The Wielder of Death Magic

A single strand of hair buckled, “-no?” came a sarcastic expression,” -that’s why you and I are here, hello, are you right in the head, sir?”

“You little pes-” the door widened, “-let the man go,” came a supervising officer.

“Has yet paid his fee.”

“Don’t worry about the fee,” narrowed the officer, “-we’ll discuss the incident at a later date,” the compressed expression – more on the lines of harshly knitted brows, released at Igna’s sight, “-if you would follow me,” came a similarly subdued tone.

The chaos of entry and departure faded in the way distance. The officer, a man of rather strong build, waited underneath foliage parked alongside walkways.

“Explain?”

.....

“My lord, you should be more careful. It’s hard enough to keep track of so much. Without warning from the castle, our predicament might have escalated direly. I heard much from Formle – lady Violetta is at her estate far north.”

“What about the situation inside?”

“My lord, best leave said disturbance to us, please?”

“Fine,” the wings shrieked, “-I’m not very accustomed to the ever-evolving ways of the Shadows. Send my compliments to the workers, especially the lass who pressed my patience. She deserved praise for the unwavering attitude.”

“I will. My lord, if it’s not too much concern, I would rather you keep to the walkways. Flight zones above are reserved for transit, we wouldn’t want any incidents perturbing our balance.”

He sheathed his wings, tapped his legs, and cracked his fingers. “Suppose I ought to take the scenic route.” Romadian island didn’t disappoint. Any feeling of urgency to Eira’s troubles seemed nothing more than a little inconvenience. ‘People here worship the Watcher and the four generals. I shouted and nothing happened, even the officer, he didn’t once bat an eye at the intensity of my lingering aura. Residents of the shadows don’t take no for an answer, they’re true to their hearts. Such conviction is the only product of fantasy... how poetic. I set about creating a utopia, the latter crafted itself into a far better realm. People make a house a home, and here, the population made the land into theirs. They shaped society and are adept at managing on their own. A self-ruling kingdom – the ideal Rosespire of Hidros.’ Romadian, aside from the romantic and pure-hearted affection, carried another side, one made apparent on the walk north. ‘The air is pure,’ he breathed, finally settling into the island’s own atmosphere, ‘-serenity and peace. A sense of driftyness from one’s own mind. Escaping one’s own thoughts; it’s amazing.’ He said it best, and visitors caught on; many spent their times under the shades of beautifully grown trees on a seat made of soft grass, “-I feel at peace.”

A moment’s respace was only but a moment’s respace. After the bench warming couples and meditating mindful individuals, the pathway opened to less nature and more angular houses – soft on the eyes and easy on the surroundings.

‘A village,’ he walked through the center, passing a well around which many children of non-human features, flapped their wings and threw spells. Fireballs, snowballs, lightning surge, the basics of the basics. A stray ball flung passed his face and burnt a single hair. The recognizable smell drifted, “-sorry,” waved the child, “-didn’t mean to send the magic your way,” to which they ran back to their mischievous games. He spurred on.

“Strong,” mumbled audibly, he’d passed the village and entered a denser thicket, “-those kids were using spells that’d count as mid to high tier if ranked. To think they’re only kids, living in the more unstabilized parts of the Shadows. I shouldn’t be surprised,” a few shakes of the head, “-I knew the risks when embarking onto this journey. The faster the horse, the stronger the leash. If the balance falls, even mildly, there could be unrepairable damage done,” big protruding walls broadened.

“Violetta estate,” read a bronze plate. The image of a vampiric castle would be wrongly associated with said particular building. It wasn’t big nor overwhelming – the walls were tall but only to one’s shoulder. Glancing over was Childsplay for a man of average size could tiptoe and see what he sought. Altars and strange statures took the forefront, symbology, and meaning following the Violitian Sect, or else an organization dedicated to the study of witchcraft. Orin had its own version – to put it simply, the symbology was linked to the Weaver of Destiny, Violetta. Her own barrier domed over the estate, and the forest’s animosity grew at the intruder – humble shades turned eerie patches of darkness, the kind one experience whilst walking down a dark alley or into an abandoned building. Igna took his stand and pressed, arriving at the gates and bellowed three loud crashes.

The forest rang, “-kicking the gates might not have been a good idea,” the scraped mess of his leather shoes stared back blankly, almost with a sort of disappointing sigh. The main entrance opened followed by an equally loud, “-WHAT?”

“Here to meet Violetta.”

“Not here, come back another day.”

He lunged, formed a fist, and shattered the barrier, ancient symbols of power dimmed, “-won’t take no for an answer,” he glared at the attendant, who, with a brief motion, parted her purple hair and tilted her head, “-it’s you.”

“Can say the same thing about you,” Igna returned smugly, “-I broke the barrier,” he flicked a rather old lock and entered, “-I’ll let myself in.” The attendant’s widen gaze waited patiently, she blocked the doorway with crossed arms, “-long time no see, Angela. Good to see you doing so well.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” her focus loomed at the shattered barrier, “-why?”

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”

“Obviously I would,” her voice felt strange – discrepancies he immediately locked and went into investigative mode. ‘Blocked doorway, shattered barrier, lack of response save a loud scream. Not like someone who knows’ reaction,’ he took another step, this time climbing the stair, “-no!” came a resolute Angela, “-my lady Violetta’s not feeling we-” before she finished, he pivoted on the same foot and dashed for a window. ‘-got her,’ he smiled, she jumped after trying to block his view – alas, in the same motion of seemingly heading to the window, he spun and sprinted inside.

“I win,” he stopped, “-don’t lie, Angela, what happened to the Weaver of Destiny?”

“Whatever,” she closed the door and ambled upward, “-what, not going to follow?” she jabbed once in the middle of the stairs, “-come on then, unwanted guest.”

The outline of a lady rocking back and forth lit in the translucent reflection of a circular window. Her motion cast a massive shadow along the back – a thin veil of dust covered some part of the area – there were signs of inoccupation. The frigid figure swayed constantly. The closer they approached, the thinner grew the apparition. Violetta’s wrinkled visage was paler and strenuous, her cheeks were hallowed and a horrified expression froze her face still.

“She’s dead?”

“I don’t know,” Angela passed Igna and cupped the Weaver’s wrinkled long fingers, “-when I call mistress’ name, her eyes spark for the smallest of seconds. Might be my imagination... I found her here before you ask. No idea when or how – my duties were mostly to help out at the shop... seeing her popularity, mistress decided to live in relative quietness here in Romadian. The move was worth it?” they watched, thinking about what might have caused the freeze, “-why did you come, Igna?”

“Angela, tell me,” he summoned two seats from nowhere and faced the white outline, “-what were you thinking?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a sort of disease, I mean, snakes have to shed, maybe tis mistress’ way of shedding?”

“Ever the optimist.”

“Why the visit?”

“My sister,” he turned, “-I’m here to heal my sister. I needed Violetta’s foresight to see what I need,” the smile turned sinister as he faced Angela, ‘-you can’t fool me. How long will the mind games play out, Violetta, let’s see how much you can endure.’ The expression had quite the entertaining look on Angela, her long ears wiggled.

“Violetta’s gone,” he stood, grabbed her collar, and pulled, exposing her collar bone under which laid her symbol of power, “-looks interesting,” he summoned a few symbols of his own, “-I heard it mentioned in the Deishik record, symbols of dead or immobile entities can be taken by anyone who wields a particular spell. One lost to the ages, the ancient arts of Mystian, falling under the authority of the great-god Grostian of the VIth Fall, by calling his name and shredding the symbol from the target, one can simply assimilate their powers and make it their own. Hurry up,” he glanced over his shoulder, “-Angela, bring me a knife.”

The floorboard creaked, the glimmer of a blade and its shadow took the vacant attic, “-bad idea,” she struck and broke the weapon, Death’s pentagram vividly ambered, “-killing Death is pointless,” he rose, shrouding the room in a darkened mist of pure dread, “-I say with my chest, Angela, you’ve sin for undermining my powers,” the shattered blade hovered in a circle around her neck, “-I’m fair and try to not come across as hypocritical. I don’t mind using another identity to get what one wants – the fear of revealing a secret should be on your account, not mine. You were foolish to assume, Angela, or should I say, reincarnation of Violetta,” her trapped body faded and reappeared behind with another blade pressed against Igna’s neck, “-as the prophecy said, you must be eliminated, Igna, you can’t be allowed to become one. Three must never be one, you have to die, I’m sorry.”

“The one who sees all is confident,” he exhaled, “-I command the efforts, Violetta, however, I must apologize,” a warm sensation bellowed as a knife struck forth, blood dripped, “-you shouldn’t underestimate the one who made the realm,” a knife was indeed struck – the victim fell, and it was Angela who dropped on her knees with a scream. The inanimate body of Violetta remained in a stabbing motion.

“Shall I consider this a suicide?” he laughed, “-get it, because you stabbed yourself, literally?”

She tipped and fell on her side, shrieking as the pain intensified, “-the knife is a relic,” he examined Violetta, “-bronze blade hails from the Hephaestus’ workshop. Ah, the influence of Zeus tainted my humble abode. Violetta, why did you fake your death?”

“...”

She but suffered, her muffled cries and teary eyes were a sight to behold, “-we met so long ago, I said I wasn’t your enemy and that I didn’t take your sight... seems you regained them and were not happy about the conditions. Let me guess, Lucifer added the condition that I must be slain for the sight to remain.”

“...”

“I’ll take that as confirmation. Should have known such a worthless plot wouldn’t have helped. I heard Violetta gave readings to those who purchased her clothes, from what it seemed, the shop is popular and people are more excited to come than before. Rationale leads to a simple conclusion, you couldn’t have died since they validate her presence,” he loomed over, waiting for any response but got none.

“Weaver of Destiny,” he knelt, “-far as I’m concerned, whatever deal you made will be nullified. The demons won’t return your sight – there’s more and I wish I knew. Why look far when the answer is here,” he smiled, “-I am Igna Haggard, the Watcher of the Shadow Realm and the one feared as Nothing.”