I was closest to my sister Jessica, my twin in a family of ten. Before the age of twelve we were inseparable, tutored together, educated in the customs of nobility and the art of spellcraft. I think our closeness was due to my own weakness. I wasn’t the youngest sibling, but I had the least potential for magic. As the noble son of a House Eddleston, I fell far behind expectations. Compared to my siblings, who were geniuses, and Jessica, the prodigy, I was essentially forgotten.

I thought instead of struggling to catch up to her, I would dedicate myself to training with a shield. Traditionally the spellcasting classes were protected by physical, skill-based classes like warriors and knights. The role of the ‘tank’ was to draw attention and absorb injuries while the spellcasters defeated opponents from safety. It was an honorable role, well-suited to a noble who had already sworn oaths of chivalry and fealty to the king. My talents for fighting weren’t bad, but I fell further behind the family.

I remember training in the courtyard of Drakenhelm Keep, our summer home in the mountains that shielded the capital of the realm; the harbor city of Vultheras. A breathless messenger galloped through the gate on a sable horse, scroll clutched preciously in his hand. It was a message for my father, Duke Eddleston. Jessica had succeeded in an awakening ritual and acquired the Eyes of the Sorcerer. At 18, she had survived an infamous spell which had killed hundreds of elder wizards before her. It cemented her as a supreme sorcerer, the foremost talent in a thousand years.

Jessica didn’t return to the keep that summer. I wintered with the house guards and joined them on drills the following spring. I redoubled my efforts to train my body and earned the right to call myself a squire. It was around then I heard the first rumor of the Zenith War. The god of our realm, Mathematzen, God of Brass, Cogs, and Machines was attacked by the god Achlesial. Our country of Bastilhas owed its existence to Mathematzen, so King Kalen of Great House Darigon assembled a war council. Next was the summons for all able-bodied squires for a promotion to the prestige class of knight.

At the Clockwork Palace, in the heart of Vultheras, I stood among many other squire prospects along a red carpet. We wore suits of plate mail and our faces were hidden behind full helms. King Kalen paced down the carpet in red adamantine plate, a white cloak of bear fur wrapped over his shoulders. He was an old gentleman, handsome face withered by age, but his brown eyes gleamed sharply. Jessica, foremost sorceress in the realm, followed beside him. She gauged the ability ceiling of each would-be-knight, so the king would choose only the strongest.

The promotion limit was the reason our entire country wasn’t composed of knights, otherwise superior to squires in every way. Since the king could only promote a number based on his own ability level, it was important to select those with the greatest potential. Even though my face was hidden, Jessica recognized me, and she appeared to turn red. Her blue eyes glimmered brightly and she stormed out from the king’s entourage.

Before anyone could so much as turn their heads, she shouted. “Do you think this is a game?!” and swung her mana-charged hand. “Ice Prison, Level 1!”

I was blown back, against a pillar of the royal colonnade, and fixed to its side by a wrap of ice thirty feet across. Jessica glared at me. The king’s aides trembled, and his guards rushed to her side. All it took was a level 1 spell to about freeze me through; if she wanted to unmake the kingdom then and there, she had more than enough power to do it.

“Go home,” she said. “The weak don’t belong here.”

The confusion subsided when the king’s entourage realized she hadn’t harmed anyone important. They were grateful for that, because they could hardly punish someone as powerful as my sister anyway. I was escorted from the palace and I returned to Drakenhelm humiliated. There were new orders by the time my carriage passed through the gates; by command of my father I was to remain under house arrest in the keep. His reasoning was I had embarrassed the house, but I think Jessica told him to do it. She was practically head of the household and only 20 years old.

Summer came and went. By winter, it was held among the public that the war with Achlesial’s followers would begin as soon as the snow melted from the mountain passes. I stayed behind the black-stone walls of Drakenhelm, trained with the guards, and spent my days among good servants who did well to keep me comfortable. But, all the while, I wondered why Jessica had rejected my dream. If I couldn’t be her shield, then what was I as a noble of House Eddleston? How could I call myself a man?

It was the closing week of winter, the evening of our last snow, when a stranger appeared at the front gate. It was odd enough for someone to visit before the snow had cleared, but this man of white hair, in a white robe, riding on a white stallion, carried a writ from the king. His name was Ghost and he was permitted to select a ritual supplicant from among the king’s subjects.

At night I met him in the keep’s den, by the light of the fireplace and the candles lit across its mantle. From his seat on a thick chair of boar skin, Ghost told me he had interviewed the guards, servants, and the watch commander himself, but found no one suitable for the next ritual. He looked at me with cloudy eyes.

“How is your sister doing?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her since her ascension.”

“I don’t know, sir. I think she hates me.”

“I heard she’s the first sorceress now,” he said.

“I guess that’s true, sir.”

The conversation died away and Ghost appeared to look at the fire. I stood there, shuffled awkwardly in my linens, and wondered if there was anything left to discuss.

“Do you know why she survived the ritual that killed so many before her?” he asked, but I couldn’t possibly answer. I shook my head.

“It wasn’t a matter of magical talent. She just… had the factor necessary.”

“What factor, my lord?”

Ghost smiled slightly; it was a long smile that tapered at the end. “A wish, bold enough to entice the Eyes. Your sister Jessica made her wish and the Eyes heard her. She was considered a noble soul. A heroic soul.”

My eyes rounded and I swallowed anxiously. “Do you know what her wish was?”

I knew it was rude of me to ask, but I couldn’t help myself. Even if I would be punished for questioning the ritualist trusted by king Kalen, I wanted to know.

“To protect the weakest person in the world.”

My legs trembled. My chest inflated and my hands squeezed shut. For the first time I felt real anger toward her. I had accepted so much of my misfortune, my lack of talent, neglect from my family, punishment, and imprisonment by my father. I looked on the brighter side and always kept the honor of House Eddleston in mind, the honor of the king, and Jessica, who I admired.

“I—I also—” I could hardly speak, but it wasn’t out of weakness. If I wasn’t careful, I might have shouted. “I also wanted to protect things, so why would she—?”

“Excuse me?” Ghost asked and leaned toward me, over the arm of his chair. “You wanted to what?”

“I was born weak, sir,” I said, eyes itchy and red. “From a family of magical heritage, out of a lineage of legends, I was born so weak I couldn’t attain a spellcaster class of my own. I thought if I could become a knight, I could at least stand beside her. To be helpful to the person I admired the most!”

I shouted. I raised my voice to someone who may as well have been the king himself. If it upset him, my life was forfeit. I had told myself that my effort wasn’t childish, that I didn’t treat my life like a toy, or war like a game. I trained so hard, acquitted myself on the practice grounds, just for one iota of power. Just to be proud for myself. I couldn’t help but shout again.

“And she wanted to protect the weak? I wanted to protect her too!”

Ghost stood from the chair and faced me. He reached into his pocket and pulled a single blue-colored eye. It glimmered brightly, like a sapphire in the sun. There was another long smile on his face.

“Do you want to see?” he asked, teased me. He knew the answer already.

“Do you want to know if you have a worthy quest?”