Rudwin was, apparently, the name of the man who had first taken Hugh. Not necessarily the most useful, but any information was welcome at this point. The trip was mostly quiet up to this point. The guards were clearly tired, and the new prisoners were too shocked by the day’s events to even whisper to each other. At least Venerith had stopped shouting obscenities after about an hour of traveling. The guards learned that jabbing him with the stick only made him angrier and eventually just ignored him until he burnt himself out. Now he was sulking and glaring at anyone who made eye contact.

  “All right!” Rudwin Shouted. “The faster you put up the light tents and dig some small shit pits, the faster you get food in you. We won’t be here long so don’t take out anything you don’t absolutely need. Get to it!”

  The ten or so other men who were milling around the wagons immediately started unloading small bundles of cloth and stakes from the wagon while two of them grabbed shovels and went out into the forest to go dig a hole. Hugh watched them set up a small camp with an efficiency that had clearly been practiced many times before. The work was done in less than fifteen minutes and the men moved over to the large pot that was sitting on a small pile of dying coals.

  Hugh was amazed. Unlike when he helped in the fields or did menial but heavy labor in the market, no one was yelling. No one told them how to do their jobs or to work harder. Captain Rudwin didn’t even check their work! He just walked away like he knew the job would get done and put it out of his mind. He also set up a different tent. It was large enough to fit ten men standing up but, simple enough that he had it set up just as fast as the other tents. Once done he made his way over to the pot of stew by where Tubbs was setting up bowls and spoons.

  Only once everyone had finished their task did they move to grab a bowl and get in line. The burly and frowning cook took the lid off the pot and immediately started dishing out the dark brown contents into the bowls. After a moment of staring at the food, the smell hit Hugh like a kick to the stomach. It was one of the most delicious-smelling things he had ever encountered. The savory smell of meat and vegetables that had been cooked in wild spices all day was almost a form of torture to the caged boy.

  He heard a moan of frustration and it took a moment to realize it hadn’t come from his own mouth. He turned to see the Ressard boy drooling in his cage. He looked like he might start chewing on the wooden bars of his cage. Perhaps not as hungry as Hugh, but definitely a close second.

  None of the soldiers acknowledged them of course. They ate their food and chatted amongst themselves as they sat around on logs or leaned back on trees. They eventually started to get up and bring their bowls to a bucket of water. The first ones done with their meals were stopped by the Captain. Hugh couldn’t make out what he was saying but he pointed in the direction of the carts. The subordinates nodded and grabbed the bowls before they were rinsed and refilled with stew. They were more sparing about these bowls and brought them in the direction of the cages.

  Hugh couldn’t believe it! Were they going to give them food? Not simply hard rations either but actual food? Hugh couldn’t stop his stomach from growling as the bowls came to the captives. The first were given to the youngest four children who began to smile and thank the guards. They immediately forgot about the hardships of the day. The hardships caused by the very people giving them the bowls of food.

  Hugh could understand better than anyone how some food could erase bad blood. The same people who worked him like a farm animal and yelled at him for being a slow good-for-nothing became his saviors the moment they handed him a heel of bread. Granted the goodwill only lasted a short while but for now it would be enough. Finally, the two men brought three bowls to the eldest boys. When Hugh got his disappointment immediately crushed his soul.

  Water. The only thing in the bowl was water. Because of course it was. Why would it be anything else? Well, at least he could use the smell left over from the actual stew to pretend he had gotten some and fill his belly with water for a short while.

  Kurtis on the other hand sounded like he might cry, “B-but, what about the stew? This is just water, there’s no way this is what was in that pot!” he said, growing increasingly panicked.

  The soldiers said nothing as they placed the final bowl of not stew in Venerith’s cage. The young man growled and threw the bowl at the one who had given it to him, soaking a portion of his uniform.

  The man looked furious but said nothing. He simply picked up the bowl and stood there, glaring at the boy who looked smug in his rebellion. The reason for his silence became obvious as Rudwin’s voice spoke with calm venom,

  “If that had been the stew and you had just wasted it by throwing it on one of my men, as he does you a service no less, you would have been licking it out of the dirt.”

  The air began to grow hot with every word that came out of the Captain’s mouth. He slowly stepped up to face Venerith’s cage and looked at him with a coldness that seemed counter to the heat in… his…voice?

  “Rations are tight and we can’t afford to waste them. That’s why only the youngest get to eat. They are more valuable to the effort and need to be kept in better health. Since it was just water, I will overlook this waste of my generosity.’

  Hugh realized it wasn’t the threatening words making him sweat, the air around the man was actually heating up. Small heat waves could be seen coming off his armor. This man could control his essence. And by the looks of it, he had a preference for using fire to enhance his core. Perhaps he also used nature as The Empire of Scouring Light was known for. If he did he wasn’t using it now.

  Hugh Gulped, Kurtis was quaking in his cage, and Venerith was glaring back.

  “The Ser’Casmuth bloodline is well known for being able to control its essence. Once I turn fifteen I’ll be able to control essence and you’ll be groveling like before me all common blood should.”

  The captain began to laugh again. The same laugh he had when Hugh had asked him if he was going to be a guard. The heat in the air died out in an instant. Eventually, he regained his composure.

  “If you think you can simply master essence the moment you come of age you’ve had a worse education than I thought. It takes years of using essence and enhancing your core to gain any practical amount of utility from it. Not that you’ll even get the chance to find out.” He said with a satisfied grin.

  “You don’t know anything!” the angry boy spat, even though Rudwin had clearly demonstrated he could use essence beyond the average human.

  “I know that you’ll be getting no more water until Hodges receives a proper apology. Judging by your attitude, you better get used to being thirsty.”

  With that, the three soldiers walked back to camp. The dishes had been cleaned during the hostile scene and fresh wood piled into the old pit of coals. Rudwin stepped up and in a casual display, bent down and placed his hand facing the pile of wood. A small flame burst forward and held until the kindling caught and a new fire began. The man didn’t even flash a smirk in their direction. He obviously didn’t care about making sure Venerith knew he could do more than make himself an oven. Hugh could practically hear the other boy grinding his teeth.

  “I hope I still get water,” Kurtis whispered to himself.

  ‘Me too.’ Thought Hugh. ‘Me too.’