I Bet!

"Yes! Haha!"

The triumphant holler rose above the low buzz of conversation and smoke weaving through the air in the dimly lit room but barely drawing any attention to the table in the far corner. Once again, the Lunar symbols carved into the sides of the dice peered up from the tabletop where they'd been thrown, the moons eaten away until nothing but crescent slivers remained. This was the fifth time he'd rolled the double crescents today, nearly tripling the amount he'd started with when he walked through the doors to the dealer's house. The Crimson Leaf was all but dead during the day, but the real high-stakes gamblers and exciting games didn't come until well after the sun had plummeted beneath the edge of the city.

So, Frye was perfectly comfortable just as he was, taking advantage of the underwhelmed farmers and loose-pursed merchants during the lighter hours. Times like these helped him loosen up and relax, forgetting about everyone who was after him and all of the debts he had yet to pay off. Besides that, Frye just enjoyed winning, even moreso because of how rarely it happened. His tendency for bad throws did not dissuade him, however, because today, he was feeling it. Luck was pouring in his favor and he wanted to drink in as much as he could before the spout ran dry.

Letting out a haughty laugh, he nudged the man sitting next to him with his elbow as he reached out to collect all of the money he'd won, the small green and burgundy squares clacking together as they scraped across the tabletop to join the small pile already in front of him. "Looks like the Fates are spoiling me today," he said with a dry smirk that he directed at the five others sitting around the table. "And truly, I feel just awful for putting such large holes in all of your wallets. Surely I can make it up to you by using the money that would be going to feed all of your families, to buy you gentlemen a round of drinks. It's only fair, since I'm the only one here who can afford ale now."

"Quiet your tongue, Corraidian," the burly man sitting across from him grumbled humorlessly. "The game's not over and everyone here knows that the money in your pockets is an impermanent and ethereal thing." The man's bearded face split open wide with a grin full of bad teeth and Frye flicked his tail in agitation under the table, the tuft of hair on the end sweeping dust particles and crumbs around the legs of his stool. "I say put your money where your mouth is and we'll see how wealthy you stay for another round."

Okay, sure. Frye wasn't known for winning and had a reputation for biting off more than he could chew. But the sport of gambling - particularly the game Nights - had a way of stabbing every man in the back every once in a while. Still... he had a nice pile in front of him, enough to make a considerable dent in what he owed the threshers. But if he could double it, he'd be free and clear of all his debts, including interest and fees, and all in just one afternoon! The prospect was just too tempting to pass up, especially when his toes were still tingling like Lady Luck was willing to dance for another song or two.

Rubbing at the sculpted, dark colored facial hair surrounding his lips, he smirked again and said. "Very well, I'll take you guys on for another roll," and he eased the coins in front of himself into the middle of the table, his hands caging in the bulk of it until there was not a piece left sitting in front of him. "All in. If you think you can afford to play with me, that is." A few eyes widened around the table but Frye wasn't worried; their greed would be too heavy in the face of all that potential money to be won. Frye's pile alone could have each man living comfortably for 3-4 months! And sure enough, each man gathered together the amount he set, clearing the table edges and filling the middle pot with a mountain of green and red squares.

Every set of eyes glistened hungrily as they looked over the dual-colored pile, the burly man across from Frye picking up his cups and scooping up the dice. The rattling of the shaking cubes was the only sound in their small corner, everything else drowned out by it and not even a breath moving as they emptied out and fell to the tabletop. Clattering on the wood and bouncing playfully together, the dice slowed and began tipping into their final setting: the dreaded white and black circles of the Full Moon and the New Moon. It would be death and the loss of everything. As soon as he saw it coming, Frye kept his face frozen and subtly directed a small, spontaneous breeze over the tabletop, the lantern light flickering for two seconds before steadying again. When he opened his eyes again, two Lunar crescents stared up at him from the tabletop with an unwavering gaze.

A broad smile spread on his lips as shouts and groans of defeat erupted from around him, the world lifting off of his shoulders as he took in the pile of money once more. His money. ALL his. "Well, gentlemen," Frye said with a long, drawn out and lazy sigh, reaching forward with wide open arms to hug the pile closer to himself. "That's enough for me, I think. Great game though. We should definitely do this again sometime--"

A heavy hand was slapped down on his arm, stopping him from moving. Looking up, he came face to face with the angry glare and bad-teeth grimace of the hulk who'd taunted him before. "Thieving cork!" the man spat, and Frye flinched just the tiniest bit at the racial slur but remained otherwise unfazed. "You're not going anywhere!"

"I get the feeling you're upset about something, Vernon," Frye said, with a sarcastically thoughtful tone. "Though I can't imagine why, since it's clearly a game of chance and I won everything fair and square. Try and use your big-boy words and explain why you won't let me leave with my money."

"You cheated!"

"Prove it," Frye shot back, tugging on the pile but not getting very far with the hand still gripping his arm.

"You should at least give us the chance to win some of it back," another man said angrily, standing up from the table. "That was all the money I had for a month and the harvest is over! How am I going to feed my family?"

"This is my problem, why?" Frye asked, quirking a dark eyebrow at the guy. "Whatever problems all of you have now, you really should have thought about before you decided to risk everything. Is this the first time you guys have gambled?"

The mountainous man holding his arm slowly stood in his seat, towering over Frye and casting a large shadow on him. "I will cut off my own balls before I let a blighted cork walk away with my money."

Frye shot a quick glance at the men standing around the table - the human men - who all seemed ready and willing to hurt him now. Alright, plan B. "Well..." he started slowly, looking back up at his captor. "Then this sucks for you in two ways."

All of a sudden, the front door to the tavern swung open and banged against the wall, casting a white daylight into the large room. A forceful gust of wind came rushing through the opening all the way to the table in the back corner, swooping low and rushing up to slam into the burly man standing over the table. There was just enough force behind it to unbalance the larger man, who tipped and twisted on his feet before falling to the ground. Untouched by the wind, Frye gathered up as much of the pile as he could, stuffing the pockets of his short, dark leather jacket, as the light of the lantern swung lazily back and forth over the table. From the other side of the table, he could hear the bellows and rumbling growls of Vernon, the man he'd knocked over, and just as an arm appeared over the table edge, followed by heavy set features, another two gusts of wind blasted into the corner of the room. The first upended the table, causing more crashes and loud, raging shouts. The second, blew out the light of the lantern, casting the entire back end of the room in thick, stuffy darkness.

Before anyone could say anything else, Frye was sailing through the room and out the lighted entrance, the door blowing shut behind him. Outside, he squinted in the sunlight, trying to gather his bearings before quickly picking a direction and taking off down a side street. He was near the docks, so his bare feet occasionally splashed in puddles, weaving through the crowd of dock workers busy loading and unloading ships of their wares. There wasn't exactly a clear plan in his head at the moment - the flow of creative ideas kind of ended for him at "blow the lights out and run away" - but all he knew was that he had to get as much distance between himself and the Crimson Leaf as possible.

A small cottage was nestled in the hills, just outside of the town where the Crimson Leaf had been constructed. The cottage was simple with whitewashed sides and a tin-plated roof. Yet an intricate silver design stood above the small door. It was three concentric circles, and inside of those circles shone a star designed of diamonds, glittering with ethereal light. To astronomers, wizards, and other learned folk it could only signify one thing; this was the home of a Guiding Star. Furthermore, this was not the home of just any Guiding Star. This was the home of one in whose veins ran the hallowed blood of the North Star, Polaris.

In this world, Stars were not just balls of gas and energy suspended in the atmosphere. They were homing beacons in a confusing and often dangerous world. If one wished upon a star, chances are those wishes would come true, especially if they were learned in astrological lore. Stars were not just content to guide from the heavens, however. Every hundred years or so, a few stars would fall to the Earth and become Star Children. Star Children were led by those known as Guiding Stars. Each Guiding Star had a purpose, a chance to restore balance to a world plagued with uncertainty, and each Star Child had the chance to become a Guiding Star.

Guiding Stars were known to be immensely powerful in the ways of Light magic, many were talented healers, some had an array of psychic abilities, and nearly all Guiding Stars could grant wishes if they were so willing. But Guiding Stars generally shied away from the general populace, content to assist the Star Children as they learned and began to grow, and then returning to their homes in the Sky with the Northern Lights.

Guiding Stars, however, had good reason to distrust the general populace. Though Guiding Stars were revered as Sages and well respected, their children were not treated as well. Star Children were often the target of kidnapping attempts, because of their alleged abilities to grant wishes, even though most Star Children were incapable of granting wishes on a whim. Star Children, with their delicate features, glowing auras, and distinct star signs upon their foreheads were also considered something of a rarity. Often treated as little more than slaves in less refined places, they could fetch a high price at the market. Fortunately, this type of behavior was rare as Guiding Stars were forces to be reckoned with, especially if their children were in danger. Even an ArchSage would think twice about fighting a Guiding Star alone. For those unfortunate children whose Guiding Star had been killed or gone missing, however, life could often be miserable...

In any case, the Guiding Star of this particular cottage was a woman named Andromeda. For many years she had lived on Earth, awaiting the arrival of her child. She had come to be known as a master of healing, and people would come from far and wide to be cured of their ills. For all this, she was also rumored to be immensely powerful and those who crossed her were never heard from again. In time, her child had been born to her, a boy she lovingly named Borealis. Borealis grew to be a fair child. His hair glistened as if spun gold, his eyes a cerulean color that could shimmer like the stars themselves. On his forehead the sign of the North Star shone with a radiant light, for when his days on the planet were over, he would return as the North Star itself, ruler of all stars. It was at this time that Andromeda began to guard him jealously. He was a Prince of the Star People after all, and there were many who would pay a great deal to take him from her. She constructed a barrier of starlight, and only her most trusted friends were allowed access to her home. For eight long years she protected the child, teaching him everything she could of star lore...But their happiness was not to last...

On that day, the forces of the dreaded Warlord and Warlock Zaurack assailed Andromeda's home. Zaurack himself was of the Star People, but he was a Fallen Star, a Black Star if you will, and it was his goal to rule the world. He had heard of a prophecy that Borealis' mission as a Guiding Star would be to defeat the evil Warlord. Zaurack, of course, could not allow that to happen. His fearsome pyromancers set fire to the home before Andromeda knew that something was amiss and a loud explosion rocked the walls...

"Momma!" sobbed Borealis as he was thrown from his bed and dashed against the wall with the force of the blast.

Andromeda was there in an instant, gathering her child into her arms and winding gauze around his bleeding forehead.

"It will be alright," she said in a comforting voice, though it was laced with tension, "Momma won't let any of the bad men get to you."

"W-why are they here?" whispered Borealis with wide eyes.

"Don't worry about that," said his mother firmly, "Everything will be fine."

A globe of fire suddenly appeared beside them, but this time Andromeda was ready. She held out a hand, whispering words of an unknown language, and the flames were extinguished. But more globes continued to appear. Soon, the house would be a living inferno...Andromeda's set her lips in a thin line, knowing what she must do. Carrying her son and continuing to extinguish globes, Andromeda ran. She could face some of the greatest magicians in the world, but against an entire contingent of Zaurack's, she knew she would be no match. When she reached the back door, about ten of the pyromancers were beginning to gather. They hadn't expected Andromeda to react so quickly, however, and were still in disarray. Andromeda whispered a silent spell and a gush of water burst into the group, sending them down the side of the hill. Her path clear for the moment, Andromeda made it to the gate. She gently set her son down, whispering comforting words into his ears.

"I love you," she murmured, kissing him lightly, "Now, you must listen to Momma. Run, run as fast as you can to the town. If anyone stops you, keep running. Go to your Uncle Cetus' home. He will protect you."

"But what about you?" whimpered Borealis, eyes quivering.

"Don't worry," his mother repeated, "You just listen to me."

"Momma...I..." Borealis looked quite lost and confused, wrenching his mother's already aching heart.

"I'm sorry..." whispered Andromeda, eyes glistening with tears, "I must go."

She gave Borealis a quick hug, a little push, and was gone. She returned to the front of her home, where a finely crafted illusion was distracting the forces of Zion.

"Are you looking for me? Here I am!"

Borealis, as he ran towards the town, saw nothing but a sphere of pure elemental energy expand outwards from where his home had once stood. Though he wished to go back with all his heart, he knew he could not. He dared to hope that somehow his mother had survived the onslaught, never dreaming that she herself had produced the sphere with her own life force, taking a considerable portion of the Warlord's forces with her. It would only break his young spirit to learn the truth...

After what seemed like days but was only a few hours, he reached the city, a forlorn child. People barely even seemed to notice him, though this was most likely a good thing as he was Star Child without a guardian. He also didn't realize that his mother had laid a light aura of illusion around him, causing him to appear like nearly any other child, the light on his forehead barely noticeable. He weaved through the streets, hope surging in his young heart once more. He would find his uncle! Cetus was extremely powerful and wise. He would know exactly what to do. Borealis' heart raced, however, as he saw smoke billowing from the place where his uncle's home should have been. Fear lent wings to his feet, but he stopped short as he saw the charred remains of the once famous library and laboratory. Town officials kept the area clear of would be looters while fire brigades fought the still raging inferno.

"No! No! Uncle Cetus!" he screamed, running towards the ruins.

"Woah! Woah there, kid! Take it easy!" said a gentle voice as a strong arm wrapped itself around the child.

Borealis looked up into the face of a rather burly gentleman with a softness in his eyes that took your fear away.

"My Uncle's in there! We gotta save him!" he cried.

"Your Uncle? Kid...I think you must've hit your head a little hard. This man here was one of those Star people and, no offense, you're just a little runt without those symbols the kids always have. Ah...I know. You must be one of those little urchins who would go to Cyrus for advice and stuff. Always did like havin kids around, that Cyrus," sighed the gentleman, "But...he's done and gone now, and it's a sad thing. Funny how a simple blaze could do that to a man with so much of the spark inside of him..."

"No...No! You're lying! You're lying!" sobbed the child, unable to take anymore.

Shaking himself from the well-intentioned man's grasp, Borealis began to run again...He didn't know where he would go now...He didn't know what to do...