A friend in need is a friend indeed.
Spiderweb
The three hooded figures appeared out of nowhere in front of the friendly house. They did not expect anyone to be waiting for them. The woman leaned against the fence, her eyes lazily raised to the mages. The scar on her face was instantly recognizable.
"What are you doing here?" one of the mages asked in a disgusted tone.
"What it looks like," Lilinette shrugged, "I'm preventing you from slaughtering innocent people."
One of the mages muttered his most powerful spell without hesitation, but his magic seemed to have no effect on the legendary mage. Lilinette merely gave him a scowl. The men fell to the ground and ly there motionless.
Lilinette, like most powerful mages, trusted her strength. She was no longer afraid, no longer fearful of anything, and for that very reason, she was prone to miscalculation. Like everyone else, she realized her mistake too late.
"More disgusting than your face is your arrogance, Myriad."
Lilinette noticed the presence of the man before he spoke. Slowly, she turned to the last hooded man, who was holding his dagger to the throat of a young woman. Lilinette hissed. They knew exactly how to corner her: the woman was pregnant.
But preditors when cornered, attack. And Lilinette had long since transcended the limits nature had set for mages. She didn't need a magic spell, just the thought of it and she could make it happen. The knife fell from the fourth mage's hand and he fell unconscious to the ground. Meanwhile, the sobbing woman curled up and fell to her knees, one hand clutching her round belly.
"Something's happening to my baby!" she cried.
Lilinette immediately ran to her. She was afraid that the dark mages had done something to her, or that the stress triggered premature birth. She was about to start examining her when she felt a pain in her side like nothing she had ever felt before.
The woman smirked at her, her eyes gleaming with madness as she savored Lilinette's anguished expression. Lilinette understood the perilous implications—if the woman withdrew the dagger, she would bleed out in minutes. She grabbed the blade and gave the mage a slap so hard it made even her dizzy. She took her chance and jumped back. She glanced down at the dagger and all the colour drained from her face. The dark mage laughed.
"A seraph blade can kill even you!" she grinned.
A matchbox appeared in Lilinette's hand and a match in the other. With a quick movement, she drew the match along the side of the box, but a moment later the flame was blown out. The smoke from the match slowly wafted in the air.
The dark mage immediately clutched at her throat and began to choke. Lilinette watched her writhe with her mouth wide open for a moment, then sighed as she broke the spell. Lil had killed women and men over the years, but never a child.
The dark mage glanced up at the woman with frightened eyes, then reached into the man's clothes beside her, and a moment later they were both gone. The other three mages lay on the ground, still unconscious. Lilinette was not in a good mood, and although she knew she should conserve her strength, she took three more strands from the matchbox and lit them in one swift motion.
This time she did not blow them out, but simply let them fall to the ground. The three mages were ignited in the blink of an eye, and the huge reddish flames consumed all traces of their existence in an instant. Lilinette knew she was dying—she mustered all her remaining strength for one last spell.
Mazen gazed out at the landscape when two mages entered the grand hall. The man tenderly stroked the woman's back as she coughed.
"What happened?" Mazen turned his attention to them.
The dark mage looked up at him. "Myriad attacked us, my Lord."
Mazen raised an eyebrow, silently questioning how they had survived.
"We dealt her a serious blow," the other mage declared proudly. She let out a manic laugh. "I stabbed her with a seraph blade!" she exclaimed brightly.
"What have you done?" Mazen replied ominously.
The man sensed the dangerous undertone in Mazen's voice and tensed.
"My Lord," he whispered urgently.
Mazen said nothing, stepping toward them. The man recoiled in fear, and Mazen seized the woman by the neck, lifting her to eye level.
"Lilinette would not perish at the hands of vermin like you," Mazen stated.
"My Lord," the man interjected sharply, then pleaded, "My Lord, spare her, I beg you! She carries my child!"
Mazen turned to the other mage, a wicked smile crossing his face. "Your turn will come soon enough."
Feeling unusually merciful, Mazen dispatched both servants to the afterlife after a brief fifteen-minute ordeal. While he believed they deserved harsher punishment, he grew quickly bored of torturing them, a trait well-known to his followers.
All the members of his coven, and indeed masters of the Shadow Circle, knew that Mazen was far from good company when he was bored. His henchmen would leave the Dark Mansion, knowing full well that the man's more and more creative ideas would end with disastrous results, if not for the world, then for the fate of some of his henchmen.
In his experiments, which usually involved the creation of new curses, stronger and stronger, he sought the assistance of his more useless servants—at least with the testing. Although the members of the Shadow Circle did not look kindly on this, they did not interfere, both because the victims were Mazen's own people and because they knew him to be sometimes irrational and unpredictable. Of the seven members of the Shadow Circle, he was rightly considered the cruelest and darkest of the mages, and no one could deny that even his own allies were frightened when he was angered.
Mazen was terribly bored. Life, once you reach a certain level of power, becomes very boring. There are no more limits, no more struggles. He sighed deeply. It had been a while since anyone had stood up to Mazen to give him a bit of entertainment—the man felt like he'd been starving for a good battle for ages.
He paced the dark walls of the mansion, bored, wondering why he couldn't go to destroy the nearest human-inhabited town and test his assorted curses on a small group of unmagicals. He sighed—he would find some joy in hunting down even the madly running human bastards.
The Shadow Circle called a meeting last week, where it was voted that until one of them— who would undoubtedly be Mazen—was sitting on the throne, they would not move. Those fucking cowards! They were simply afraid of reprisals from the Sorcerer Lord and his handful of "less dark" mages.
He sighed deeply. Had it not been for the secret vote, he would surely have methodically hunted down the cowards...
Mazen sometimes wished he could go back to the past—at least he wasn't bored then. He couldn't remember any of his parents—he'd been living on the streets for a while, alone and self-reliant.
He had some strange abilities. At first, he thought everyone had them—then, when he found out otherwise, he realized he was different from other people. Just as he realized that he had to hide it—he had to protect this secret.
He watched with a glassy gaze as the two uniformed men dragged the body behind them. Her clothes were dirty with dust and sticky with blood. There was a witch hunt in Spain at the time, and in the tiny village where Mazen lived.
Of course, humans usually killed their own instead of the real mages. But as the piles of the dead grew larger, a real mage was discovered. Mazen was there the day the man revealed himself—he had saved a dying man, and for that, he had died. The mage's family was wiped off the face of the earth without mercy.
After that, anyone who looked the least bit suspicious was sentenced to death without trial, explanation, or hesitation. Some were hanged, the unfortunate ones were burned or drowned, but most were beaten to death by the vengeful villagers. Mazen thought it was hell on Earth.
That woman... was innocent—Mazen had discovered over time that he could sense the presence of those having similar power to his. There was not even a little magic in her, yet they plunged the knife into her breast without a second thought.
Even half a year later... Mazen lived with the memory of that day. He lived his life as if he were normal, as if he were one of the humans while wondering why this world existed. He starved while the nobles bathed in milk. The wind blew through the slits in his torn, dirty clothes while the nobles wore the finest fabrics. Why is this world so cruel? Who decides who lives and who dies? Who decides which race is superior to the other and on what basis?
Mazen was running for his life. His throat was scratching, the air around him seemed too thin, and he was almost suffocating. His legs were as heavy as lead, yet he never stopped for a moment—that was when he learned that running for your life is the fastest way to run.
Life is not about the law of survival. Prey are not devoured because they are weak—far from it, they may possess power like no other. Their downfall is simple: they are few in number. The masses will always overcome the outcasts—because even the strongest will break when faced with the mad mob. Separated, the strong become the prey.
It all happened in an instant. The two men collapsed to the ground—she didn't even have to touch them, they simply fainted. Mazen wondered if the mere presence of the hooded figure might have been enough to do this, or if she had used magic.
Mazen froze, he had never felt such a presence in his life. If this presence was hostile, it could and would crush him—yet for now it examined him with cautious, gentle probing. Her magic, like invisible hands, stroked over his skin, familiarizing itself with Mazen's essence. The hooded one seemed so powerful that Mazen believed she could change the world.
"Come with me," she held out her hand, and her voice seemed to hypnotize the boy.
Mazen didn't even notice that he had moved and he accepted it. Under the hood, he could see pale pink lips and part of a scar running down her cheek. The stranger smiled encouragingly as her caramel brown eyes flashed with such gentle kindness in the darkness of the hood that Mazen was no longer in doubt.
"I am Lilinette," she announced. "A mage just like you."
Mazen wanted to reply, but she shook her head. "No, don't tell me your real name. This is your first lesson. Remember, a name is power. Never tell anyone the name you were given at birth!"
The stranger pondered. "I think it is my duty as your future master to give you a new name. Let it be... Mazen!"
"Mazen?" the boy repeated, savouring his new name.
She threw her hood over her shoulders, leaned down, and hugged him tightly. "Welcome to my family, Mazen."
Lilinette then took him to a secret place, to a completely different country, where sixty-three other members of her family were waiting for him.
At that time, Mazen had specific goals, and the mysterious woman gave him new dreams. He remembered all the training, all the blood and sweat that had granted him his strength. One day he would be king. The greatest king ever... and he's going to make everything right! One day... he repeated these words almost as a mantra.
Until the day Lil disappeared from his life. After that, the dreams faded and were no longer really important. Although there was a faint hope that if he could change the world, if he could create a new one, he might be able to enjoy her company again. That hope had faded over the decades. Nowadays, Mazen no longer chased the childish daydreams from that time with the same fervor, the only thing that remained was a hatred of unmagical people.
(...)
I was fully aware that Rolo had been snooping. Not only did he have the audacity to sneak into my room, but sometimes he even dared to follow me—though that attempt was futile. No one can eavesdrop on me.
The last straw was when he brought up my research on the serial killer in front of Alex. I thought I was going to kill the little gremlin, but instead, I just ignored him for now. Eventually, when Alex sided with Rolo in the interrogation, I conceded defeat—which consisted of storming out of the living room, slamming the door behind me, and setting out to murder some unlucky bastards.
Needless to say, my perfectly laid plans for the evening were thwarted. I was trudging along in the most despondent mood possible when I heard a muffled squeak. I turned, half-expecting to find my first victim, but no such luck; the mage was already sprawled half-dead on the asphalt.
I sighed but approached her nonetheless—she still owed me a life debt, so I simply couldn't let her die. Immediately, I noticed the old ornate dagger protruding from her side. She must have sensed my attention because she hissed.
"Don't pull it out or I'll bleed out!"
I gave her a scornful look—she was bleeding to death regardless.
"So, how do you want to stay alive then?", I inquired, "Can't you just heal yourself?"
"It's a seraph blade," she said painfully, "No mage can heal this wound."
She said that as if I was supposed to understand all of this.
"So, you came to say goodbye?", I asked sarcastically.
She suddenly coughed up blood, and I was in no mood to joke any more.
"I have to tell you a few more things..." she whispered hoarsely. "I can't die..."
"I think I might be able to save you, but if I'm wrong, you'll be dead in minutes," I declared.
Lilinette weakly glanced up at me, lacking the strength to say more. I tore a piece off my shirt and stuffed it into her mouth. With a decisive, albeit cruel movement, I yanked the dagger from her side. Lilinette screamed and convulsed, but I paid it no mind—I had to act swiftly. Cutting my palm, I let drops of blood fall onto her wound. Realizing the wound was closing too quickly, I left the seraph blade embedded within it.
Lilinette spat out the cloth scrap.
"Will this help?" she breathed, her voice feeble.
"Unless you've got feline blood in your lineage," I replied dryly.
It took a few minutes for the wound to begin shrinking—a testament to the potent magic surrounding the dagger. In any case, even if this part of 'P' Street wasn't frequented by humans, it had its dangers, so I lifted the slowly blinking mage in my arms. I figured the recovery would take a lot out of her, so I headed for the pub.
Hajnal didn't ask me any questions, just sighed and waved me toward her office. I nodded my thanks and carefully laid her down on Hajnal's couch. The wound still hadn't closed properly, so I made another cut on my hand and pressed my palm against the mage's side. Suddenly I found myself staring at her face. I shook my head. Surely it was just exhaustion and loss of blood.
(...)
Lilinette blinked slowly at the delicate face. Clearly, she had planned to make a swift exit— the only flaw in her plan was that she was lying inside, which made it difficult to get things done. She shifted slightly, enough to test her weight against the monster lying beside her. That small movement was all it took to stir me awake.
My eyes almost popped open. During the moment I assessed the situation, my eyes darted wildly. I vaguely recalled drifting off at some point. Then I remembered the presence of a very annoying woman. My eyes finally settled on Lilinette's face. Her expression was a mixture of fright and a faint blush. But I didn't really care. I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. I pushed her away abruptly. Lilinette tumbled—without any grace—over the armrest and fell to the ground, but she sprang up almost immediately.
"What was that for, you brute?" she raged.
Meanwhile, I sat up and stretched leisurely. Running a hand through my hair, I finally looked down at her.
"What were you thinking?" I asked casually. "Trying to seduce me?"
"You wish!" she retorted.
Leaning forward, I flashed her a predatory grin. "What now? You owe me two lives."
Lilinette hissed under her breath, her fingers twitching like she was resisting the urge to stab me.
"Here's the deal," I stated firmly.
"What's the catch?" she interjected, suspicion laced through her voice.
"There is no catch." I sighed, rolling the cool metal of my pendant between my fingers. "Help me out, and I'll consider one of your debts cleared."
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you need help with?"
"They're framing me," I said simply.
Lilinette's pupils dilated slightly. "So they've escalated…" she muttered, half to herself.
"No, not yet," I corrected, "but they're planning to."
She studied me for a beat, then tilted her head. "Why not just prove the kid couldn't have been the killer?"
I pushed her presence out of my mind—roughly. She jerked back, startled. That reaction told me everything. I hadn't even noticed her lingering touch in my consciousness until she asked the question, too carefully, too precisely.
"I'm not giving him up." My voice was cold, unyielding. "I have a strong suspicion about what they'd do to him, and I won't be the one to hand him over."
Lilinette's lips parted slightly before she shut her mouth, reevaluating me. "You want me to help you escape?"
"No," I shook my head. "I want you to keep my famiglia safe. Those idiots are going to come after me. Alex and Rolo can't cooperate for shit; they'd run off on separate ventures. I'll make sure they stay together, but even then… I don't know if they'll survive this."
Her gaze flickered with something unreadable. "And you?"
I smirked. "Isn't it obvious? They'll catch me. Their plan will work. I'll be separated from them."
Lilinette didn't like that answer. I could see it in the way she clenched her jaw. "You figured it out," she murmured, searching my face, frustrated that she couldn't read my thoughts.
"The whole game is to keep me isolated," I said.
"Lone wolves are easy prey," she pointed out.
"Good thing I'm not a wolf." I shrugged.
Lilinette exhaled sharply, then leaned in. "One thing you should know—Mazen has a special ability. He can manipulate memories."
A muscle in my jaw twitched. That was… unpleasant information.
She continued, her voice taut. "Mazen is a master of the mind. He can enter your consciousness, see, alter, or erase memories. A single cut is enough for him to insert himself into someone's past."
"Hm." I tapped my fingers against the table, processing.
"There are two weaknesses," she added. "If he cuts his opponent a second time, the manipulation breaks. And he can't use the technique on the same person twice."
"So if he just scratches me, it's over," I mused.
Lilinette nodded, then hesitated. "That's not all."
I lifted an eyebrow.
"Mazen doesn't just want to beat you." Her lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "He wants to play with you first."
I stilled.
"If an enemy is worth fighting," she said, tilting her head, "then they're worth keeping around. And Mazen… he wants you to be his."
"I have no choice but to play along," I admitted, my voice calm despite the weight of my words. "I'm already ensnared in his web."
Lilinette's expression darkened. "And how exactly do you plan to reclaim your memories? The moment you're marked, you won't remember any of this conversation!" Her voice was sharp, edged with frustration. "Mazen will twist your mind, bend your will—he'll make you hurt the person you care about most. If they stand in his way, he'll turn you into their executioner!"
"And that's where you come in," I countered smoothly, locking eyes with her.
She stared at me like I was a madman. "You're insane."
I grinned, unbothered. "I know. But if I weren't at least a little crazy, I wouldn't have survived this long."