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Leo POV
The ceiling now a deep blue or perhaps light green, this deja vu feeling is getting out of hand.
The roof seemed to wave and wobble, its blue and green grandness turned into a sea of color, waving in and out pushing past each other, as if to move the ceiling. Each color turns to the other, each movement hushes the last, the waves crash against each other forming teal, this new wave of teal devours the others spreading its corruptive disease, the room's splendor slowly turns into consistent teal. There was nothing to it now, the world was just that, the "world" nice and relatable, nice and bland. The remembrance of this beautiful sight vanished, with the sound of an unfamiliar voice.
"Raphael?" The old man asked in an old weathered tone.
"Raphael?" I asked.
The old man's face stiffens.
"Nevermind that, I'm Markess, no, sorry these memories are jumbled in my head, my name is Grant, Grant Baker if I'm remembering this right."
"Remember?" I ask.
"Oh yes, I recently awakened, and as you can tell my head is a little crooked." He said in an up right tone, that sounded almost young, completely contrasting his old weathered face.
"No that's not right, for one's first awakening you only get a small memory, kind of plastered on to your mind, not well mixing with it, which means you have had your second awakening." I weirdly inform.
When I was a kid I researched this with some dream of awakening.
"Sorry, but this is the first…" He stuttered off mid sentence, his eyes chased around the room as if to catch something. "Time," he continues as if he never stopped, "awakening."
Awakening work's in stages, in stage one, one glimpses the other world, in stage two, one's mind starts to become one with the memories, this happens when someone comes close to reaching the same power as the one from the memories. Stage three, is when one's memories overlap and become whole, this happens when you reach the same level as the one's who's memories you've received. To my knowledge no one knows if it's some kind of past life, or something else.
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His eyes grabbed on to something, settling on the window, however it didn't appear he was looking out the window, but to some far off land. His lips twitched, his eyes flickered. Within those dead green eyes crimson serges followed, painting them. His brows arched, his nose buckled. fury painfully flushes his being, rage pushes past his will into his rugged breathing. A fragment of his magic power bursts out, his hair flys, the room echoes his fury, the blankets slam against the wall, Leo falls with them.
"Achra monoka tong cha." Magic grew in his hand, fire circles around itself, the bewitching sphere of burning fire, its glory surpasses the divine. Its power threatens to burn Leo's hair, its fury wishes to devour the world whole, its demanding prowess pushes to shoot out of Grant's control, however it charges, it grows. " Die 'mwtai hamya' you demon bastard."
The magic darts faster than a bullet, pushes faster than sound, its mere shock-wave flattens small trees, it smashes deep into a gigantic boulder, the magic with no restraints left to hold it together explodes sending shards of stone in every direction, its blast shook the whole house the foundations desired to fall from its frame. Where the boulder was, only ash remains.
"Grant," Leo hesitates, "are you okay?"
"You, how did you get here?" Markess paused. "The demon king is dead, it's done, if you've come to help then you're too late." He starts to sob. "It's done." He laughed. "My friends are dead, the expedition squad is destroyed, there no more. I'm the last, wouldn't the king get a kick out of this his slaves, his measly soldiers, accomplished something his knights couldn't. Here I stand the grand mage known for my over willming fire, the scarlet crimson mage, not even an arch-mage, no me a grand mage, I killed the demon king. Markess hammer, king of fire, lord of crimson, may my name be put into history, may my grandness live forever, may my, my comrades be put in front of my legacy those who killed the demon king. You boy, spread the name of the iron company, we who stand stronger than iron, harder than steel, and sharper than obsidian. The grand Iron company, the one that I may not be worthy, that I may not deserve, I shall rebuild it no matter what."
Grant's rickady frame turns anew, Markess stands strong, his feet planted so firmly on the earth that it looked as though the gods themselves couldn't force him to take a step. His fearless demeanor, oddly seemed to know all the fear in the world, Grant's hair turned from its natural gray to a stunning crimson.
"hór ano cháui pái kha tei ano nok hai khe kwrak khlai kha." Fire surrounds him dawning Markess in a gorgeous red flame, his wizard hood, his scarlet cloak, his face hidden in a mask of fire. Strangely the blazing clothes did not burn.
"Spread our name, the Iron." Before he could even finish his sentence, Markess fell face first onto the floor.
Although the meeting was brief, his intimidation sent Leo shaking at his heels, for just a moment so brief that it's easy to forget, just for a second It felt like he was staring death in the eyes.
With an exasperated laugh Leo set Grant onto the bed that he moments earlier once laid.
***
In a distant land, witch really isn't that distant at all, a legend of a monster is about to be born, right now it is nothing, but for those in the know, which is only the dead, they would know it's an evolving monster, it's name known by few is the ghostly hexwolf. To this beast it's name meant nothing for he took himself a human name Kenneth. He chose to become strong, so strong that no one will be able to defeat him.
The monster looks off into the air, appealingly at nothing, but to him sits a translucent window, that may be familiar if you've played video games, in it states his stats, and an evolution tree. For ancient mages it wouldn't be too much of a shock, it's not so much magic, but someone's outside influence. What this figure intends to influence, is beyond one's imagination. Currently, there's a man hunting Kenneth, but he won't be named because he will soon be found dead. However, what events that come from this influential man dying is yet to be seen.
***
Back in Grant's house.
I sit before his bed, my legs weak. Grant opens his eyes, or was it Markess, he stumbled out a word before falling fastly back into his ghastly sleep.
"Boy?"
Within his slumber, feats of rage fills his being, with in sequenced intervals magic is released from him, each witch's strength is less than the last. He whispers another word.
"Who?"
His face scrunches like a beanbag, as if to hold back all the pain of the world. He whispers again.
"Am?"
It was obvious what was gonna come out of his mouth next. He whispered the final word completing the puzzle.
"I?"