-Chapter One-

For All Things There is a Beginning

Today is, among all days, a special one.

The seventh birthday of any Polkos telekinetic is the day he or she learns of his or her limits.

A rough estimate of his or her maximum growth level, in other words.

Today is a special day, for today is Streep's seventh birthday.

"Streep Alexander Marill!!"

Streep mentally winced at hearing his full name. His mother must've found out about his latest antics. Oh well, the fun he had running in the woods more than made up for any damage he might've done to certain articles of clothing. Perhaps he had gone a little overboard with the speed-tree-climbing, though.

"Yes, ma?" Streep said, whimpering a little.

"Explain this, young man." Melia said, holding up a pair of pants with a very obvious hole in the rear.

"Uhm…Rabby got a hold of 'em?"

No sooner had Streep let out his fib than Melia grabbed Streep's ear and pulled the brown haired boy back into the house. She wasn't a very happy mother at all. Not only had Streep torn up a perfectly good pair of hand-me-down pants, but also had lied about the cause. This simply would not do!

"Tell me how Rabby could tear up your pants when he's stuffed, then." Melia said, pointing to the stuffed Rabite cuddly-toy.

"Ahm…he's not stuffed after all?" Streep said, looking completely innocent.

That earned Streep a ten-minute time-out. It probably wasn't the best way of starting your seventh birthday, but the boy didn't care. The time-out corner made for a great place to play war with the dust bunnies. Just look at them the right way, strain hard enough, and the things flew at one another. The lad got a kick out of watching them fly high, even though the effort tired him out a good bit.

Of course every now and then, his mother would come by and chastise him some for playing in the corner, but it didn't have much of an effect. The boy was far too active and happy to take "no" as an answer. So, as soon as his mother turned her attention to other activities, the bunnies flew once more.

Once his ten minutes were up, Streep headed straight back outside. It was a habit, to be quite honest. The boy thrived in the presence of a sunny sky and plenty of green. Mostly, however, it was the plenty of green part that he enjoyed. If rain were falling, Streep would simply move his activities to under a local tree. Of course, this made the boy all the harder to track, since his activities then frequently entailed climbing the aforementioned tree.

Today, however, was a sunny day. So, as Streep left the house, the boy homed in on the position of his sister and joined in on her own brand of antics. Which, in today's case, involved practicing with spells.

"What'cha doin, Sara?" Streep asked as he approached his sister.

"What'cha think I'm doin, Streep?" Sara said, sweating a small river from her work.

Sara was, plainly put, the spitting image of her mother, even at her tender age of eight. Beautiful brown hair, thin body, deep blue eyes, and a personality that tended to beat most people over the head with the Lead Pipe of Harsh Reality. Both she and Streep took after Melia much more than they did after their father, although it was obvious that he contributed to the pair. Like all Marill's, Streep and Sara both had the characteristic webbing in their iris, although Sara had less of it than Streep did. And, like their father, both could eat until they were blue in the face and still not gain a single pound. Gotta love those genetics.

"You're blowin stuff up again, aren't cha?"

"Well I have to practice somehow, don't I?" Sara responded, winding up to cast another Salamander spell.

"That's what ya said two weeks ago. Maru wasn't happy when you hit his stuff with that fireball, either."

Maru was Streep's sixteen-year-old brother, and the pride of Streep's father. He was also a rather violent person, mostly due to just how extremely powerful he was. On the scale that the village used, the average Polkos telekinetic rated a ten. Maru, on his seventh birthday, was rated an eighteen. That number had grown in the past few years to a value of twenty-two, and showed no signs of stopping. For whatever reason, Maru was outside of the rules as far as growth level went. Eventually, it would probably cause the death of the boy, but not now.

"Meh, Maru is never happy. Gettin him to smile is like tryin to get a watermelon to talk." Sara said.

"You mean watermelons don't talk?"

"'Course they don't, silly!" Sara exclaimed, casting her spell.

It was a magnificent small ball of crimson flame, arcing high into the sky before terminating in a puff of fire. Sara admired her work, then began reading some more in a book she had on magic. Streep read with her, following along but not really understanding a word. He could read just fine, of course, but the words amounted to gibberish in his mind. Streep was not a mage by any definition of the term. His forte was more in the territory of curiosity.

"Why don't you try, Streep?"

The boy let out an unknowing "Huh?" before he realized what his sister was talking about. Streep politely refused the offer, but Sara wasn't going to let him get away that easy.

"Nuh-uh, Streep. Now, just concentrate real hard about a ball of fire." Sara said, pulling Streep up.

"Aww, do I haveta?" Streep whined.

"Yep." Sara said, "You concentratin yet?"

Streep let out a sigh, and then began focusing on creating the orb of red that Sara desired to get out of him. But no matter how hard the boy strained, he couldn't quite get it out. He was always this way about magic. He did show a certain level of proficiency with Dryad magic, but he didn't have the discipline to do anything with it. Streep much preferred the idea of adventuring in the woods to the prospect of bringing the woods to him. Plus it involved a lot of boring bookwork, none of which dealing with the outside world.

"Harder, Streep! Think about the feel of the heat of the fire!"

"I'm thinkin about it! I call it the sun and I feel like runnin around under it, not standing here tryin to make another one."

Sara gently whacked the back of Streep's head, and then urged the boy on more. Finally, the boy managed to work up a small cinder in front of him. Seeing this, Streep flung the cinder into the air and watched as the wind beat the thing around. Somewhere, that cinder ended its existence in a small burst of smoke, but nowhere that Streep saw. Sara frowned a little, but gave in.

"Ok, I'll accept that. But I'm gonna expect more out of you next time!" Sara said, then smiling.

"That's okay. I'll just get Mom to fake one for me!" Streep said as he ran away.

"Oh no you don't, little brother!" Sara laughed, chasing her brother.

The two ran after each other for most of the afternoon, eventually falling into games of Hide and Seek. Games which Streep won. The boy was, among a few precious things, an excellent runner. So, no matter what position he was playing, Streep always won at Hide and Seek. The lad did, however, make things a little more even when he started climbing trees. Sara was almost as good at Streep at climbing the limbs, so the two were much better matched when Streep hid in the trees.

Eventually, however, the two had to end their fun and games. Dinner was fast approaching, and their father much preferred that they be clean while at the dinner table. Melia oversaw the operation of getting them clean, but for the most part didn't intervene. Both Streep and Sara had caught onto the process of washing themselves fairly quickly, and no longer needed any help with the matter. Of course, this fact made many other mothers in Polkos quite jealous. Often, the villagers would ask Melia how she taught such young children to do things that ten-year-olds still needed help with. Melia never had an answer, though. Her excuse was that the two were just naturally bright.

You couldn't pay her enough to bring up another child, though. Three was more than enough.

"What's for dinner, mama?" Streep asked as Melia dried him off.

"An experiment of mine, Streep. It's a recipe from the mainland called 'curry.' I'm not really sure what to expect, but it looks good. Had to remove some ingredients from it, though. The original would have burned your tongue right off."

"Like a Salamander spell?" Sara asked from an adjacent room.

"Wrong type of burn, dear." Melia replied, laughing a little.

Soon the two were dressed and running outside to greet their father, Garn. Among the locals, Garn was a towering man, a pillar of the community. Black hair, incredible height, large muscles…he was the cookie-cutter father in appearance. As a father, however, he was a little harsh. He expected no less than perfection from his progeny, much to Melia's distaste. Plainly put, there was very little love between Garn and Melia when they married, something which the long years of their marriage hadn't changed. It had been an arranged marriage, like many in Polkos, so Melia had no choice in the matter. Rumors said that the reason Melia had so many children was to remind herself that she was supposed to love Garn. Rumors that were most probably true.

It was an awkward situation at best, but Melia shielded her children from any ill words. She may not have had a large place in her heart for Garn, but she loved her children with every ounce of her heart that remained. "My little angels" was not an uncommon reference for her to make.

"Welcome home, father." Streep and Sara said in unison, doing there best to keep a formal tone. Formality was something that Garn was very aware of, and he noted its presence at all times.

"I thank you for your welcome. Did you both have a pleasant day?" Garn said.

"Yes, sir." the two responded.

"Get into any trouble?"

"I kinda wore a hole in a pair of pants…" Streep said, looking down.

"But you shoulda seen how fast he climbed the trees!" Sara said, supporting her brother.

Garn eyed Streep some, then proceeded on past the two. Under normal circumstances, Garn would have chastised Streep. Today, however, was Streep's birthday. Garn was always lenient to the children on their birthdays.

"Where is Maru, Melia?" Garn asked as he entered the house.

"Oh, Mina wanted him for something or another. Something gives me the impression she has her eye on your son, dear."

"Hmph. Maru deserves a czarina, not a peasant girl." Garn said, sitting down in a chair.

"Don't you tell him that, Garn. I'd like to see love take its natural in this village for once."

"I shall tell him whatever I wish. He's my son, after all."

You couldn't tell it by looking at them, but both Garn and Melia were staring each other down as they talked. Melia was, from experience, totally against the idea of arranged marriages. Garn was, from experience, all for the idea of arranged marriages. It was an issue they frequently locked horns on.

A few minutes later, Maru entered the house. As imposing a sight as Garn was, Maru was downright intimidating. Jet black hair covered his head, his eyes frequently locked in a glare. Around Mina, the boy was much more "normal," but in the presence of family he changed into a cold-hearted individual, the threat of physical violence always attached to his presence. He was also very awkward in his appearance, as he was tall, tan, and rather scrawny. Every bit of him was, of course, muscle, but he provided a stark contrast to the very muscular Garn. Then again, one doesn't really need muscles when one can lift large rocks by simply focusing on them.

"I apologize for my absence, father. Mina requested my presence." Maru said, as formal as he could be.

"And do tell me, what did Mina need you for?" Garn said, meeting Maru's gaze.

"She requested that I join her for dinner next week, sir."

"Your response?" Garn asked, knowing very well what Maru would say in such a circumstance.

"I stated that I would ask for permission first, then give her an appropriate answer, sir."

"Don't worry about it, Maru. I'm sure we'll be fine without you around for a night, dear." Melia chipped in.

For a few moments, there was an extremely awkward silence in the room. Maru did wish to join Mina, but he knew very well that his father would not approve. Melia's answer only made him wish all the more than Garn would approve; which he didn't, of course.

"I'm afraid that will not be acceptable, Maru. Please tell Mina tomorrow that you will be unable to join her." Garn said, glaring at Melia some.

Maru merely nodded his head at his father's words, then sat in another chair in the room. Streep and Sara both looked at each other and shook their heads. They knew what Maru wanted, and they both knew that he wasn't going to get it unless he disobeyed Garn. The Underworld would freeze over before that happened.

What was left of the afternoon proceeded without incident, although tension between the older family members was unusually high. When dinner came, Garn found the food indigestible due to it "smelling horrible," and made a point of telling Melia so. Streep, however, was in absolute heaven. This "curry" had, in one bite, become his favorite food. The flavors mixing together, the spicy peppers, the wonderful colors…it was all beyond words to the boy. Well, maybe not beyond words.

"This is the best food I've ever had, ma!" Streep exclaimed in joy.

"I suggest you learn how to cook it yourself, then. I certainly shall not consume it again." Garn said harshly.

Melia completely ignored Garn's words, thanking Streep for his compliment. Garn frequently disliked Melia's experiments, preferring things of much simpler nature, so the woman had become accustomed to insults. Everyone enjoyed the modest cake that Melia brought from the kitchen, however. It had been difficult to obtain the ingredients for the cake, but Melia wouldn't have Streep's seventh birthday without one.

Finally, the big moment had come. Maru and Garn left the dinner table to fetch the materials for testing Streep while the rest of the family moved into the living room. It wasn't much of a living room, to be quite honest, nor was it a very impressive house. But it was home, and that was all that mattered.

Looking up at the mantle, Streep's eyes sat squarely on the sword hung high. Bladegash – the most important of the family heirlooms. One could trace the entire Marill family line simply by recalling the former owners of the sword. It was a special blade, too, and not just for its history. A telekinetic, like those of Polkos, could pass their powers through the sword, amplifying the power of said abilities. The sword glowed a dull red when such a thing was done, making for an amazing effect. But the blade had many years on it now, and was no longer truly fit for active duty. So there it hung, watching over, but not participating in, future generations of Marills.

"Streep, please come here." Garn said, entering the room with a large amount of various chemicals and homemade measuring devices.

Streep hopped up and did as his father told him. When Garn pulled out a long needle, however, Streep stopped dead in his tracks. Like most children, Streep wasn't at all fond of needles.

"Don't be a wuss, Streeper. It's just a needle." Maru said, looking at the boy.

With a little more urging on from the female family members, Streep finally sat down in a chair next to Garn. What happened next was a bit of a tricky operation. First, a sample of Streep's blood was taken. That blood was then added to a specific chemical. Then, the resulting solution was mixed in equal parts with another chemical. In all, the process involved about five different solutions, and took about ten minutes to finish. Finally, it was time for the truth to be revealed. Garn put a sample of the final mixture into a device, and watched as the needle stopped moving.

Six.

"What?" Garn said, obviously confused, "Maru, are you certain this thing is working properly?"

"It should be. Why…" Maru trailed off as he read the meter.

The two looked at each other. Surely there must be a mistake. No Marill could ever bear a child that was rated a six. It went against the very core of the family name! To say "Marill" was to say "power." Garn turned around and took another blood sample. Again Garn put the blood through the chemicals, again through the mixing, and again through the meter.


And again, a six.

Garn turned around once more, aiming on taking another sample. Streep, however, shrank back from his father. The needle hurt, and Streep was feeling very sore from it. Garn looked at his son – no, looked at Streep. At that moment, Garn stopped associating the word "Streep" with the word "son."

"What's wrong, Garn?" Melia asked, noticing Garn's obvious unease.

"Six." Garn said, "Streep is a six."

"Six?" Streep said, completely oblivious to the scale he was being rated on, "That's great! I mean, since you're always supposed to aim to be number one, and since six is only five away from one, I must be really skilled!"

Oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious. Streep was practically bursting with mistaken joy. In Garn's mind, there was no possible way that this…thing was the fruit of his loins. A six?! No, this was not a Marill. This must be some mutt, a product of an unfaithful Melia. Garn glared at his "wife" with these newly made thoughts.

"I don't think you're on tha right scale, Streep." Sara said, looking at Streep, "The higher the number, the better, I think."

"Well, at least I'm not a zero, then!" Streep said perkily.

The boy was completely dumbfounded as he watched his father storm out of the house. The look on Maru's face told Streep that something was wrong, but the look on his mother's face completely conflicted with Maru's. Surely his mother wouldn't be smiling if something were wrong.

"What's wrong with father, mama?" Streep asked, innocently.

"Nothing. He was just surprised…" Melia said, holding back her emotions, "Now here, I made you a birthday present."

It was a beautiful, brilliant red scarf. Streep immediately became attached to it, putting it on and playing with the loose end. Sara joined in on Streep's fun, proceeding to name the article of clothing "Scarfy." It was the first piece of clothing ever made just for Streep. The first thing he had ever worn that wasn't a hand-me-down.

All the while, Maru was glaring at his brother. Streep was supposed to have been his rival, a match for Maru's powers. A six could never match Maru. A six couldn't even begin to touch Maru. Garn had promised Maru a strong brother, one that Maru could train alongside. He had been promised a brother that could understand him. A six was none of these things. Streep Alexander Marill was a six. He was therefore weak, and completely useless in all regards.

Almost the entire village shared a similar sentiment: a hatred for weakness and a complete lack of tolerance for it. Tomorrow, the village would find out that Streep was weak. Seven years old, and already hated by the populace for something he himself had no control over.

"I can't wait to show this to everyone tomorrow!" Streep exclaimed.

"Isn't it a bit warm out for a scarf, though?" Sara inquired.

"Well, Maru says I'm too old for Rabby, but that doesn't stop me from playin with 'im!" Streep replied.

"T-there'll be time enough for that tomorrow, children." Melia said, her voice changing in pitch, "Off to bed with the both of you."

The pair did as they told, but didn't go to sleep for a long time. Partially because they were such active children, and partially because Melia and Garn screamed at each other for the next two hours, arguing over Streep. Their voices were loud enough to wake the dead, and put the fear of the Goddess in both Streep and his sister. Eventually, Maru passed by Streep and Sara's room.

"What are mother and father arguing about, Maru?" Streep asked from his bed.

"They're arguing about you, Streeper."

"Why?"

"Because you're a disgrace, Streeper."

"Why am I a disgrace?" Streep inquired.

"Because," Maru said, looking at Streep, "because you're worthless."

Streep passed that word through his mind. Worthless. How could he be worthless? That didn't make any sense at all. Everybody has worth, at least according to his mother. So how could Streep be worthless? In the end, Streep gave up thinking about it and simply fell asleep after the arguing ceased. The boy was in a deep slumber by the time Melia came in. The woman kneeled down next to her child and ran her fingers through his hair. Garn had said that he would no longer accept Streep as his son, and that anything dealing with Streep was solely Melia's area of concern. If the boy ever needed help, Garn would make sure to withhold that help if he was capable of giving it.

It's a terrible thing to be hated by mostly-strangers, but it's an even worse thing to be disowned by your own father.

"Mother, is everything fine?" Sara asked, the eight-year-old girl still awake.

"Yes, dear." Melia said, drying her formerly teary eyes, "Everything is perfectly fine."

Melia then went over to Sara and tucked the girl in. Seeing that both were in bed and with their eyes closed, Melia left the room. She returned shortly with a pillow and bed sheets, making a small place for herself on the floor. If Garn refused to love Streep, Melia would refuse to love Garn.

And in the middle of it all was Maru, confused as to which side was correct. The poor boy didn't know what to do. And so he sat in his bed, staying up the whole night, running things through his mind. It was enough to unsettle the mind of any normal person. Poor Maru, however, wasn't any normal person.

Today was, among all days, special.

Today was Streep's seventh birthday.

Today, Streep Alexander Marill was rated a six. A weakling.

And today, today marked the beginnings of all his troubles.