A swell of pride coursed through him for the first time as he acknowledged his father’s esteemed role as a prominent Sageheart.

His father knew more about Fatima than even the Archdeacon and had traversed every continent—including the ever-exclusive Brearis Kingdom. His father's travels brought home a treasure trove of artifacts, books, jewelry, and more. It was the reason why his home was The Castle of Books, a library for travelers and people who seek knowledge. 

He came to the edge of the mountain that overlooked the scattered villages nestled below and proceeded to descend the rocky terrain, his hooves clacking against the large stones with each leap he took. Within moments, he reached a winding dirt path, quickening his pace with anticipation.

But as soon as he entered the town, his excitement dissipated, replaced by the piercing gazes of the Humans who traversed the cobblestone streets. He lowered his twin tail, placed his hands inside his pockets, and slouched his shoulders.

The words “Millers Boy” echoed in passing whispers by Humans and he simply shrugged in response. He was used to being referred to as the “Miller’s Boy” rather than Asher J. Miller.

It was an improvement from the days when they called him a Glork, the slurs now mercifully silenced. He couldn't blame them though. He wasn't Human but a Satpor– a race created from Ainreth, dark magic.

They were beings with demonic semblance, their inky skin exuding an aura of darkness. Their elongated arms, slender fingers with razor-sharp nails, and the presence of small animal ears and horns painted a fearsome image. The size of their horns varied with age, and though Asher’s were relatively small, they still cast a shadow that seemed to embody the essence of malevolence.

Although he never met another Satpor or came across The Dark Shadows, he had heard that they had a deep-seated hatred of Humans and carried malicious intent to anyone who dared cross them. 

As he made his way through the town square, he noticed some of his classmates gathering around the water fountain, dedicated to the Head Elder. They played in the sparkling water, their laughter and animated conversations filled the air. For a brief second, a longing washed over him. 

“I wonder…how that feels. To have friends like that?” He pondered. “One day…I’ll have friends like that.”

Asher tore his gaze from the joyous scene. He traversed up the hill, his steps carrying him toward the towering Castle of Books that seemed to command attention from any vantage point. It stood majestically, surrounded by large oak trees, and carried a garden of its own with blossoming Daffodils, Roses, and Forget-Me-Nots. It was the second tallest building in the Isles, the first being the Church that stood with pointed towers and stained glass.

He didnt care for the Church. They always sent the Archdeacon to the Castle, making sure every month he was on the path of righteousness. He answered questions regarding his mental health, how he felt, and if any magic had appeared. And each time, his mother informed the Archdeacon that magic doesn't come to Satpors like Thaulkons, it is gifted as a coming-of-age present from Ainreth.