My fingers fluttered through the air. The golden wave of light gave off a brilliant warmth to the air around me. I lowered my hands and pressed my palms against the feeble man's back. A loud pop and crack filled the silence as I sprinkled the glistening light on his back. The scars that had been brought with life; the wrinkles that were tyrants of age; the broken flesh in his body had all begun to renew. Healing the imperfections of his skin, I removed the pain from his body. The silver hair he had had turned dark as it was given new life, a life of color that was familiar only to his memory.

 I withdrew my touch from his skin. Pushing my pale, yellow hair from my sight, I gazed upon my fine work: I reversed the clock on this eighty year-old appearance and brought him a, albeit temporary, burst of a life a thirty year-old would posses.

 He stood, instead of the awkward, hunched shamble he once had, he waltzed a joyous stride on the hot marble, that was the ground.

 Breaking from my slouched position, my back ached as I raised to see his carefree face. He spun around and stepped to me. I reached my hand forth, his fingers glided over mine, they opened and allowed five silver coins to fall from his grasp. A depression eased into my mind as a dark thought crawled through my skull.

 This is all I get? I give you the gift of life and you repay me with silver?

 I pushed this sour thought deep into the kindness of my heart. A smile crossed my lips as I bowed my head and thanked the, now, hundred-and-thirty-four year-old man.

 Every year it would repeat: he'd show up, I'd heal him and reverse our ages, he'd pay me in silver and come back in another year. If he didn't get his regular dose, he'd quickly approach his true age. His death would be swift if I ever refused. Little did he know that every time he cheated death, it came that much quicker to him.

 "I pity him, I really do. Sooner or later, he will have to face his fear of mortality." The kindness of my voice had fled at the words of wrath.

 I shrugged. Arching my tired back, I arose from the wooden stool that was my seat. I placed the coins in my nearly empty coin purse of which I securely fastened to my waist. It's long strap had been worn and nearly broken, I feared one day it would fall from my shoulder without my notice.

 I stood and stared into the streets that surrounded me: even though they were filled, the city felt empty. I was able to single out the people from the space. Each and every man, woman, and child all donned expensive attire, showcasing their wealth on their shoulders; the first class was truly a circus of bright colors, fake smiles, and strangers that hid their humanity behind layers of makeup and musk. An oddity that people of my class would kill for.

 My first step onto the hard, smooth floor reminded me of my place in life; my shoeless, dirty, bruised feet burned as they touched the hot stone of the street. I exhaled my pain and began my long trek back home. It was merely mid-day and yet I had to already walk back, the longer I stayed the more dangerous my journey became.

 I stepped into the shadows of magnificent buildings, composed of quartz and beautiful ivory materials. Laced with shimmering gold that created complex designs on their walls; it was the fashion of the rich; to show off their riches to the public.

 The city of Arinfel was one of colossal magnitude, complete with its set of districts that determined and separated social class.

 Starting from the upper class, moving to lower:

 The Capital: decorated like a wealthy man's chess board; ivory and clean, pure and elegant, the slightest imperfection would ruin the board, the slightest disturbance was not tolerated. A large castle was the center of the kingdom. Built in a spiral formation, the leviathan was built upon ivory pedestals that raised the citadel above the rest of the kingdom. This created a magnificent wall of marble that detached the royalty from the rest of the world. Looking at it now, I am nearly blinded by its beauty; the top of the tower was a dome of gold, etched in that gold told the history of Arinfel, or so the rumors say.

 Next came the Outer Ring. Empty space was the majority of this land. Parks; large, open, flat areas of grass, the only disturbance of these fields were the long, narrow concrete paths that flowed through them. An occasional tree would break the flat land, other than that, houses sprinkled the fields. Large mansions in comparison with other homes, from the shacks of the lower class to the complexes of the high rank, true monumental homes. This was the lower-higher class, there was no middle, there was only the ill-fate of where you lived in the high class: near or further from the poor. Despite the land being that of the largest of the districts, it had the fewest population. I say this was just a way for the rich to distance themselves from the lowest class.

 The base of the hierarchy; the lowest class; the City of Poverty; the Rim. A dark and bleak land filled with the scum and backwash of the city. Wooden, creaking, and frail houses made up the Rim. Crime ridden and poverty stricken, it was where the criminals of the country would hide; no guard would dare enter the Rim willingly. Not only was the Rim's denizens lower in class, they were literally lower than the higher class: the odd formation of the land made that the lower class was a literal base of the imperfect pyramid, the lower-high was separated by a cliff, the higher was separated by a wall, and the castle was separated by elevation and walls.

 A long walk was ahead of me for the Rim is where my home was.