A New Life at the Bottom

Vito opened his eyes and saw a boundless world of swirling colors. He flew through it, feeling warm and protected. “Is this Heaven? I could get used to this.” He tried to make light of his situation, but he still felt a sense of longing for his family. They were sad to see him fall, and he would do anything to ease their pain.

Vito sensed a presence near him. “Such a poor soul…” A woman’s voice echoed around him. Soft and gentle, he felt at peace. “Vito. A name that means “life” in your tongue. Your life came to an end far too soon. It is not your time to join your ancestors in the world of light and life.”

A woman in a flowing white gown and long white hair appeared beside him. Her long silver hair trailed behind her, a true divine vision. A kind smile formed across her lips. She took Vito’s hand and guided him along. “Come, O kind and brave child. A new life awaits. It may not be easy, but you will find those who will reach out their hands. They will help you as you help them. You will find a new family here, and rise far above those who would see you condemned,” she promised. “You must build anew and revive the land. Your heart’s truest wish will be granted then.”

Vito’s numerous questions were silenced as he and the mysterious woman flew above a new world. The night sky was clear, and a brilliant pale moon hung overhead. A medieval city lay below them, with a large castle standing at its center.

They flew faster toward a grandiose mansion a few blocks from the castle. “All will be well, Vito DeCapio.” They stopped above the manor, and her expression changed. She seemed tired and annoyed. “Though I wish you had been given a different welcome to Rhavina. The natural order can sometimes frustrate even me.”

Vito’s consciousness faded before he could ask the goddess what she meant. Muffled voices surrounded him. He struggled to open his eyes and was nearly blinded by the light hanging above him.

“My lord, it’s a boy!” A man dressed in a white uniform announced. Vito’s eyes adjusted to the light. He tried to move his limbs and quickly discovered that they were far shorter than he remembered.

“Ahh!” Vito tried to speak, and only a baby’s cry came out. I’m a baby? I really was reborn in another world, he thought. He turned his tiny hands around and recognized the knife-shaped birthmark on the back of his right hand. I still have this. Born with a knife in my hand like before. It seems like I’ll need it again. The doctor wrapped him in a warm blanket and handed him over to his new father.

“Finally, a boy to stand as my heir,” the lord said in relief. Vito immediately had concerns about his new family.

“Congratulations, Lord Casterwell,” the doctor said, patting him on the shoulder.

“What should we name him, darling?” His new mother looked disheveled, sitting on a grand bed. Vito thought she looked warm and kind.

“Cyneric sounds like a strong name. It’s Duke Friedrickson’s name. That will most certainly get his attention,” the lord suggested. Vito narrowed his eyes in disgust.

“I like that name,” his mother replied. Whether it was true or not, Vito couldn’t say. She sounded like a kind woman, though he had his concerns.

Vito heard the doors swing open. He looked over and saw three men dressed in fine dark robes. The one in the center held a crystal orb in his hands. “Lord Casterwell, the Mages' Association has been looking forward to this day,” the man announced. “Given your prodigious skill and stats, your son is sure to become a shining star in no time.”

“Yes. Our Cyneric will become a legend,” his father agreed.

The robed men approached them, and his father held him out so his hand would touch the crystal ball. “A knife birthmark? He must be a born warrior,” the nobleman proudly remarked.

“Hmm…” the mage looked into the crystal ball as it came alight with magic. “Oh! He has great physical and magical potential!”

The lord seemed pleased with the results. “And? What of his skill? Is he a blade master, such as myself? Perhaps a mystic weaver, like my Syrene. Maybe even the ever-rare sword saint skill. Surely the goddess Ivalis herself smiles upon him.”

The mage continued to peer into his crystal ball. His expression changed from surprised to grim. Even his comrades appeared dissatisfied as a warm, white aura wrapped around Vito. “My lord, we can only see the crest of Ehaldir, the god of the forge. He will be a craftsman.”

“What?!” the lord was outraged. “Impossible! A craftsman? That commoner skill?!” He seemed anxious.

Despite his objections, the mages did not correct their assessment. “I’m sorry, my lord. Cyneric is born to create.”

Vito had no idea what they were talking about. So people are born with 'skills' that decide their future? Crafting sounds interesting. Does he not know the value of someone who can work with their hands? Vito wondered. And! My uncle Enzo works in a garage. He can repair cars and work metal into figures and jewelry when he’s not serving as one of the family’s enforcers. He resented the fact that he couldn’t verbally defend one of his favorite uncles.

“Get rid of him,” Lord Casterwell ordered. “I will not have an outcast in my bloodline, and let no one in Kyrenia, or the whole of Avreora, know of this,” he commanded. “The goddess has forsaken him, and so will I.”

Vito was alarmed. What? What sort of father are you? Hey! He looked from his father to his mother. She made no move to stop what was happening. An armed guard took Vito from Lord Casterwell and left the room. There was a clear urgency in his actions.

A young girl halted the guard, a bag of coins in her hands. “Please take him somewhere safe. Please!” she quietly urged him.

The guard took the pouch from her. “I know of a man who cares for orphans in the slums. He brings them to good homes and offers them proper education. I’ll use this to ensure his place there, Lady Kaelyn,” he swore.

“Thank you,” Kaelyn sadly whispered. “I shall pray to the goddess for his safety every day until I can find him again.”

The guard quickly departed the mansion and rode on horseback to a place he would never otherwise visit: the slums.