The rain had picked up again. Not nearly as intensely as it had during the storm; there was no need for pots to be taken from the kitchen. It was steady though, and only so loud as to drown out the singing of the crickets and toads. The dull murmur of thunder rumbled in the distance, my father’s snores seeming to echo their low churn in the not-so-distant reaches of the cottage. 

Rain never failed to put me to sleep before. As a young emperor, I had commanded my advisors to fetch me a master sygalist, simply so he could inscribe a spell into the fabric of my pillow. When I laid my head against it, it would rumble with those same dulcet tones that so often accompanied dark clouds, and the pitter-patter of rain would be projected about the room, sending me into the deep recesses of slumber before you could say “All hail Cronos.”

Yet, there I lay, eyes open, fully immune to the spell of the storm’s song. I couldn’t manage to slow my mind. My parents’ discussion of the emperor’s latest decree earlier that day held a higher volume than the thunder and snoring combined. They had not granted him a single ounce of credit, and I couldn’t help but take their pointed words personally.

I mean, if what they said was true, then their points were valid. It sounded like this emperor did not allow his subjects to use magic at all, which seemed rather oppressive. In Zobrus, any child who was born Imbued with the gift of magic was offered the means to practice their spellcraft. My father--or rather, my other father. My royal father?--had me train extensively to master control of the arcane the moment I showed signs of being Imbued. 

That fire I had conjured in the hearth sprang into my mind. I couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse that I was, again, born an Imbued, but whether it was a gift or a misfortune, it was certainly rare. Only a handful of commoners were born Imbued back in Zobrus. Perhaps my spirit carried that skill with it into this life. 

Still, I could understand the choice. In Zobrus, magic was enhanced through artifacts, but, even without the use of an artifact, an unpracticed Imbued could cause quite the devastation. Forbidding magic use can sometimes serve the interests and safety of the realm! I was surprised my parents did not understand that. 

Then there was the matter my father had brought up, the way he painted this emperor as some bully who conquered the lesser lands around him. Well, obviously! It is the responsibility of an emperor to shelter lesser kingdoms ‘neath the cloak of his power. That’s why they’re lesser!

The common people were clearly incapable of knowing the hardships that emperors face. It was not so long ago that I was the target of such critiques. They simply don’t understand how tough it is to rule! 

Light flooded the cottage in an instant, pouring through the window and structural cracks, before disappearing and throwing the room’s interior back into darkness. If I was to determine if this emperor’s actions were justified or not, I needed to learn of my location. Familiarizing myself with this village’s history would surely glean some much-needed insight.

There must be a book that contained information about the surrounding villages somewhere. I stood up in my crib, my stance punctuated with the delayed roar from the clouds.

Getting out of my crib proved more difficult than I’d care to admit. The height of my prison extended over my head even when I stood, and climbing was out of the question as I could only stay standing by gripping the bars for balance. Through the wooden slits, I could see the silhouette of our bookshelf across the room. Sitting on the second shelf from the top, I saw my prize: a thick tome bound in red leather, a gold compass upon its spine piercing the darkness like the sun. Even between worlds, it seems some iconography remains absolute.

Another wave of light washed through the room, receding in the next moment. The lightning’s illumination was brief, but lasted just long enough to reveal my way out. I reached through the slits to the crib’s exterior and lifted the securing latch. The accompanying thunder arrived sooner this time; either that, or my father was snoring so loudly that he should consult a cleric. To my surprise, the door remained as secure as before. It didn’t help that my eyes required readjusting with each lightning strike, but I did not need to see to escape. I waddled to the opposite side of the crib, logic as my ally, and fumbled my hand through the slit in the blackness. It stood to reason that a second latch would secure the crib on each side. I simply needed to find it, and…

Click.

Success! After slapping the latch from its lock, less gracefully than I would have liked, the side of the crib was free to open. With a push, it fell flat to the ground like the drawbridge of a castle. Who knew opening a crib door would induce such a nostalgic feeling? An aggravated snore from my father made me think the clatter of the door had given me away, but a moment later he returned to his usual strained and sleepful breathing pattern.

No time to waste. I crawled the length of the cottage, past my sleeping parents, and up to the bookshelf. It towered over me like some magician’s spire, and I quickly realized I had no way to reach the book in question. My motor skills were not nearly developed enough to toss something at it, but as luck would have it, the book looked closer to the edge than its companions. Enough force should cause it to teeter and fall to my reach.

I crawled backward, feeling like a bull pawing at the dirt before a charge. The book’s impact would surely be loud enough to wake my parents. Fortunately, unlike most babies, I am resourceful. Lightning struck, the signal for me to begin my charge. The seconds it took me to reach the bookshelf was exactly the window between the thunder’s clap, as if the heavens were applauding my brilliance.

I smacked into the shelf, it wobbled back and forth, sending the red tome plummeting down. Now this I had forgotten to account for. Even while combating my own clumsy motor control, I managed to roll to the side just in time to avoid being crushed. Panting, I climbed atop the open book’s pages like a champion would mount their fallen foe. This is it! A detailed map of a city was illustrated across the pages, allowing my full investigations into my current locale. But life can be a cruel mistress, and the victories she grants can often be snatched away. Maker be damned…

I couldn’t read.