Hazel had woken with the sun every day since she could remember, and today was no exception. Soft morning light poured into the attic of her Aunt Ches's house, casting a faint orange tint across the small bedroom. Hazel threw off the brown blanket her aunt had placed over the rickety spare bed and rose silently. A loud snore to her left reminded her that the rest of her family didn't have the same penchant for rising early. She did not have to be reminded of how irritable her cousins were when they were stirred early.

Slowly, Hazel climbed down the ladder to the single room below the attic. The familiar smell of bread wafted through the first floor of the house, a scent that would always be reminiscent of carnival week. It was the only time of year that Hazel got to leave her parents' farm for more than a day. The week the carnival opened its doors, she rode over to Aunt Chestnut and Uncle George's home to stay with them. Most of her time there would be spent with her cousins. Logan, who was a few years older than her, loved showing off the new baking techniques he'd learned from his father since last time they spoke. The whole family would sit around a roaring fire and eat his creations while listening to middle-child Huck spin tales. The boy had a gift with words. When asked, he'd say he was excited to help take over George's bakery, but everyone knew he'd be happier as a writer. Then there was Juniper, the youngest and Hazel's favorite. Juniper was an aspiring sorcerer. She'd been studying under her parents' noses for two years. A day with Juniper meant a day of tricks and mysticism. It was the closest Hazel would ever get to an adventure in the outskirts of Westhaven.

Since Juniper wasn't awake yet, Hazel decided to walk down to the docks. She passed the small front garden, noting how well the pumpkins seemed to be growing this year. Gravel crunched under her feet as she made her way through the tired, empty streets of her aunt's small neighborhood. Most everyone was still asleep, which Hazel thought was a small miracle as she rounded a corner. John the Blacksmith was already up and working. "Hey!" Hazel yelled over the loud hammering.

Miraculously, John heard her. "Hello there! Running off again, lass?"

"Only for a bit. I'll be back by noon!"

"That's what you said last year, and we ended up searching for an hour before finding you again," John laughed at the memory, and Hazel felt her face go red. "Don't go jumping on any ships, okay?"

She really hadn't set out to jump on the fishing boat, but when one of the ship's crewmen called her a coward, her sense of pride dwarfed all logic. "I promise I won't. Have a good day, John!"

The man waved and returned to his anvil. Hazel continued on to the small community market. Brightly colored stalls were arranged in a loose circle, with beautifully painted signs advertising their wares. An emerald ring in the display at Classic Jewelers caught her eye. The gold band had a lovely shine, and the emerald itself refracted the morning light beautifully. Hazel had a deep love for jewels. They were expensive, though, more expensive than her or her family could afford. One day she'd be able to own a necklace strung with rubies, or a peridot bracelet, or maybe even a pair of earrings set with diamonds. One day.

"Are you looking to buy anything, sweetheart?" The shop owner asked condescendingly.

Hazel snapped out of her trance and shook her head. Her face stayed calm, but she could feel anger swelling up in her chest. She quickly turned and rushed off towards the butcher's tent in order to avoid starting a brawl. There was a space between the small shop and the home of the man that owned it. She slipped through the alley, around a dark grey canopy housing another shop, and found herself in a small tent city.

The place had been a clearing for as long as Hazel could remember; the collection of canvas-covered tents must be new. A small fire-pit in front of her radiated heat, but she barely noticed it over the smell of the bubbling cauldron hanging above the flame. Laundry day. It was hard to breathe through the cloud of musty humidity. The woman stirring the pot didn't seem to notice Hazel arrive, and since she didn't say anything when Hazel ran past, she assumed that the woman didn't care.

Hazel ran until the musk of dirt was replaced with the strong, salty smell of seawater. She'd finally reached the shore. Just to her left were tall racks with today's catches already strung up on display. Most people hated walking through the fish racks, but Hazel really didn't mind. Sure they smelled just as bad as the laundry, but they were a sign that she was no longer miles away from the sea. She wanted to be a sailor someday. If she could run a ship for the King's Royal Fleet, she'd do it. If not, she'd turn to piracy. Hazel secretly hoped she'd have to become a pirate. There weren't half as many rules, and she could decide her own courses. Trying to start a career in illegal activity right outside the capital of the nation was probably not the best idea, though. At least if she tried to start with the Fleet, she could get on a couple of people's good-sides first.

There was a loud crash, and Hazel was thrown forward into a rack of fish. The ground shook from the force of it. As soon as she regained her balance, Hazel jumped up and spun around to find the source of the disturbance. Saturated violet light filled her vision. It gradually died down to reveal that where there was once a little stone and some grass, there was now a crater of purpley-grey metal. Hazel cautiously stepped towards the whole, curiosity taking over her sense of judgement. The area around the crater was surprisingly cold. If watching John work had taught her anything, it was that when metal started to glow, that meant it was hot. So what was this then? She peered down into the deepest part of the crater, expecting to find the source of the foreign material, but when her mind finally registered what she was looking at, she gasped.

There was a person in the hole.