Chapter 2

"Sable!" shouted Elias, sitting straight up from his sleeping position.

A deafening blast of thunder had startled him awake, and a cold sweat clung to his body like the pouring rain. Instinctively, he reached out for Sable, who always slept near him. Cold, wet cobblestone met his hand where warm skin normally was, snapping him fully back to the present.

"Oh, yeah..." he said to himself.

Sadness washed over Elias as he remembered that he was alone. A couple of years after arriving in Oclus, Sable was adopted from the streets by a rich family. At the time, they had said it was because of her unusual hair color, but Elias never could figure out why they didn't take him too. After all, his snow-white hair was just as unusual as her crimson hair. 

Sable had completely objected to leaving Elias alone, but he eventually forced her to go. He knew she would have a much better life, and a chance at her dreams, by going with this family. All he had hoped was that she wouldn't forget him when she made new friends. That was when they were fifteen.

Now, at eighteen, Elias was still sleeping on the streets, and if it were possible, his conditions had gotten worse. In the past, he would sleep on the Upper Streets, where food scraps were plentiful, and rain water never pooled around him.

Ever since the Aristocracy took over the Upper Streets though, all of the homeless families had to relocate - most ending up in the lower half of the city where Elias currently resided.

Living on the streets is never an easy thing to do, but at least in the Upper Streets, it was bearable. Down in the Lower Streets, life was hell for Elias.

Flesh Rot was a common occurrence in the Lower Streets because of the constant dampness, and Elias had seen more than his fair share of people with greenish-black colored skin from it. Various gangs of children also called the Lower Streets home, and they would often prey on people who were alone.

Worst of all though were the fleas. They infested every piece of fabric in the Lower Streets, and it was impossible to get away from the constant itching.

The fleas didn't come out of thin air - a fact that Elias was reminded of when a large rat scurried past his sleeping area. Absent mindedly, Elias scratched his face, somehow feeling itchier every time he saw one of the large rodents.

"You know, if you keep scratching your face like that, your skin will start to fall off."

Elias whipped his head around at the voice, fully expecting to see one of the City Guard members that often visited the many whorehouses in this part of the city.

Instead, he was met with the pock-marked face of Brayden, the leader of one of the larger teenage gangs in the area.

"Leave me alone" he said sternly, "I've told you before, I'm not interested in joining your gang."

"Aww, the poor baby wants to be left alone" said Brayden mockingly. "I guess we better do as he says boys, otherwise he might hurt us."

The two boys that accompanied Brayden began to laugh at their leader's sarcasm. Elias wasn't exactly intimidating to look at. Standing at about 5'10", and thin due to being malnourished. It looked like a gentle breeze would knock him over.

Brayden wasn't intimidating either, but he was the exact opposite of Elias body-wise. He was a few inches shorter, and plump from years of eating fairly well, at least by Lower Street standards. Unlike Elias though, he was born as a Wielder. Access to magic abilities is how he came to run his own gang, even though he wasn't fit enough to actually do so. 

The laughter died down after a few seconds, providing a brief opening for Brayden to make his next move. He stopped his fake trembling and surged forward towards Elias, catching him off guard and knocking him to the wet, cobblestone street. 

"In case you forgot" said Brayden, "you aren't in charge here. You're just a no-family, no-Magic having loser that has to do whatever I say."

Elias never angered easily, but Brayden always seemed to know how to get under his skin. Sitting on the hard ground, he found himself clenching his fists and gritting his teeth in rage.

Shooting up from the ground, Elias threw a punch as hard as he could at Brayden's face. Unfortunately for the portly boy, he simply wasn't as quick as Elias.

The punch connected with Brayden's face with a sickening crunch. Blood exploded from his nose, dripping onto the cobblestone street before being quickly washed away by the rain.

"You bastard!" shouted Brayden, clutching his nose. "I'm going to make you pay for that!"

The two boys who were with Brayden had to help him back to his feet, which Elias couldn't help but smirk at.

Shakily, Brayden extended the hand that was clutching his face, palm pointed towards Elias. The blood that covered it started steaming into the dimly-lit morning air, almost lost in the mist caused by the still-pouring rain. 

"You're going to burn for hitting me!" shouted Brayden.

A wicked smile spread across his broken face, and small orange sparks began blinking in and out of existence in front of his open hand. 

Elias couldn't help but have a flashback to the day his village burned. Brayden's voice quickly snapped him back to reality.

"I hope you've made your peace, asshole, because you're about to die!"

Brayden flexed his hand, a motion Elias had seen numerous times in Blacksmith forges. He braced himself for the fireball, finally resigning himself to the fact that he may be better off gone than living on the streets alone for another day.

There was no pain - simply a warm breeze. Opening his eyes, Elias could just see more steam coming from Brayden's hand.

Elias laughed uncontrollably; the realization of what happened finally setting it.  

"I guess you aren't as talented a Wielder as you thought" said Elias. "I mean, shit, you can't even create a flame hot enough to withstand the rain."

Now it was Elias' turn again. He covered the distance between them in a few short steps, watching Brayden's expression change from confusion to pure terror the whole time.

He threw another punch towards Brayden, this time aiming for his round stomach. It connected solidly, driving the wind from his lungs and dropping him to his hands and knees in pain.

Without any hesitation or second thought, Elias followed up with a massive kick, aiming for the defenseless boy's head. 

The two boys that came with Brayden could only watch helplessly as their leader was sent sprawling across the cobblestone, blood continuing to pour from his face. 

Not wanting to continue a fight with someone who just beat their leader, they picked Brayden up by his armpits, and dragged him back down the street they had come up from, leaving Elias alone once again.

Elias was proud of himself for handling the situation, but he was concerned about how easily he had resigned himself to death when Brayden tried to scorch him.

Above all though, his hand hurt. From past experience, Elias knew that no matter how many times you hit someone, it never felt any better to your hand. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, his was throbbing with pain.

"Hopefully he learned his lesson", he thought to himself. 

Elias looked towards the sky, finding peace in the cold rain that poured over his face. From his estimate, there were a few hours of darkness left before the sun would begin to peak over the Lower Streets buildings. 

Having already had enough excitement for the day, Elias decided it was best to just lay back down and try to get some sleep while he still could.