Those who shield others often carry the weight of unseen battles.
Vengence
I was deep in a dream when I felt something—no, someone—poking at my arm.
"Shay, wake up!"
I groaned and rolled over, burying my face deeper into the pillow, hoping the voice would just vanish.
"Come on! I did it! I figured it out!" Rolo's voice, all too excited for this ungodly hour, broke through my sleepy haze. I kept my eyes closed, wishing that if I didn't respond, he'd go away. No such luck.
"Shay! Wake up! You've got to hear this!"
I sighed, heavy and frustrated, finally cracking open an eye. The first thing I saw was Rolo's grinning face hovering far too close. His eyes were gleaming with excitement, his energy practically bouncing off the walls of the room. Great.
"Rolo... it's morning. I'm not a morning person. Leave me alone," I mumbled, turning my face into the pillow again.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you're all unbearable after waking up," he said with zero regard for my obvious irritation. "But seriously, I decoded most of the documents! The ones about the Moonlight Casket!"
That got my attention.
I blinked, rolling over onto my back with a groan and rubbing my eyes. Rolo, unbothered by my reluctance, sat cross-legged on the edge of my bed, holding a pile of papers in his lap. "The time and place for the ritual. I cracked it!"
I sat up slowly, stretching my stiff muscles and trying to shake off the heavy haze of sleep. "Alright, alright. Show me."
Rolo immediately shoved a stack of notes into my hands, talking a mile a minute. "So, the ritual takes place under a specific phase of the moon, right? It's a casket that only opens when the lunar cycle hits its apex, and based on the lunar calendar, it happens in—"
"Rolo," I said, cutting him off mid-sentence, "focus."
He blinked, then grinned. "Right. It happens in just fifteen days. There's a forest near the city, about half a day's travel. That's where the ritual's going to happen."
I looked at the notes, processing what he'd found. Fifteen days. That gave us time, but not much.
"Good work," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face. Despite my grogginess, I was awake now. And Rolo's enthusiasm was starting to seep into me, pulling my mind into gear.
"Fifteen days," I repeated, mulling it over. "We won't be having much sleep in these two weeks, it seems."
"Well as you can see here..." and with that he was on it again, ranting about his findings.
He didn't seem bothered in the slightest that I was still shaking off the remnants of sleep or that I'd likely snapped at him when he first woke me up. He just chattered on, unstoppable once he was in motion.
I sighed, swinging my legs off the bed. "Alright, you are a genius," I said, getting up. "But next time, try not to be so cheerful before noon. It's exhausting."
Rolo just laughed and left.
As I shuffled into the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit me like a wave, instantly waking me up more than Rolo's chatter had. He was already seated at the table, a plate piled high with food and a notebook spread out before him.
"I'm telling you! I'm fucking brilliant!" Rolo exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, the rich taste warming my senses. "That's great, Rolo. But let's focus on breakfast first," I said, sitting down in front of my plate of eggs.
"I mean, how often do you get to discover an ancient ritual?" he continued, completely unfazed by my attempt at breakfast diplomacy. "And the way they phrase things, it's almost poetic! I think I might be getting better at this deciphering stuff. Alex even said I might have a knack for it!"
I chuckled. "Well, I hope your knack extends to actually getting food in your mouth before you spill all that excitement on it."
Rolo grinned widely, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Too late for that! Anyway, it's like the words are alive! They dance around the meanings, and I think—"
I cut him off, sensing a wave of distraction coming. "While you're busy entertaining the eggs, I need to send out some messages." I grabbed my phone, typing away furiously.
I shot off quick messages to Lil, Livius, and Mazen, informing them of our new findings and the looming ritual in fifteen days. Each time I sent a message, I could feel the weight of the impending situation settling on my shoulders.
Rolo kept talking, barely pausing for breath. Breakfast might have been the calm before the storm, but I welcomed the small moments of normalcy, even amidst the brewing chaos.
Just as I finished my last bite, my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen and saw Mazen's contact flashing. This was the first time he called me so it took me a moment to answer it.
"Mazen?" I said, confusion creeping into my voice.
Nothing but silence on the other end.
"Mazen, you there?" I pressed, glancing at Rolo, who had stopped mid-sentence, his mouth slightly agape as he leaned closer to listen. "Why did you call me if you don't want to talk?"
Finally, Mazen spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Are you joking with me?"
"No," I replied flatly, my brow furrowing. "Why would I joke about something like this?"
Rolo's eyes widened as the implication of the conversation began to dawn on him. He had been animatedly explaining the details of the ritual, but now he sat frozen, a mix of concern and understanding washing over his features.
"Shay," Mazen finally said, his tone serious. "The implications of this… it's not something we can just gloss over. If they're using the moonlight casket…"
"I know," I interrupted, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on my chest. "That's why I reached out to you, to alert you of what we've found. We need to act fast. How many dark mages are on our side?"
There was a brief pause on the line before he responded, "I've made significant headway. A lot of them see the value in aligning with us, especially with the threat of the moonlight casket looming over us."
I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see me. "That's good."
"Belizár has his own faction, and while I've been able to sway some of the mages away from him, his apprentices remain fiercely loyal. They're not going to turn against him easily," he added.
I leaned back in my chair. "I see. Let's hope this is enough," I said, my thoughts drifting to the looming threat ahead. "Keep me updated."
As I ended the call, my eyes scanned the screen and caught a flurry of missed calls and messages from Livius.
I quickly opened the messages, my fingers flying across the screen as I read through the urgent texts:
Sorcerer Lord-Not-So-Mighty: [Shay, where the hell are you? Answer me!!!]
Sorcerer Lord-Not-So-Mighty: [We need to talk NOW.]
Sorcerer Lord-Not-So-Mighty: [Stop ignoring me! I'm not joking around!]
I quickly composed a message, my fingers moving swiftly over the screen: [Livius, have you succeeded in gathering as many powerful white mages as possible? We need every ally we can get for what's coming.]
I hit send and barely had time to set the phone down before Livius's response pinged back almost instantly.
Sorcerer Lord-Not-So-Mighty: [I've been working on it, but it's not easy. Some are reluctant to join forces with you given the recent chaos. They fear being caught in the crossfire.]
I frowned at the screen, frustration bubbling up. I knew Livius had a way with the mages; he just needed to be more persuasive.
[We don't have the luxury of time. Remind them what's at stake.]
Sorcerer Lord-Not-So-Mighty: [I know]
That was all he said.
I took a deep breath, my mind racing as I turned to Alex and Rolo. "I want you both to go to Luna and the gypsies. Get them prepared. I'll need the empath's help."
Alex nodded, already moving toward the door, his demeanor shifting to one of determination. "Come on, Rolo."
As they hurried out, an unsettling feeling settled in my gut. I waited for Lil's reply. She had always been prompt, and her silence gnawed at me like an ominous warning.
"Simon," I said quietly. "I need you to check on Lil."
But instead of answering, Simon took a step closer and gently grabbed my wrist, his icy fingers sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes locked onto mine, intense and focused. A moment later, I found myself drawn into a vivid memory, his presence pulling me into a moment frozen in time.
The apprentice mage lay sprawled on the ground, his face marred by bruises and a fat trail of blood cascading from his split lips to his chin. Even in such a battered state, he possessed an unsettling allure. As he drew a shaky breath, his shapely lips parted in an unconscious invitation. His blue eyes held a depth as dark and terrifying as the sea, drawing the gaze of anyone who dared to meet his sapphire stare. His golden, wavy hair shimmered like silk, tempting fingers to reach out and touch it. The pallor of his skin, as white as marble, contrasted starkly with the vivid crimson of his blood, creating an irresistible urge to feel its coolness under one's fingertips.
With the spell that had suppressed his abilities finally broken, the apprentice took control of the mages surrounding him. Like moths to a flame, the dark mages, regardless of gender, surged toward the boy, their hunger palpable. Panic surged within him as he clawed at the ground, desperately crawling away from the mindless throng. Their ravenous gazes resembled that of starving beasts, and the apprentice's face twisted in horror.
Suddenly, one of the mages lunged, ripping at the boy's shirt, sending buttons flying. But in the next moment, the man was sent hurtling backward, colliding with the ground several meters away. The other mages followed suit, collapsing in unison. Their limbs trembled as they clawed at the concrete, but all they achieved was to break their fingernails and leave bloody streaks behind. Their bodies contorted and twitched as if gripped by some unimaginable agony. Tears streamed down their faces, and their lips parted in silent screams, releasing only a mixture of moans and grunts. The air grew thick and heavy with a sweet, spicy scent, transforming the once-vibrant scene into a tableau of writhing bodies, reduced to moaning, quivering heaps.
"M... Master," the apprentice mage whimpered, glancing up at the lust mage beside him.
Violan looked down at him, perhaps using magic to ease the boy's pain, for the apprentice's limbs gradually relaxed. With a weary sigh, he felt Violan's cloak wrap around him like a protective shield. Then Violan stood tall, surveying the mages sprawled on the ground with a contemptuous glare. In his eyes burned a fire capable of scorching both body and soul. Some mages cried out in delight, while others begged for mercy, but Violan offered them no reprieve.
With a slow, almost predatory grace, he approached the mage who had torn the boy's shirt. "You dare touch my apprentice with those hands?" he asked, his voice smooth and enticing, devoid of any trace of anger.
Even in his fury, every word dripped with silkiness and seduction. The man looked up, fear etched into his features, mumbling an apology. Violan crouched beside him, running a delicate finger along his arm as if petting a fragile creature. The mage gasped, his back arching in reaction to Violan's touch. The laughter that escaped Violan's lips was cruel yet enchanting, reminiscent of angelic giggles dancing in the air.
"Did you look at my apprentice with those eyes?" he asked again, his fingers trailing over the man's face, a caress that felt both tender and terrifying.
The mage opened his mouth to scream, but the sound faded as his eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp.
"Oh," Violan remarked, a hint of surprise mingling with regret in his tone.
I knew well that Violan would relish the opportunity to toy with the man. He harbored a deep-seated hatred for those who preyed on his beloved apprentices, and he showed them no mercy.
I had always thought this was rooted in Violan's own past experiences. He took every single lust mage under his wing, determined that they would never endure the same torment he had faced. Yet, beneath that fiery exterior, there was a heartbreaking loneliness to him. He bore the weight of a heavy burden on his narrow shoulders but carried it with pride.
At last, he sighed and stood amidst the weeping, moaning, and screaming mages, looking like an angel amidst the chaos of hell. He returned to the apprentice and, with utmost care—as if fearing he might crush the boy with a single movement—helped him to his feet. But the apprentice mage weakly fell on his master's shoulder. The sight was peculiar, especially as the boy appeared taller and heavier than his master. Still, Violan didn't mind; he smiled gently and patted the boy's back with reassuring tenderness, saving his softest smiles for his little apprentices.
"It's all right, it's all right," he murmured, his voice soothing enough to calm even the most fragile heart.
"I will protect you from everything," he continued, stroking the boy's hair, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and safety.
The apprentice nodded, finding solace in Violan's presence. In that moment, as he comforted the apprentice, it felt as though two distinct figures existed within him: the dreaded lust age, loathed and hunted by others, and the master, revered and adored by his loyal apprentices. One was a demon, delighting in the torment of others, while the other was an angel, enveloping those he cherished in warmth and affection.
Yet, if you asked me, Violan was simply a human—a man who suffered a lot, yet still managed to show caring kindness to others. And I believed that was the most special and beautiful thing about him.
After watching the memory unfold, I turned to Simon. "Well, it seems Violan wiped out a significant chunk of the dark mages allied with Belizár. That's one way to reshape the playing field."
Simon nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of the revelation. The tension in the air was palpable as we considered the shifting dynamics of our world.