For generations, my family has relied on magic for nearly everything. It's a luxury only the rich can afford, and since I am descended from the great King Gabriel – a skilled enchanter who worked to unite the once-separated nations of the world – we can afford today's most skilled in the art of enchanting as personal counselors, guides, helpers, providers, and supervisors. Families are allotted their pay based on heritage – an unfair but ancient custom, though we all hold the same positions, except for the outlaws, personal enchanters, and parents (they must educate their children); there are a few exceptions, though.

I've learned that the Old World once used metal as a form of currency, but we have no need of that. Instead, the Watchers (our elite government officials) keep logs of our disbursement and limit it. Most of what they do, however, remains a mystery to the people. They live in total isolation. A large marble wall runs around the Watchers' mansion, which was supposedly modeled after a ruler's home in the forgotten Americas; I speak as I have been educated, but that's really nothing more than a rumor.
We are told that the gain of knowledge was once a slow process, due to the fact that our species used manual labor - rather than magic – to receive daily necessities. It is a curious, foreign concept to me, but I assume they never thought twice about it. So, we study. We study hard and hope for the world's secrets to become known to us.

In the early days of our unified nation, wise men were faced with the problems of deciding the nature of the then very new world. They decided that – though we cannot find much meaning in the very human existence – we can discern that knowledge is the most important thing anyone can hope to possess. So, after the great Kings and enchanters unified their power in the Sorcerers' Revolution and we became able to harness the potential of magic (as those in the world's beginning did), the sons of our founders and those lucky enough to survive the atomic wars became studiers and thinkers – for the most part.

Those of dishonorable heritage are forced to either live in separation from our civilization to provide for themselves, or remain here and study more simple material. Those who stay complete their education once they finish their brief textbooks, while I will study (in different levels) until I reach parenthood, become old and frail, or am accepted for an honored occupation. The destitute are not allowed to hire enchanters, so they work their own spells. Since their education is less detailed than ours, they don't usually produce or receive enough food to survive. Their pay is used to make up for that difference and purchase food from others' abundance.

I am one of the lucky unlucky few. Descended from royalty, I have more than plenty, but take abuse from those of lesser heritage on a daily basis. If I finish my Prime Education (the opening level) with impressive marks, I may become an enchanter. Enchanters live in another community unless they vouch to remain, but that happens rarely. Life is apparently burdenless there (as it is for the elderly, who are solitary), because they must meditate and find peace in the world to make their spells strong.

Paul, just one enchanter who supports my family, has told me of the calm springs, pleasant meadows, and involved family lives there. Here, we spend little time with family. They are viewed primarily as the means of our race's reproduction. So, feelings are held and stifled.

While learning about poetry in my early education, I read texts written by poets of the Old World, describing feeling of affection. Recently, those poems were removed from our Prime Education system, probably because they (the Watchers) believe the texts deteriorate the views they wish to instill. Those poems left a certain empty feeling in my heart, but I know what that emptiness is. It's a distraction. I simply must study, and set aside the factors that slow “progress.”

A few times, I have seen this feeling in action, among those separated from our community, through my ancient window. Once study, spell casting (by enchanters), and most of my manifestation techniques are completed, I go to bed. The enchanters cast deep-sleeping spells over me during the day, but I skip the manifestation ritual – which violates our ancient law-book – because I cannot help my curiosity. Nearly every night, I stealthily walk to my window, hoping not to alert my parents (who remain awake long after I go to bed), and just look. It's my favorite kind of study; there are no textbooks, only my eyes and ears.

Families smile and embrace one another. I see tears and affection. However, this is more than most can say. My window should have been boarded years ago, but the government soon weakened after deciding to remove one of the population's last means of seeing the outside world. They were performing manual labor, which is always detrimental.

At that time, I must have been only about four feet in height. My age, of course, has never been known to me, since our system of time – the calendar, I believe – was lost in the atomic wars. Anyway, the weakened magic allowed some crop-devouring, spell-sabotaging animals to awaken from their deep, spell-induced slumber. I saw a single creature, a deer, outside my window one night. It gave me a curious feeling, seeing something that we lost so many years ago, before my time.

Sometimes I wish I could experience changing weather, too – just for once. I have never seen hail, sleet, or snow. Our climate is indifferent, because of the Watchers. Sun, rain, darkness. It's to keep our crops growing all the time.

Despite my curiosity and desire for change, my mind is mostly occupied with worry. My Prime Education is nearly over. I must go to the enchanters' community. No longer can I bear the study, the longing, the emptiness. “You will go,” I keep telling myself. “You will find peace.” Is this a false hope?

The time has come for my Prime Education to end. My palms are sweating. What will the outcome be?

I apologize for the gap in my writing. The pages I write on are ancient and must be conserved. Writing is, after all, manual labor. Only the Watchers can legally use a pen and paper; they have to record our wages and write our education volumes. In addition, I write this in the dark, at the time when I should be sleeping.

Anyway, I have just completed the last pages of my textbooks. Before the next sunset, the Watchers will pay a visit to me – if I'm lucky enough to become an enchanter. If I'm really lucky, I may even become a new Watcher! My mother tells me to calm down, but how can I? She has literally never shown signs of emotion. Whether that is by nature or effective stifling, I'll never know. I, however, am always one to panic. “Will we have enough to eat?” “What if the Watchers' spells die out?” Sometimes, this effectively provokes the fail of spells. Can someone who has ruined spells time and time again really become an enchanter?

That next sunset has come, and not a single person has visited me. A failure. That's what I am. I have purposelessly devoured my textbooks and studied harder than I can imagine anyone else did. I'll study for a near eternity, reproduce, and join the elderly in their peaceful habitat, too old to enjoy it. Who was I to think I was so special – so gifted? My parents have and will continue to live that boring lifestyle. As a wreck, I plop into my bed, not wanting to wake up.

But I do. New textbooks, representing another sixth of my life, are placed before me. I'm expected to study, study, study, but that's impossible. I skim the pages and yearn for a different life. I fail my assignments. Useless, useless!

Days continue in this manner. My food goes untouched. The enchanters' spells begin to falter. I'm a jinx. This world would be better without me. Why? Because my attitude affects the neighbors too, and they're anything but pleased.

After a few more sunsets, I have a dream, which is - in itself - impossible. They were eradicated at the beginning of our nation. A man, old and wise in appearance, keeps pointing his finger at something in the distance. I am outdoors, I realize. The dream ends too quickly. I don't know what the man was pointing toward.

I, of course, remain quiet about my dream. Who knows what would happen to me if it became known that I have this ability? However, that's not the end of it. I continue to dream, every night. After the sunset following my encounter with the old man, I dream about snow. I catch it on my tongue and, for the first time, feel as though I know how change feels. It brings me joy to run freely and absorb the cool atmosphere that my mind creates, though I have never experienced true cold.

The next night, I dream about affection. Children and family members – both close and distant - surround me. I walk with one I feel great affection toward near a calm spring, exactly as Paul had described those in his community. I study this person's face, and perceive that we share the same age. We calmly converse, then I say something I cannot understand. I stop and whisper, “I love you.”

Next, I dream about the old man again. He continues pointing, and I realize he is trying to show me the people outside my civilization, the people who lack knowledge of the practice of magic. He directs me toward them - walking ahead of me - and before I wake up, I feel as though these people are welcoming me, embracing me.

Then, the next time I nod off, I see deer – a large group of them. I recognize one – the one I saw long ago through my window. They too lead me to these independent peoples. Again I feel as though the people are happy to see me.

Now I long to leave this place, but that is nearly impossible. A powerful spell prevents me from doing so; it sets the boundaries of my homeland. However, there still is hope. I will continue doing what I'm gifted at – disrupting spells. I doubt I can break the boundary, but I can lead the people into wanting to leave, as well. I can lead them out, and for the first time, I'll be appreciated.

Spells continue to fail, and most can't place their fingers on the reason. Soon I have a mob, eager to return to a life of manual labor. Even my parents join the group. We crowd around the ruling mansion and protest. However, not a single Watcher listens.

After many give up hope, a man approaches my home. He's a Watcher and bears some surprising news. Apparently, I was selected to become a Watcher, but wasn't notified because the current Watchers remained inside the mansion to correct a fault in a spell. Soon, I will have access to the Deep Magic that our nation is built upon, including the boundary spell.

All the secret incantations of this world are written in a single book – the Book of Foundations. Not only is it well hidden, but it can only be opened by a Watcher. Now holding that position, I have the power to break many spells, but not with the approval of others. I am still being trained for my duties, but I hold a private bedroom in the mansion. So, as I am used to doing in my home, I stealthily leave my bed one night. The powerful book is hidden within a false book in the library. I find it and begin thumbing through the pages, straining my eyes to see in the dim light. Finally, I discover what I'm looking for.

The incantation for the boundary spell's undoing is short, but must be read aloud. I seal myself in the dark library once I have memorized it, and begin the process. Once I finish, I search for an incantation to open the hidden gate in the mansion's marble fence. I heard an elderly Watcher speak it on the day I entered the mansion – but the words are lost to me. Once I have memorized it, I leave the mansion, speak it, and an opening forms in the marble. If I truly have lifted the boundary spell, I can finally live the life I've been dreaming of. If not, I still remember the verses.

I rush to my previous home. Through another incantation, I release my parents from their deep sleep and tell them of my plans. They follow me without hesitating. We walk straight into the wilderness and sleep a short distance away from the civilization we have abandoned.

In the morning, the barrier has once again been raised. We call to the good people still imprisoned within, and soon have a crowd prepared for a massive exodus. I once again break the barrier, and the mob comes flooding out. The independent families of laborers are both curious and ecstatic. They run to us as we approach and introduce themselves. Once we reach their homes, we are given a feast – full of pleasing but unfamiliar tastes.

I meet the old man from my dream. He says, “I always knew this glorious day would come.” The people accept me as family, and I think I finally know what “love” means. Before long, many more people flock to the plains, including the Watchers. The power of magic was waning even without my assistance, and all the people were forced out. Now, we all enjoy this simple lifestyle. I can't imagine there ever being people more excited than us to work the ground and observe our surroundings. Knowledge now presents itself to us, and learning is enjoyable.

After my coming, I swear I saw the very same deer that I observed through my window in the abandoned community. Even it seemed to bid me welcome. Now, the climate is growing colder. I believe I see snow falling.