Short story based off of a full length story I’m gonna write. I’m really proud of this one.

Plz review!

Kree

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For years and years he had watched the puppet shows in the central part of the monstrous town. When he was much younger, a small child of five, he became fascinated with the small productions the puppet master put on for the children in town. He would return to the same puppet stage for six more years until his time was required for more significant things. These puppet shows amused him, enchanted him, casting a spell that almost compared to the magic he was currently learning. The stories of far off places entertained his small world of dullness and monotony and urged him to find something more in life. At the same time, it discouraged him as well.

He sat by the side of the elegant fountain, shivering in the late autumn chill, glancing at the puppet show from afar. The puppet master was putting on a classic story of the hero, Mercantaledes, and his battle against the evil Yatgof, one he had heard many times before. Mercantaledes, a bold, strong, and handsome warrior, united the races of Gelukera to fight against Yatgof, a hideous, white haired enchanter of the darkness. As Mercantaledes fought battles, won wars, and rescued lovely damsels in distress, Yatgof would rise to power only to fail in the end. Yatgof would be slaughtered and everyone would rejoice his defeat. Mercantaledes was loved, worshipped, while Yatgof was despised. Mercantaledes would always surmount Yatgof. Good would always triumph over evil. Thus, Mercantaledes was the stereotype hero and Yatgof, the stereotype villain.

There used to be a time when he wished he could be the hero, longed to be loved and admired for good. But he was not strong, no, he was far from strong. His body was weak and frail, and his build skinny and fragile. He was frequently sick and did not have a sufficient supply of energy to run around with the other boys. Clumsy with the sword and bow, he could never become an adequate warrior. He was not an attractive teenager, possessing the sinister characteristics of an albino. His stringy, white hair fell awkwardly to his shoulders and his skin was only a few shades darker than blanche. Only if you looked closely, could you distinguish the tint of blue in his colorless eyes. He could never fit the part of a hero.

Most girls his age stayed at home, aiding their mothers and siblings with the housework. The wealthier girls spent most of their time gossiping, buying fancy trinkets, looking at elegant dresses and scarves, or scanning the roads for handsome men. They boys did not play in the streets like they used to, sword fighting with sticks and holding pretend battles. Most had taken jobs to help support their families or become apprentices to the trade of their desire. It was still very early in the morning, but already, he caught sight of a few young men and women his age going about their businesses in town.

He did not make any attempt to move when he saw a few of his tormentors approaching him. Keeping his eyes focused in the direction she was supposed to be coming from, he clutched his books with an iron grip. Swallowing once, his emotionless irises refused to acknowledge the three, adolescent boys.

“Hey, Baharri, what you got there?” One of them snatched a book out of his hands in a single swipe. He began flipping through the pages and dangled it lifelessly in their air by the spine.

Damn. He should have known that they were much stronger than him. Carefully keeping his other three books to his chest, he stood up. Rolling his eyes and holding out one his arms, he said dryly, “nothing that would be of any interest to you. I can assure you, you would not have the attention span nor the intelligence to understand such things,” he sneered. “Give it here.”

The book did not go into his hands. It soared into the air for a few seconds until it rested in the hands of another tormentor. Sighing at their incompetence, he began to prepare a simple air spell to retrieve his book. Magic was performed by summoning one or more of the seven elementals: air, water, earth, fire, ice, light, and darkness. Each enchanter had their own elemental servants, and had to call upon their names when they wanted to use them. Casimir had in mind to call Ligashya, his air elemental, to levitate the book back into his arms. But before he could murmur the words of magic, another hand caught the book: a strong, firm hand, roughened with the handle of a sword. It was the hand of his younger brother, Ewan.

Ewan was only fourteen years old and had the makings of a true warrior. He trained with Lord Keh-Harsonage’s army alongside other exceptional young men. Chestnut tresses fell sloppily from the top of his head and he had big brown eyes. He was much taller than his older, delicate brother, although he was a year younger than him. Impressive muscles shaped his build yet he was light and quick. He was attractive, able bodied, and good hearted: the perfect hero.

“Lachton, what were you doing with my brother’s book?” Ewan asked in a simple, threatening voice, kept low and calm.

“We were just giving it back to him,” one of them smirked. Most of them may have feared Ewan, but his brother was their main object of torture. Their trepidation was leveled by their amusement in tantalizing the older brother.

“If I were to ask Casimir if that was the case, would he say the same?” Ewan questioned, grabbing the shirt of the boy that had grabbed the book initially.

“I don’t know. I don’t think that silent-tongued brother of yours would have much to say,” Lachton shrugged in mockery. Silently, Casimir agreed with him. There would be no need for words if Casimir had gotten the chance to burn Lacton’s skin off, inch by inch, with his fire elemental.

“Aren’t you a little too old for childish games? No doubt your masters and bosses are wondering why you’re late on the job!” Ewan released his grip and pushed Lachton away. “Now, get out of here!”

The three oppressors had mixed feelings of anxiety and pride, but they quickly hurried away, snickering as they looked in Casimir’s direction, and keeping a straight expression when they eyed Ewan.

Casimir was not the son his mother and father wanted. A small, frivolous baby at birth, his parents both knew that there was not much of a future for this child. He would not be a strong worker nor could he become the warrior his father had dreamed of. Fortunately for his father, Ewan was born, a beautiful baby boy that won the hearts of the family. Myles was born five years later and was spoiled for many, many years. Their mother spoiled the little boy, indulging him with unconditional love until a lovely baby girl, Bella, was born when Casimir was twelve. Bella, the only female child in the family, was also doted on with ribbons and dresses, always receiving the affection of her parents.

But not Casimir. No, Casimir was not the child his parents wanted. Casimir pursued an education in magic, an interest that did not spark the significance to his family. He was rejected, isolated, repelling people all around him. At the same time, his siblings were loved, admired, and a magnet to everyone's exaltations. Casimir's siblings were everything he was not; everything his parents wanted. He was certainly jealous of his younger brothers and sisters. Jealousy: one of the traits that drove men to become villains. Green envy ran deep through Casimir’s blood and the heart that pumped it.

A crowd of tall, strapping teenagers swarmed Ewan’s side. These were Ewan’s friends, none of which were fond of Casimir. Casimir avoided their glances of supremacy as Ewan handed him back his beloved magic book.

“Ewan, I could have handled myself,” he said icily without a trace of gratitude in his inflection. "I am the older brother, after all.”

In the past when they were much younger, Ewan used to defend him from bullies on the streets. Although he knew very well that he, himself, had never been able to fight back in his fragile state before the magic came, Ewan continued to butt in Casimir's affairs heroicly when they were teenagers. Casimir abhorred this dependence, vowing that one day, he would never have to rely on anyone for his survival.

“They could have really hurt you,” Ewan protested. “You know what they're like... and they are much stronger than you...” his voice trailed off.

Ewan's mindless comments usually irritated Casimir to a considerable extent. However, Casimir was not listening anymore. He caught sight of her walking through one of the streets and approaching the fountain. Night black tresses fell just above her shoulders and her gray eyes were set on only him. There was so much sincerity in those eyes, and they even posessed the warmth to melt some of the ice in his heart. She had been taller than him for many years, but finally, he was catching up: they stood at the same height. Years ago, her hair had been cut like a boy's and it was hard to believe that now, every boy from the age of twelve to sixteen had their eye on her. Curling his lips in satisfaction, he knew that this was the perfect opportunity to redeem himself. In just an entrance of one girl, he would show exactly who was superior.

“Casimir,” she acknowledged him in a friendly manner with a smile. A strand of her hair fell beside her cheek and she tucked it behind her ear in a smooth motion. She was working her magic on the boys beside Casimir in an instant.

He pushed past his brother and another to come face to face with the black-haired girl. "Ebony," he spoke her name with the lightness of clouds and the taste of sugar on his lips. There was an excess of sweetness in his tone, an abnormality only Ebony took notice of. She didn't seem to mind the attention as her head tilted to the side. In fact, he could tell she was hiding her true elatedness with a small, simple curl of the lips. "You're late," he finally said, though he spoke with amusement.

"A thousand apologies, oh Great One," she rolled her eyes. "I implore you to grant me forgiveness," Ebony wove her sarcasm into the air. She eventually observed the crowd of people surrounding Casimir and his brother for the first time. "It seems that you've kept yourself busy while waiting."

Casimir stole a quick glimpse of the jealousy boiling in the eyes of his brother's friends. Years of disrespect and avoidance for the unusual girl when she was younger had caused Ebony to dislike most of them in the present. It was mainly Casimir whom received the unconditional companionship of the amazing, fifteen year old girl. At the dawn of their coalition, they had been two rejects, joining together in partnership in order to earn enough money to enter magic school. Though Casimir would never admit it, camaraderie full of devotion and loyalty was molded during their time together. Although Ebony grew in popularity (with the male population, that is), Casimir was just as always, the outcast. This had not caused the two to grow apart.

He fed off of the envy they retained in their coveting hearts. He loved this knowledge that their glares towards him existed because he was above them in this one specific way. It was power, a queer and uncommon dominance gained from his closeness with this lovely and fascinating girl. He loved it all the same. The boys in the city loathed him for the girl's devotion for Casimir, but they dared not show it in fear of angering Ewan and Ebony. And in a sick, villainous sort of way, this power pleased Casimir.

There: another characteristic.

“Let us depart. My hands grow frigid as we stand here in idleness,” he said arrogantly with a smirk on his face. This would be his final act in his attempt to slash at the others’ egos as much as possible. He did nothing to hide his cockiness from the others: he liked to show it off as if a young warrior would show off a newly received blade. His conceitedness had even bothered Ebony at times, but she was used to him. She was the only one who was used to him. He began walking in the direction of the magic school, a mile and a half into the forest adjacent to the town

“All right, as long as you quit complaining,” she replied, catching up to Casimir’s pace.

“E-Ebony,” Ewan suddenly called out. “I-I guess I’ll s-see you later,” his voice sped and slowed down throughout his simple statement, his stammers barely heard above the hum of the marketplace.

Ebony turned her head towards him and stopped walking. Casimir halted his stride as well and turned around, but out of mere annoyance. “Bye, Ewan,” she nodded her head with an amicable expression. Casimir scowled in his impatience as he motioned her to hurry. She hastened her stroll towards her white-haired friend and then noticed the peculiar, yet recognizable look in his eye.

“Do you have to look at me that way every time I talk to a member of the opposite sex?” she questioned with an exasperated sigh.

He did not answer her. It was true: he was a bit possessive over her. Ebony was his source of power and he hated sharing. He wanted to be her only friend and sought all of her affection. The only boys, other than Casimir, she talked to considerably were Jedidiah Keh Harsonage and Ewan Baharri. Other than them, Ebony had not been "allowed" to make new acquaintances. Casimir wanted boys to envy him and only him.

What a twisted incentive for their friendship.

"I looked at you in that manner because your impact on my idiot brother never ceases to amaze me," he responded quietly after many moments of silence. They headed towards the eastern border of the city. Following a small dirt path that would abruptly end long before they reached the Mabian Woods, he gazed upon the small, homely wooden huts to his side.

"A little below expectations," she stuck out her tongue in a face of disgust. "You'll have to make up a better excuse next time."

Casimir would have grinned had it not been for the series of coughs and sneezes that attacked his lungs. His throat throbbed with pain as a dry cough burned through the passageway and penetrated the air. Grabbing a handkerchief from his pouch, he covered the bottom half of his face as he stared at Ebony, miserably.

"You've had that damn cold for over a week but you continue to face the chilly weather without a cloak. I didn't think you'd be that daft, Cas," she unfastened the clasp that held her own, tan colored cloak around her neck and wrapped it around Casimir's shoulders. "Take my cloak," she dropped the rebuking tone. "You're shivering."

"Thank you," he said in a small voice, and he refused to lift his eyes from the ground until she turned away.

She was amazing, truly amazing. Although he'd known of her being practically all his life in the city of Amalegra, they'd only been friends for three years. She was the only one who understood him and tolerated his darkness. Her presence surrounded him in a gentle mist, taming the beastlike cruelty raging through his spirit. It was as if he became a completely different person with her, possessing hints and traces of a trait called, "kindness". Such a characteristic was usually foreign to his personality. He relied on her a great deal, trusted her with his life, a security that was both a haven and an aggravation to him. Nevertheless, he was loyal to her as she was loyal to him, an agreement that could be partly interpreted as a friend-like love. However, the stone embodiment in his chest was not capable of expressing such affinity.

The straw and wooden structures beside the path transformed into a mass of maple trunks so bulky, a male adult could barely wrap his arms around it. The green treetops provided a carpet of shade on the forest floor. The dirt path began to narrow, a slithering brown snake in a viridian sea, winding through the miniscule brush and shrubs. There was never a more peaceful, beautiful place he had ever known, than the Mabian Woods. He disliked the outdoors: he preferred to remain inside, out of the sun, burying himself in books or studying spells. However, the forest calmed his restless spirit and even enhanced a feeling of freedom. Further north into the sylvan area towered majestic cliffs, hovering over rhythmic waves embracing the stone walls beside them. The woods were not infamous for violent creatures and maintained a placid atmosphere. Perhaps the creatures were afraid of the magic school built underground and into the side of a massive hill.

It was not yet the time of the New Frost Moon, but the chilly air took its toll on the vulnerable, pale skinned boy. His lips were chapped by the harsh winds, whipping at his face. His shoes were worn at the bottom, flapping up and down with every step he took, and he could feel the frigid earth searing the soles of his feet. Despite the warmth of his friend's cloak around his body, shudders frequently ran down his arms like earthquakes. Yes, he was sick. He was sick, but he'd rather face the claws of fatality than go a day without magic.

Obviously, Ebony had noticed the distress he was in. She put an arm around him and pulled him close to the side of her body for warmth. They did not take such gestures personally, for their amity ran deep enough to disregard what others might consider, "flirtatious". He did not thank her out loud, nor did she expect him to do so. In their own, unconscious method, they already had.

They finally found themselves before two monstrous, marble doors, carved by skilled dwarven craftsmen of the ancient times. The veins were violet and streaked aimlessly on the white surface, a random pattern very appealing to the eye. The doors were set in the side of a barren hill, only visible to those who had first laid eyes on it with the aid of an elemental earth guide. The doors could only be opened with the labor of a dark and a light elemental, thus enchanters or enchanters in training could solely enter the school.

"Sierscu et Drasufa ovre iators!" Casimir spoke the spell crisply and stretched his hands towards the door. An obsidian colored smoke rose from the ground, meandering its way up into the air. At the same time, a white beam of life exploded before them, spreading into a slightly larger configuration. Two indefinable figures, one black as abyss and the other white as the heavenly stars began pulling at the doors, creating a space large enough for the two teenagers to enter. The two friends did so quickly, passing the first, vacant hallway in the blink of the eye.

The hallway was lit with dozens of torches in silver perches, positioned not far from the ceiling. The walls of the main corridor were formed by the tunneling of bedrock, with colors ranging from brown, gray, and black. There were two doors at the very end of the passageway. The right led to the office of Rogremes, the head wizard and the left was a staircase dropping towards the school classrooms, well underground. Hundreds of passages were built to accommodate the large classes of students, but rarely anyone got lost. Elementals could faithfully guide them to one class to another.

Ebony immediately received attention when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She was one of the fourteen girls in this school, and perhaps, one of the most liked. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as a few boys dared one another to go up to her. Anyone who did muster enough courage to step in her radius of five feet would be sent scampering away by Casimir's dagger-like glare.

They wasted no time arriving to their assigned classroom. Casimir and Ebony took their seats at the left side of the room. Most of the students had already arrived but there were still others talking in the hallways. The square-like area was filled with six rows of desks and chairs where the students sat. The walls were made of earth, for the classroom was underground, but had been enchanted to stay in tact so they wouldn't fall apart. Of course, the walls were hardly visible, for book shelves bordered the entire perimeter of the room. A larger wooden table with a multitude of drawers stood in the front of the room; this was the teacher's desk.

They were both taught by a man named, Kenember, a fairly educated man for school teacher. He was well into his forties and his head was shaven clean, the light of the fire painting a square of white on his gleaming scalp. A black moustache and beard hid a portion of his face. A pair of golden rimmed spectacles sat on his nose, advancing the vision of his green eyes. He was a thin, not particularly tall man, and wore robes of forest green embroidered with silver lining. A black cape fell over he shoulders and swung from side to side as he walked to the front of the room. He waited a few more minutes for the rest of the students to enter and sit down before he began to speak.

"As you know," he began in his sharp tone, "Rogremes, the head wizard will be discussing your futures with you today. Although all of you will have at least five more years in schooling, you'll have to choose your specialization before long so you can study it. He will help you decide or at least help you get an idea of what you want to do," he waved one hand into half a circle. "Critzos jagisor," he summoned his dark elemental. "He will be your escort to the head wizard's office. I don't want the very few of you running around the halls and wasting time. Thomas Aman, please go with Critzos."

The red-haired boy stood up and left the classroom with the dark elemental. Kenember was called out into the hallway by another instructor so he left the enchanters-in-training to themselves. Before he left, he announced that there would be no lesson today and that the students would be allowed to talk amongst themselves quietly or think over what they would talk about with Rogremes. Not many teenagers spent this time pondering over their futures.

"What will you tell Master Rogremes?" Casimir asked Ebony casually.

She hesitated, thinking it over carefully before she could reply. "I will probably spend many years traveling all around Gelukera to study and explore the art of magic for myself. But..." she paused thoughtfully. "I'm considering future work in the Order of Datamos... as a representative of magic users. Of course, that would mean starting in the lower ranks of the armies, but I wouldn't mind a bit of military duty."

It was a good plan for the future, he nodded in agreement. To be respected in the world of enchanters and enchantresses, it was necessary to be well educated and to have spent many years as a scholar of the elementals. The Order of Datamos was Gelukera's representative government where certain members of the humans, enchanters, elves, dwarves, and other notable races of Gelukera met together. There were many parts of the Order of Datamos, the head council being the most prominent. To become a member of the head council meant being one of the most powerful enchanters in Gelukera. It was a position he intended to hold in order to gain the esteem of every magic user in the land. They would look up to him, fear him, maybe even love him: if he could ever assume a heroic role.

That was his destiny: power. His only ambition was to stand above those who had spat on him, called him names, or even look at him in a degrading way. He would make them regret how they mistreated him.

Casimir revealed a small smile before he spoke. "Yes. I think my fate will be somewhere in the Order of Datamos."

"Then we shall travel together!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And join the ranks of Datamos when we are ready."

"Well, in that case, Baharri will never be ready for the horrors of battle," a boy by the name of Kamarus scorned. A malicious grin hung crookedly on his face as he leaned against the side of her desk. "Ebony, my dear, this skinny, little weakling doesn't have what it takes for Datamos. Now, someone like me-"

"Would hardly be qualified as a city sweeper," Ebony interrupted in a cold retort, pushing him vigorously off her desk with one palm. "If you had even half a brain, you'd realize that Casimir is the best enchanter here."

"He may be smart but he's a weakling! He wouldn't last a day in the army. Two miles behind his commander, coughing up blood every second," he paused, "sir!" he said in a squeaky voice in a horrid attempt to imitate Casimir. "Can we stop and rest? I must have walked over two hundred feet!"

The class listened in on the present persecution of Casimir Baharri and laughed at Karamus's comment. "It's a wonder he makes it to school and back every day. That's a total of three whole miles!" One jeered loudly.

"I think you have to live past twenty in order to join Datamos," another one taunted.

"Who would endanger all of Gelukera by putting him in Datamos?"

Derision twisted in and out of his ears. Serpentine scoffs strangled his heart, sending him into an abyss of thought. What was acrimony but a hysterical flame, rampaging his insides out into nothingness. As he clenched his fists, squeezing every bit of perspiration his body could muster, his teeth smashed emotions to keep them from escaping. There was only darkness, an overwhelming darkness shielding his eyes from their faces. His dreams were being torn apart, piece by piece, and his hopes suffocating in their sneers. Their ridicules were meshed together in an earsplitting scream while in the distance, he could hear very faintly, his only friend fight for his honor. There was so much hatred, mutual hatred, from him to the others and the others to him. They would never admire him. They could never love him.

He slammed his fists on the desk and rocketed to his feet. "Someday you will bow down to me!" he bellowed in a voice he did not recognize. Normally, such comments would be taken as an incredible joke, but not now. "Someday you will tremble at the sound of my name and melt at every word that comes out of my mouth." There was fear, so much fear subjugating their features. They were listening. "I will become the most powerful enchanter the world has ever known and you will all succumb to my will! You will serve me and I will make you suffer! Suffer for all the abuse you put me through without mercy. Someday you will all fear the name of Casimir Baharri!" He screamed, hammering the table with every syllable spoken.

He could have smiled. There was aversion in their hearts and they feared him. Feared him! It was power again and he cherished it. They were frozen sculptures with pale faces, even paler than his own, trapped in the moment of his outburst for eternity. The few seconds of quietude settled them into trembling at his frightening passion. Nobody was laughing. Nobody dared.

They were all scared. Even dear Ebony was scared. She sat there in her chair, staring at him with sad, frightened eyes, her fingers clasped together on her lap. No, she was not terrified of him like everybody else: she was scared for him. Ebony understood him. She knew why and how he had come to be this way. She understood his emotions, his anger, his dream for something more. Ebony was scared for the future of her closest friend. She was scared that the path he took would be evil and he would end up hurting others, or getting hurt himself.

If she truly understood him then she must have known that he had no other choice. There was no other road to travel, no other option to take. He was not born into this world to become a hero; he just wasn't fit for the part. But power... power would be his, whether or not he disregarded the course of good.

He would be the villain if he had to, but he would defeat the hero in the end. Yatgof would triumph over Mercantaledes. Life was no puppet show.