Ding ding ding. Another impatient tapping on the silver bell at the counter inside the small wooden bakery.

       “Just a moment!” Lynn called out, her tone sweet and friendly, obscuring the frustration and exhaustion underneath. Young Lynn was frosting the cupcakes, trying to make them look delicate and beautiful, but it was rather difficult since she had to constantly keep her eye out to avoid getting bumped by her father, Jacques, and his large and imposing form, who was busy grabbing full thirty pound sacks of flour and getting them to Lilianna, her mother.

       “Honey I need this flour sifted. I also need two half pounds of sugar, brown and white, please,” Lilianna called back, trying her best to sound nice, but coming out a little impatient. The Dwimor’s Display of the Arcane in Mystical Objects and Artifacts had always caused an uproar in sales, but they had to keep the Noblemen happy, or else they would just be another bakery lost amongst the sea of ‘commoners’.

       “Right,” Jacques softly growled under his breath as he abruptly turned around, nudging Lynn, who then smudged the frosting on one of the cupcakes. Despite being only twelve, Lynn was rather talented with baking, although this was testing her patience, as she furiously wiped away the frosting and restarted.

Ding ding ding. The silver bell ringed once more from the front. Jacques instinctually turned to go to the front desk to deal with customers, but he was still holding the flour. He then turned to Raylen, to hand him the flour but was reminded once again that he couldn’t handle carrying anything because of his feeble frame.

       “Ugh…. Raylen go deal with the customers please,” Jacques muttered, squeezing his way past Raylen, who was just standing there, despite being the eldest son.

       “R-Right,” Raylen responded, and with a nervous smile went to the front of the store to deal with the customers. Immediately upon opening the door between the workshop and the front, the customer spoke fast and impatiently,

       “Hi, I’ve been waiting for three minutes and frankly, this is unacceptable. I expect more when I am to make the long and arduous trek from my District to this place.” It was clear from contempt in their tongue and the purple silk vest that they were from the Noblemen’s district, probably hosting foreign nobles in their house for Dwimor’s Display of the Arcane in Mystical Objects and Artifacts. And as Raylen realized this, he suddenly lost his ability to speak.

       “Uh…well.. I mean…we’re kinda… you know…..how can I uh..? Are you here to pick up or make a…delivery?” Lynn rolled her eyes upon hearing this disaster of a conversation as she packed the cupcakes into a tray and into a burlap sack before making her way to the front.

       “Hi, sorry about that.” she said with a smile as she walked up to the counter and shoved the burlap sack into Raylen’s arms, leaning close to him and whispering,

       “Noblemen’s district, the dark stone house on the fourth street. Please, just go,” delivering the instructions almost as a threat. Despite Raylen being older, and not nearly as put together as she, he could at least do a delivery. Though the customers preferred a sweet, younger gal as opposed to a scrawny teen, Raylen would be better off doing this then fumbling over his words. And with a push, Raylen was out the door, walking to the Noblemen’s district. 

       Raylen made his way through the cobbled streets, his presence noted far and wide by the soft squeaking that came from his tight leather shoes with each and every step. He tugged at his old linen clothes, a bland tan and brown; barely a step up from the burlap he held, as all of this exercise of walking with a single batch of cupcakes in his hands caused his messy brown bangs to slick to his forehead in sweat and cover his eyes, forcing him to constantly push it back only for it to fall back down again as he moved forward. His form was scrawny and lithe, having little to no muscle or meat on his bones despite working and living in a bakery. One might assume that he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, but he would begrudgingly correct them that he did, in fact, hit puberty already.

       As he approached the client’s doorstep, he rapped his shaky, thin knuckles on the door, barely making a sound. And he waited, despite in the back of his head he knew he should’ve knocked a little louder. After about five or six minutes of waiting, giving awkward smiles and waves to staring nobles that passed by, he finally gathered the courage to knock on the door once again, this time with a little more force. And after a few moments, the door swung open and Raylen put on his most endearing smile.

       “Hi! Uh cupcakes for ….” his brows furrowed as he read the name scrawled on parchment by his younger sister attached to the burlap sack, “Sir Binsworth?” he struggled to say, his voice shrill and high-pitched.

       “You mean Sir Brensworth?” The six foot tall, elegantly dressed butler said whilst raising an eyebrow at the oddly tall scrawny kid who was delivering cupcakes to his door.

       “Yes! Yes of course, uh cupcakes for Sir Brensworth,” Raylen quickly corrected himself.

       “Have you not been taught how to read, boy?” The Butler questioned.

       Raylen nervously laughed as he replied, “Uh….I’m not really a boy anymore… actually..,” completely ignoring the question. The Butler let out a soft chuckle, as this commoner certainly looked like one. 

       “Well alright then. Thank you,” he spoke succinctly as he took the cupcakes from Raylen. “Strange that they have you doing a boy’s job at the bakery then.”

       Raylen chuckled, forcing on a smile, “Oh well, you know, I-I’ve been around the bakery for a little while so I’m just trying my best to be helpful!” He responded, before quickly shuffling off. 

       It had always hurt when someone called him a boy, despite the fact that he was nineteen, a whole three years since he turned sixteen, the age where he was supposed to be a man and have his own living. However, that didn’t pan out and he stayed at the bakery to help out. But it seemed he couldn’t help at all at the bakery. He was in an eternal state of malnutrition, so he never had muscle to move any of the flour, sugar, or other baking goods. He couldn’t read or write well so he couldn’t keep records or make notes. He couldn’t bake at all, and he always managed to mix up the portions despite Lilianna’s guidance. Instead he just did deliveries, which was normally Lynn’s job when she was ten, but she even proved to be more helpful than Raylen. So at the ripe age of nineteen, a whole three years past since he was supposed to be on his own, he kept ‘helping’ at the Bakery.

       As his memories reminded him of his pathetic situation, he shook his head and he forced himself to smile and to not pout about it! He would find a way to be his own man, and he’d find a way to be helpful! And so he put his head up confidently, and walked through the cobbled roads, making slightly louder squeaks with each confident step. 

       And as he kept walking, thinking that today was the day, his wish seemed to come true, as a glint of light reflecting off the evening sun caught his eye. He couldn’t help but turn his head, thinking that perhaps it was a gold coin that was left on the floor. Instead his eyes came upon something shiny in the alleyway, just barely catching the evening sun, and reflecting the light towards him. As he went over to investigate, his eyes widened as he found something worth much more than a gold coin. There on the cobblestones laid an intricately carved skull made of obsidian with strange glowing runes etched into its sides. Where the eyes would be, instead were immaculately cut rubies which had caught the light and immediately stole Raylen’s attention. Raylen quickly scurried over, lifting the skull off the ground and looking into the ruby eyes. He was so enraptured by the beautiful scarlet gems, he hardly noticed the pool of crimson and wet chunks of flesh that lay on the floor just beyond the sunlight. As he held the skull, marveling at the rubies, he could see his pallid reflection, but it was different. He had a stronger jawline in his reflection. His eyes exuded confidence, not nervousness. He felt his dreams and aspirations soar as he held the Skull. So like any upstanding citizen in the Noblemen’s district, he threw it into his burlap sack, and walked away.

       Excited and nervous, he couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. With this, he could make his fortune! He could start his own business, wear nice clothes, and get some magic person to maybe make him stronger! But most of all, he would be able to actually help out his family. He could pay for all the ingredients they needed for a bakery, hell, he could even pay for another bakery! He practically yelped in excitement as he jovially turned his walk into a skip, unaware of the humming and buzzing of energy above his head, before azure wisps spun out of the cosmos, and into the shape of an eye, that slowly followed Raylen’s path all the way into the bakery. Raylen quickly busted the door open, grinning as he rushed into the empty forefront of the bakery and gave his younger sister a big hug.

       Lynn, furrowing her eyebrows and giggling softly at the sudden change in Raylen’s mood questioned, “Raylen what happened? Did you actually get a tip?”

       Raylen let go of Lynn with a huge grin, shaking his head. “Nope! I get something much better than a tip!” he exclaimed as he pushed past the door from the front and into the bakery.

       “Mom! Dad! I got something that will solve all of our problems!”

       Jacques and Lillianna chuckled, giving each other a knowing glance, that this is probably another one of Raylen’s crazy, not thought out at all, ideas.

       “Well you sound excited Raylen, what is it?” Jacques inquired, crossing his arms as Lynn made her way into the bakery.

       “Weeellll, we won’t ever have to worry about money again,” Raylen said with a grin, as he reached into his burlap sack, and produced the skull. Immediately Jacques’ face paled, and Lillianna covered her mouth in shock. 

       Raylen, thinking that they were surprised and excited, nodded frantically. “I know! Look at those rubies, we could sell this for a thousand, no, TEN thousand gold! We can get a new bakery!”

       “Son….” Lillianna spoke quietly, her voice quivering, “Where did you find that?”

       “I…..I found it in the alleyway in the Noblemen’s district. It was on the floor, no one wanted it, so I took it!”

       “Raylen… that doesn’t belong to us,” Jacques said, his voice low and serious. “Look at the symbols on the sides of it. It isn’t ours. That belongs to the Dwimor and we do not deal with those people!” Jacques practically shouted, the disapprovement and harshness in his tone growing.

       “N-No… It was on the floor… They didn’t want it…” Raylen said, his voice becoming quieter, beginning to lose that jovial tone as his entire posture slowly started to shrink back down.

       “Where would we even sell that Raylen? Huh? The only people who could even buy something like that would be the Dwimor! Do you wanna just waltz up to their museum and say ‘Ohhh hey! Look what I found on the floor, do you want it? I didn’t steal it or anything!’” Lynn shouted at Raylen, the sarcasm and hostility in her voice dripping like venom into Raylen’s already damaged pride.

       “We have to return this to the Dwimor before they think we stole anything or did anything,” Lilianna said, her voice quivering as she ran her fingers through her hair.

       “I…I just wanted to help…” Raylen whispered, his vision softly blurring as he looked at the floor, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. At that moment, Raylen felt a soft chill on the side of his neck as if a cold feather had just passed him by. And, as if it were as clear as day, he felt like he knew the answer.

       “Why don’t we just…kill the Dwimor?” he asked with a calm, soft demeanor. 

       The room fell silent as Lillianna, Lynn, and Jacques all just stared at Raylen, stunned.

       Jacques broke the silence. “What?”

       “I mean… If it’s their’s… and we kill them… then it becomes ours,” Raylen explained, it seeming to make perfect sense in his head. Another second of bewildered silence passed.

       Jacques held out his hand. “Son, give me the skull,” he demanded, his voice soft but stern, figuring that it was doing something to his son.

       A soft chill encompassed Raylen’s ear, as if a gentle wind had blown by him, that almost sounded like a whisper. And he clutched the skull closer to his body.

       “No. It’s mine. I’m going to sell this, and it’s going to help all of us,” Raylen retorted, a newfound confidence in his voice. Why was his family not understanding? 

       Jacques was stunned, furrowing his brows as Raylen, his son who couldn’t take an order for a cake, said no to his face. There was another second of tense silence, as none of them knew what to do.

      Then a harsh pounding sounded at the door. Immediately everyone’s heads snapped in the direction of the front door, before an imposing voice was heard on the other end.

       “This is the Dwimor Institute of the Arcane. We know what you have Raylen Mentlefellow. Open this door immediately and no one will be hurt.”

       Lillianna sighed shakily, walking towards the front door, “Good, thank the Gods this is over.”

       This time, it felt like five freezing skeletal fingers gently grasped the back of Raylen’s neck, sending goosebumps throughout his spine. “No. Don’t let them in. They’re not going to help us Mom. This is ours. They’re gonna take it away from us,” Raylen demanded, his voice unwavering.

       “Son, this isn’t ours to keep,” Jacques quietly but firmly ordered as he took a step forward towards Raylen.

       This time, Raylen could actually hear it. A soft whisper in the back of his head, a wisping and dying voice that sent shivers of gooseflesh down his spine and arms with each chilling syllable, “No… it’s yours…”

       “No….it’s mine,” Raylen parroted, taking a step back as he held the Skull, darkness beginning to ooze and drip out of the mouth of the skull like a heavy smoke. Upon seeing this, Jacques immediately took a step back in horror as the skull’s ruby eyes began to glow. At this point, Lillianna opened the door, to where immediately three fully armored guards came bursting into the bakery, holding spears in one hand, and shields in the other.

       “Step back citizen, he’s dangerous,” the soldier warned, raising his spear at Raylen. “Hand over the Skull. You have no idea what you’re holding,” he demanded, before taking a step closer towards Raylen.

       And for a brief moment, the cold grasp faded from Raylen. He saw the spears, the armored soldiers, and his family; their faces painted aghast with fear. He began to hyperventilate, his thoughts became a muddled goop, and he didn’t know what to do or what he wanted to do or what he should do. In panicked hesitation, he held out the skull as the guard continued to step forward.

       But as the guard got closer and closer, time seemed to slurr as Raylen heard a sharp whisper in the back of his skull, resonating to his eardrums. “They’ll lock you up… You and your family… You’ll be hopeless to help them if you hand me over…”

       Raylen couldn’t stand the idea of his family in jail, all the work they had put into this bakery would be gone. It would break his heart, and he would be hated by his family…

       “You can help them Raylen. Get them out of this situation. Trust me…” the voice purred, its words soft and alluring but the end of each word sending colder and colder shivers down Raylen’s spine.

       Raylen didn’t want to hurt anyone, he couldn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t have anything to protect or hurt anyone with, but he had to help his family. The voice was right.

       “A man protects his own…” the voice breathed into Raylen’s ear, solidifying the grasp it held on Raylen.

       And so Raylen shut his eyes, and with his submission he felt frozen spindly fingers gently dip into his skin and wrap around his throat and spine, gripping tightly so the cold resonated throughout his body and slowed his heart.

       “GET BACK!” The soldier screamed, before his voice was cut off by an impossibly strong gust of wind that deafened Raylen, and ripped his clothes and hair. Through the deafening swirling and cutting of wind, Raylen could make out the sound of tearing wood, ripping flesh, and torn metal.

       When Raylen opened his eyes, his vision was tinted crimson, he no longer held the skull in his hand, and his head felt heavier on his spine. He shook in terror as his squeaky leather boots were muffled by the pools of blood he stood in, amongst the wooden rubble of a bakery, and six mangled and mutilated corpses.