He was Braxton Durant, a boy born to nothing.

 

Of six sons and three daughters, he became the youngest in a family of spud farmers surviving on the outskirts of Zenith. Zenith city, despite its name meaning “the peak,” was anything but a pinnacle. Since it sat between the west and north borders, it was the victim of political turmoil and as a result, had become a wretched capital of crime within the Westland republic. Bandits and thieves ran amuck day and night, and murder rates were higher than the cumulative numbers of all other Westland cities combined. No one was safe, but no one had the money or gaul to travel out. People went about their lives one day at a time, and when they saw a corpse on the side of the road, they didn’t. To them, it was no different than seeing a dead animal or a fungus growing in their house. It was to be left alone. Someone or something else would take it away, eventually.

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Even though the family of eleven lived in such a lawless, depraved area, they were decently content. Since they were more impoverished than most others, bandits saw no merit in ever coming near their meager farm, except to steal a couple of potatoes here and there. 

The fruitless work was harsh during the day, but at night the brothers and sisters would gather around a fire and sing about their dreams.

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“I wanna explore the world!” one said.

“Same here!” another shouted.

“Then let us pray to Tyche, the goddess of fortune!” they all chanted in unison.

They sang and danced around those crackling flames almost every night while their parents slept. It was the single joy ever afforded to those children, and the only pleasure that filled the void in their stomachs where food would not.

“When are we going on this adventure?” Johanne, the middle daughter asked, twiddling her thumbs.

“Why, when Brax is all grown up,” Aziel, eldest son said. “He is the youngest after all.”

 

Aziel the good-looking dreamer, was the forefront of the childrens’ aspirations and had the plan to chase a dream. He vowed that they would save up enough gold and silver to retire their parents and embark on an incredible adventure when Brax turned eighteen. Until that day, they would train tirelessly to learn magic arts and become strong enough to conquer anything in their way. Aziel had been carefully assessing his siblings all their lives and decided what roles they’d play in their party. With so many of them, they’d need at least two healers, maybe even three. He, of course, would be the powerhouse at the forefront taking all the shots. He didn’t want any harm to come to his beloved siblings, after all. The others would have to specialize in powerful offensive, support, and utility spells. And while he wasn’t sure what role Brax, the youngest, would fall into quite yet, he knew he’d eventually find a way to be useful. He wanted to create an exploration team that was unstoppable and uncover the greatest treasures all around the world.

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Brax always admired Aziel. Not only because he was strong-willed, but because he could still have child-like dreams as an adult. Aziel was twenty-five, an age most other peasants and slaves  had become dull by, and yet he still talked of grandiose adventures and endless treasure. He didn’t just talk either, because he always had a plan. He was a strategist who had saved the farm countless times from tax collectors and bandits, and always found a way to feed everyone, even if it wasn't much. He was someone born to lead since the day they were born. A man who could talk the talk, lead by example, and inspire those around him in such a desolate circumstance. If Aziel were born into the right family, he would've been a great king.

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“So where are we going?” Jack, one of the brothers asked.

“To the Moonless Terra of course!” Aziel said. The rest gasped in shock, giggling at the craziness of the thought. “I know, it’ll be dangerous, but together we will grow strong enough to explore it and find all the treasure within!”

“Here, here!” they all chanted. They put their faith in Aziel, for he was a man who could accomplish anything. Perhaps he was a bit naive, but his cunning would be more than enough to adapt to anything.

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The moon was running fast across the sky, racing towards the next day, so the siblings dumped mud on the fire and started walking to the cramped room which they all shared. Before Brax could join them, Aziel tapped his shoulder.

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“Hey, I have something to show you.”

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Aziel led Brax in the dark of night towards the big dead tree that sat at the center of their farm. Aziel pointed to a minuscule, unassuming hole in the tree and prompted Brax to look through it. As his eyes peered through the slot, he noticed something reflecting the falling moon’s shine. It was coins. Heaps of them. Bronze, silver, and even gold! So much that it filled the tree's base in its entirety. Young Brax had never seen so much gold at once, and it was something he’d never forget.

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“Wow!” Brax said. “There’s so much here! We don’t have to wait to retire our parents! We could move them into the city set out for the Moonless Terra right now!”

“We probably could!” Aziel laughed. “But we won’t.”

“Why?” Brax asked.

“Because you’re not strong enough yet,” Aziel replied.

“So what. I can learn on the way!” Brax said. “You’ll just have to protect me until then.”

“Ha. You’ll just be a liability. Which is why we're waiting until you're eighteen. That gives you ten years to get strong.”

“If we’re still going to wait, then why are you showing me this?”

“Because it’s hard to accomplish something when your goal isn’t clear. That’s why most people fall in line, and why we can succeed. We have an exact time frame and a goal. Of course, the variable, my dear brother, is you. Show me what you can do in this next decade and heck, maybe we’ll leave when you're sixteen.”

“I’ll make sure to work extra hard!” Brax said, punching his palm.

“Ha! I like it,” Aziel said, gazing at the moonlit galaxy. “Don’t tell anyone else about this, not even our own blood. Keep it our little secret.”

 

Aziel winked at him and smirked mischievously. They then went to join their siblings in slumber and rest up for the next day, not that Brax could sleep. He was much too excited. They didn't have to worry about their parents or the farm anymore; the only thing he had to do was to grow strong. Strong enough to protect what he held dear.

 

After thinking on it for weeks, Brax decided that he would create his own magic spells. Or at least, what a young child might muddle together and call their own. He read plenty of books on magic and Aziel had taught him a lot, but Brax wasn’t a talented protege and it would show with his silly notion of something that was better on paper, but worse in practice. He knew this well, but he still resolved that the magic he'd create would be the ultimate combination of defense and offense; one which would surely be useful to his siblings on their adventure. 

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He called it “Blackjack Rock”, named after a card game his father taught to him.

 

He thought it was a cool name, though in reality he would regret it as he grew older. It really was a boyish name for something that needn’t be named in the first place. The way he imagined it, he would use Earth magic as a defensive shield while he used a deck of spell cards to gamble in a fight. The cards ranged from extraordinarily powerful to pathetically weak and it would take strategy to draw the right one for the circumstance. He always loved his luck-based card games, after all. Of course, there was a similar type of magic that was easy to use and widely known, but was also notoriously impractical. It could take hours to draw the spell you’d need, and if you were in battle, you’d be long dead. The spells were random and the effects were so widely varied in what they did that this type of magic was never used. The only feasible appliance in history was during sieges, and even then there were other types of magic that were more effective. Due to the randomness of this unpredictable sorcery, it was essentially useless, which is why Brax wanted to claim it as his own. To tame the untamable. On the other hand, earth magic was the king of defense, but also quite draining to use. No one in their right mind would use magic that sapped their energy so quickly in tandem with other spells. So why did Brax have such confidence in the most impractical magic and the most taxing? Because, like his last name, he could endure. Mayhaps he wasn’t the most gifted or talented, and he was pretty weak otherwise, but he made up for it with pure tenacity. Plus, the rush of random dumb luck mixed with ice cold strategy always got his blood pumping. With the guidance of old books thrown out in the dumps of Zenith, Aziels teachings, and his own determination, Brax thought he had everything he needed to succeed.

 

Years passed and Brax started growing finely into his skin. He impressed Aziel with the magic only he could use, and Aziel said it would only be three more years before they left on their grand adventure. Brax didn’t want to wait, but he kept training night after night and during each break. Normally, one would have run out of stamina after the most arduous physical labor combined with the most draining magic, but Brax could somehow manage. He was determined.

 

One summer day, when the fish harvest was plentiful, Aziel said they should celebrate Brax’s newfound power with a feast. He sent his siblings into the town square with a chunk of silver he wouldn't say where he got from. He also said he would do the entire work for the day and let everyone else have a break. It was easy for someone as strong as him, after all. He claimed he had a super special magic only he could use and it gave him the strength to do anything.

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Brax and the others laughed through a bustling fishing harbor by a grand river that smelled of, well, fish, and went from stand to stand gazing at cloudy eyes and colorful scales. Aftering perusing for what seemed like an hour, the brothers and sisters bought the hugest catch they could find in all the small town: a blade-toothed silver killer the size of three men that hunted in large rivers and was known widely as the gorefish. A carnivorous fish would surely be incredulously lean, and thus, packed with the best flavor. 

It took all eight of the siblings to haul the fish down the dusty trail back home. Despite its heft, none of them let up, for they didn’t want to tarnish the skin by getting it dirty. As they happily marched on, they talked about all the dishes they would make, like crusty fish pies, crispy fried skin salads, fin stew, broth boiled cutlets, charred skewers, and sides of spuds that were mashed, fried, and broiled. Brax could smell the herb-spiced savory aroma before they even started cooking.

 

When they got back, the fish plopped to the ground into the muddy dirt. They gazed with dread scarred faces at Aziel, who was lying on the ground with his throat crudely slit and a puddle of sun-warmed blood bathing his raggedy leather garments. Even though the blazing ball of fire in the sky was quite hot that day, the body had grown cold. Their brother and hero was gone. Murdered in cold blood without a trace. A pointless slaughter that would alter the course of their lives forever.

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Later that night, when the siblings and parents were mourning, Brax snuck off to check the tree. Every single bit of gold was gone. And though it only dawned on him at that moment, he never thought about where someone so poor could have gotten so much money. It may have been pure speculation, but Brax knew that his brother had gotten involved with the wrong people. There was no way he could find them and take his revenge, but he could at least keep his secret and let Aziel live in everyone else’s minds as a pure-hearted boy who would never do anything wrong. One who dreamt of faraway lands with twinkling pupils and a pulsating heart. That part was still most likely true, but that’s the only legacy that had to be on the surface. The idea of a lovely dreamer who bit off more than he could swallow would be Brax’s secret.

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After they buried Aziel, Braxton tried to keep his dreams alive and strived to go to the Moonless Terra with his brothers and sisters, but slowly, one by one, they each fell into line. Without a rallying point and a plan, they did exactly what Aziel said would happen, and they gave up. Angered at his family for abandoning their dreams so easily, he left without saying a word. He became a traveling merchant so he could see the land, and would eventually land a beautiful wife named Sarag. He settled down outside of Wunderdum, the capital city of Westland, with hopes of one day making it into its inner walls with his young daughter. Now, having endured over a decade of mundane persistence, he was in his late thirties and a victim of his brother’s worst fears: a man who gave up on his dreams and fell into line.

 

Still, to the very day, Brax could hear Aziels words ringing in his mind. Something he often ignored, but could never forget. His soul was there forever more, haunting him and pushing his body forward, while Brax tried, in vain, to hold it back.