Daron trailed Laurence through the Magistrate's bustling corridors, walking on the stark white marble floors. Exiting the elevator, the air grew cooler as they neared the exit.
Laurence moved with easy confidence, his long strides eating up the distance. He flashed a quick grin over his shoulder. "Keeping up alright back there?"
Daron nodded. He would never confess that he had to quicken his pace in order to keep up. His stamina was seriously lacking.
That's what a month of torture does for you.
As they reached the foyer, Laurence suddenly turned to the side, steering them toward a small counter tucked into an alcove. It looked like any other nondescript shop, completely at odds with the opulence surrounding it.
The clerk glanced up as they approached, recognition flashing in his eyes at the sight of Laurence. He inclined his head in greeting. "Sage Massfield, always a pleasure. What can I do for you today?"
Laurence leaned an elbow on the counter, casual as could be. "Two vials of ichor, please." He handed the man his ID-card.
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me Sage, but if I may ask, why do you need two vials?"
Laurence hooked a thumb at Daron." It's the kid's first time. It's… a special occasion. Council approved."
Kid? Daron bristled but held his tongue.
The clerk's eyes wandered to Daron. He paused for a moment, inspecting the teenager. Upon noticing the tie pin, he shrugged his shoulders, scanned the card and reached beneath the counter, retrieving two small glass vials filled with glowing blue liquid.
Daron stared, transfixed by the faint luminescence.
Ichor.
The lifeblood of magic itself. His fingers itched to hold it. Laurence passed him a vial, the glass surprisingly cool against his palm.
"Bottoms up," he said with a wink.
Daron held the vial up to the light, watching the ichor swirl lazily within.
That's an… interesting consistency.
The glowing blue liquid suddenly seemed far less inviting. He hesitated, fingers tightening around the glass.
Can't be that bad, right?
He popped the stopper and raised it to his lips.
The scent hit him first, a pungent mix of sweetness and something vaguely medicinal. Daron wrinkled his nose, casting a dubious look at Laurence. But the older magician just smiled, nodding encouragingly.
Here goes nothing.
Daron tipped the vial back, the substance sliding over his tongue and down his throat. It was... indescribable. A burst of cloying sweetness, followed by a bitter, almost sour aftertaste that made him want to gag. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to spit it back out.
Laurence's laughter rang out through the Magistrate's halls.
"Oh, the look on your face!" He grinned, eyes dancing with mirth. "Priceless."
Daron grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth in a futile attempt to rid himself of the taste. It lingered, coating his mouth like a film.
"You could've warned me," he grumbled, shooting Laurence a half-hearted glare.
"Where's the fun in that?" Laurence winked, still chuckling. "Besides, it's a rite of passage. Every magician has to choke down their first vial of ichor. Builds character."
Daron rolled his eyes, but he couldn't quite suppress a smile. There was something about Laurence's easy humor, his ability to find levity even in the most mundane of moments. It was refreshing, after the heaviness of the past few weeks.
"Ichor is a substance which helps negating the side effects of our Nexus," Laurence began to explain. "The Mana imbalance doesn't only affect things outside of our body, like electricity for example, but also our body itself. Think of it as like an unnatural 'residue', which causes alterations. Ichor helps cleanse a magicians body of this residue.
Daron nodded. He could feel the Ichor working its way through his system.
Laurence continued: "If a magician goes without consuming Ichor for too long --maybe around a month, give or take-- the mutation process begins. It may start with subtle changes in skin or hair color and texture, but can escalate into more grotesque transformations. Since you were held hostage by the Order of Resurrection for some time, your hair underwent this small mutation."
Daron ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at a strand of black hair that seemed to have blended back in with his natural, brown hair. To his surprise, he noticed the streaks had a new vitality to them. Although they were still not their original color, they no longer looked dull and lifeless.
He quickly pushed up his sleeve, hoping to see some change in the scars that marred his skin, but they remained stubbornly unchanged.
Laurence caught his eye, his expression softening with understanding. "Well, I had also hoped they were atleast mended a bit, but I guess Ichor doesn't fix everything," he said quietly. "But thats how it is. You should accept them as a part of you from now on."
Daron swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. He knew Laurence was right, but it didn't make the disappointment any easier to bear.
Laurence's voice cut through his thoughts, drawing him back to the present.
"Anyway, we should get going." His tone was brisk, but not unkind.
Daron nodded, tucking the empty vial into his pocket. It felt like a talisman, a reminder of the path he'd chosen.
***
As they stepped outside, the limousine was already there, waiting for them like a trusty companion. Its sleek black exterior stood out against the pale stone of the curb, giving off an air of luxury and sophistication.
Daron slid into the backseat, Laurence settled beside him.
"Where are we going now?" Daron asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Laurence smiled. "To headquarters," he said simply. "It's time for you to meet the rest."
Daron felt a thrill of anticipation at the prospect. The Special Magic Force, the elite unit tasked with protecting the magical world, and now, he was a part of it.
As the car pulled away from the curb, merging into the flow of traffic, Daron couldn't help but notice a sense of purpose.
Maybe… this is where I'm meant to be.