The sun beat down upon a field of grain being harvested. All around there were sounds of stalks being cut down and the shuffling of feet, Seble being one of them. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed his mousy brown hair out of the way as he grabbed another handful of stalks and cut them with his sickle before putting the stalks with the rest in his bag on his back. As he reached for the next handful, a horn blew, signifying the end of the day. Seble stretched from his crouched position and twisted as many others did before joining them in the march back to the wall, a simple wood log wall around the village. As everyone was walking, there was talk of the harvest and the coming winter, along with the village harvest festival. Seble simply moved along, ignoring this, and made his way into the village, where he made his way to the grain hut, a simple squat building that was slightly dug into the ground. As he approached the hut with the others, he saw the cats lying on the roof as usual, barely paying attention to those below. As soon as it was his turn, he handed over his bag to the lady weighing the bags. She said in a croaking voice as the scales evened out, “Half a loaf." Seble looked at the scales before taking his payment—a green hexagonal coin with some odd text around it and the face of a ghastly beast that Seble did not know the name of. Seble made his way along the village, feeling his backache. There was no road to speak of, just a dirt path that wormed its way through the village. The village consisted of the grain hut, the church, which was the only tall building, the blacksmith, which was the only one made of stone, the village bakery, which was currently making bread, the lumber mill, which was closest to the gate, and the huts, which were simple wood longs and thatch roofs. Seble made his way to the one he called home, and as he neared the door, he could hear bickering inside. Letting out a sigh, thinking the two were at it again, he opened the door and entered, making sure to quickly close the door. Inside was a simple one-room house with a stone stove counter and barrel at the back left with a simple table and stools, and at the front right were simple bed rolls on the floor made of hay and old blankets with Father’s ax by them. At the table stood two men, one with long gray hair pulled into a bun, a thin face tanned and currently contorted in anger, making his forest green eyes seem darker than usual. This was Seble's father, Holston, who was currently yelling, "Why do you keep on about this? Your place is here." On the other side of the table was the other man, who had short, mousy brown hair and an oval face also contorted in anger, making his olive green eyes stand out less with his tan skin. This was Seble's brother, Demir, who retorted, “Because I don’t want to stay here; with my blacksmithing skills, I can make so much coin in the big city; we could eat more than bread; all I need is a few coins to make it.”. Holston looked at his son in disappointment and was about to speak when he saw Seble, and his face softened before turning back to Demir. "That is enough; you are needed here, and we need these coins for winter." It was quite clear that Demir was not willing to let this go, but he stood still. At this point, Seble put his coin with the rest on the table, which equals two, one from his father as Demir was still an apprentice. At this, Holston grabs them, saying, “How is your back?” He moves to the beds and moves one of them, revealing a small hole that contains a bag of coins which was far too light to buy a decent amount of winter supplies. Seble grumbles “Fine” as he goes to the barrel and grabs a loaf of bread for them to share. Holston comes back after putting the bed back over the hole and sits down at the table. Seble makes his way to the table after putting his sickle down on the counter and washing his hands in a bucket by the stove. He places the bread down before joining Holston and Demir in crossing one arm over the other in front of his chest. They all began the prayer together to Atar and Nytia. Afterward, the bread was split into three and eaten. Once there was none left to eat, the three went to sleep with half-filled bellies and slept.

  Seble awoke before the sun and first washed his face with the bucket before getting dressed and making his way to the well. As he approached, he saw a line. Most women were up at this hour as they had to have time to get the house in order. Seble got in line and waited, hearing the usual gossip from many mouths. As the line moved, someone from behind asked, “How's your father and brother doing?”. It was Emilia; she was a foot shorter than Seble, with a round nose and the usual tan skin and green eyes. Seble replayed with a tired tone, “Still bickering, as usual; how's Tim doing?”. Emilia went on about her youngest. Once it was Seble's turn, he attached his bucket to the rope and sent it down the well. As he pulled it up, he said to Emilia, “That's nice to hear; it sounds like he's growing fast." As soon as the bucket was in his hand, he said a short goodbye and headed home. It was only when he entered the dark house that he noticed there was a dim glow in his bucket. Confused, he put the bucket down by the stove and pulled the softly glowing thing from the bucket. It was a small green orb that fit in the palm of his hand, somewhat transparent, and Seble could have sworn there were some type of words etched with it, which hit the soft glow. He suddenly heard a yawn, quickly hid the glowing orb in his shirt, and threw on his shawl, which hit the soft glow, before standing and grabbing his sickle. Seble called to his father, trying to sound as he usually does, “Morning water is ready; I will be heading to the field soon with anything you need." Holston shook his head before getting up and looking at the sleeping Demir with a concerned look. Seble, seeing this, pulled out a loaf from the barrel and set it on the table. After that, he heads to the door, looking at his father and saying with a soft tone, “He will eventually come around.” Holston looks at Seble and gives a smile at his words. With that, Seble leaves for the fields. He stops by the grain hut and grabs a bag before heading out. Most of the fields close to the wall were clear, which meant everyone was uneasy since they had to move farther and farther from the wall. Seble knew that if he wished to make more coins, he was going to have to risk going farther out than the rest of the farmers who were staying in groups. Seble had nearly a whole loaf worth of grain when a sound erupted—a sound Seble had hoped to never hear in his lifetime—a bell, loud and clear—the one that stayed quiet for most of Seble’s life. Before Seble could comprehend what he heard, he saw them. They were pale blue like they had walked through the dead of winter. eyes from icy blue to sky blue. All of them were clad in leather armor. A single moment of stillness set in before an arrow broke it, piercing someone in the shoulder. That sight sent many into a panic, running to get to the gates while the pale charged from the right to intercept them. Seble nearly began to run through the gate when an arrow came within a few breaths of his face, leaving a small scratch. This quickly led to him falling on his butt and twisting to crawl away from the arrow. He took two attempts to get to his feet when he saw that not only were there two raiders closing in on him but that the gate was nearly closed. At this sight, there was a feeling of fire starting in his heart and flowing through his entire person as if his blood had become oil and his skin was wood, with his heart the flint and steel. He started to run, and suddenly time seemed to slow down. He ran at a curve, avoiding the raiders and heading for the gate. In what felt like a few seconds, he found himself at the gate and slipped in with the few others who had managed to not get entangled with the raiders. As soon as he was inside the gate, Seble fell to his knees, feeling like his lungs were frozen and each breath felt like a shard of ice in his throat. His skin still felt like it was on fire, but the worst of it was right over his heart. He reached under his shawl and found the odd orb missing. As he sat there on the ground with many others, someone called out, "Wait, how are you here? You were at least 120 paces out from the wall!” Another chimed in, saying, “Yeah, I saw you get hit with an arrow.” At this, a voice called out with a loudness that made everyone jump, with a few beginning to hiccup. A man came into view, his skin tan and his hair a dark brown, cleanly cut. What stood out were his eyes, which were like unpolished emeralds with many lighter and darker spots and a clarity to his eyes that made many look away or be entranced. His name was Pastor Jackson, and he spoke with a softer voice since he had most of the people's attention. “Let us not dwell on what we might or might not have seen; seeing as many of you were running for their lives, let us thank...” Before he could continue his words, the gate blew open with great force. Morgan was forced to the ground by it, with a piece of the gate cutting his ear. As his head hit the floor once and bounced back up, he saw the pale raiders entering and charging Jackson, with him running away in fear, leaving everyone. His head fell again, laying there as he heard the bellowing of some unknown beast and the cries of others who had stuffed far worse wounds due to the gate. The last thing he saw was the massive paw of the beast that had blown the gate wide open.

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