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Quivier's village was in the middle of two great mountains, and was blessed with a clear flowing river that ran through.

The harsh winter had left the river frozen, which cancelled out the option of putting out the fire. During winter, their main source of water was an old well and the small pond.

The old well was situated a little distance away from the village, making repeated trips to and fro would be futile, as the fire grew fiercer by the second.

As the years rolled by, the use of magic became something mere humans needed royal permission and a license to harness. Due to that new law, most common folks lived their basic lives without the intervention of the supernatural.

Creatures such as pixies, elves and beast people relocated from such remote areas, to larger cities, where their services would be better appreciated. Causing a decline in the mana and spiritual energy needed for their plants to flourish.

The west gate, as the name implies, was located West from the village square, and used to carry out those affected with one plague or the other. And, the deceased, the gate led to the village cemetery grounds. 

And at the moment, the dead were being disrespected, by the living who trampled over their gravestones, fighting one another for a chance to live.

"Children! Any child! This is the last call for any children!" The village head cried out, blocking the exit along with four of his sons.

Quiv and his family were at the back of the angry mob, desperately trying to pave their way to the front. But the cold backs of shoulders of those in front refused to budge, despite the presence of a child in their party.

It was just pure luck, that one out of the four sons was able to spot Malkin resting on the shoulders of his father at a distance.

"You there! Come forward! With the child on your shoulders!"

Quiv tapped his father on the shoulder, "he means you, take Malkin to the front dad." Quiv told his father, clinging closely to his mother. "I'll protect mom." He added, taking the woman's strong hands in his.

His mother was no court lady or some entitled maiden, she had tasted hard labour and conquered it without bating an eye. Just by touch someone's hand, she could tell how strong they were or in any case, how strong they would become.

With the fire behind them spreading even quicker, she exchanged glances with her husband, both of them wearing all knowing looks on their soot stained faces.

His father lowered his head, to transfer the child from his shoulders to Quiv's weak shoulders. "Don't drop him or I'll make you do twenty sit-ups after." His father told him, sounding less stern than he usually did.

"What are you..."

"Last call! You with the child! Move forward!" The call at the gates cried out, waving his arm to guide the carrier of the child to his direction.

"Mommy loves her little warrior more than anything." His meek mother said, kissing the forehead of Malkin, before letting lease of him.

Quiv parted his lips to protest against his parents decision, but was cut short by his father who used his shoulders to shove away the people in front of his children.

His mother joined in, employing her heavy hips and strong arms to pave way for her children to reach the gates.

Though Quiv was against the decision, the clear resolve written on his parents faces were clear. He would be insulting them if he stayed back after they sacrificed so much.

"Here. In this is all your mother and I have saved up for you to buy that grimore you want so badly." His father whispered to his hearing only, discreetly shoving the pouch into his son's sachel.

"We'll survive this honey, and meet you at the other side of the gates...but..." She took a pause, and packed her blonde hair into a ponytail, then rolled up her white sleeves to elbow length.

"Just promise me and your mother, that no matter what happens, you won't ever abandon Malkin. Promise us that you'll protect him and yourself once you both get to the other side of that gate." His father's firm blue eyes gazed into his, calming Quiv's shaky fingers.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see tears falling from his mother's eyes as she pushed and shoved whatever thing stood in her path.

"Here! They're coming!" Quiv's father cried out, pushing his son forward, as far as he could, shouting on the top of his lungs.

"Please take my children!" His mother bellowed, getting back on her feet whenever she was knocked down

Quiv did his part as well, and tore his way through envious and unforgiving shoulders, pushing through the stench and darkness. Making sure not to let go of his brother whom he balanced on his wobbly shoulders.

"Last call!"

"Am coming! Am coming!" Quiv yelled, using what Little might he had to stand on his own two feet, refusing to be knocked down.

The voice of his parents calls sounded fainter as he advanced forward. Quiv spared a second and looked over his shoulder, to catch a glimpse of the people he called family. The people he was leaving behind.

His weeping mother perched herself upon his proud father, who wrapped his arm around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

Convinced, he tore his gaze  away,pulled apart two more shoulders and lunged forward towards the front, not caring about however he landed. Just as long as he was able to get to the front, as long as he reached the gates, then his parents would be proud.

The front of the mob was filled with disgruntled villagers, who protested against allowing Quiv and his brother leave first.

"Leave." The head of the village told him, his emotionless eyes charging Quiv to escape now, while he still could.

The youngster wasted no more time and ran through the gates which were opened slightly for only him to pass by. After he had taken three steps away, the gates were shut immediately, preventing others from leaving, or entering the burning village.

Outside the village, stood about a dozen of boys his brother's age, all crying and walking aimlessly, searching for their parents. It was then he realised why the village head kept the gates sealed, and furthermore why he had to get out of the area soon.

"Next! The women! Any woman forty and under come forth! Any woman..."

The head's call was cut short by some men at the frontline, who understood all too well the order this evacuation would go.

"Screw that!"

"Am saving my own hind!"

"Everyone for himself!"

The protesters wasted no second and attacked the head of the village to make their escape. His sons tried to intervene, but were subdued almost immediately and sent into the unforgiving mob.

In a mere matter of seconds, the gates were broken down and angry protesters ran through them, starting a reckless stampede, charging directly at the crying children, who sat by the gravestones.

Though he wanted to stay back and help protect these children, his promise to his parents haunted him with a responsibility so heavy. Not sparing a second to contemplate, he held tightly unto Malkin's legs and ran away, into the forest, rather than the crowded mountainside.

Wiping away the tears that flowed freely, at the expense of his parents, who had paid the ultimate sacrifice for their children to keep on pushing forward.