The Wielder of Death Magic

“Master,” said a familiar voice, “-Queen Courtney is ready to see you.”

“Thank you, Alta,” he rose, “-I will be back shortly.” Long corridors stretched as did the growingly slow-paced footsteps. ‘-Emergency summons,’ he straightened his tie at a reflective chestplate, ‘-I wonder what mother has to say?’ The greater door buckled; a lavishly decorated hall expanded alongside a red carpet. Many guests were gathered, drinks served and layers dressed as a reception. There held fewer humans, more demi-humans, and non-humanoid beings. Vampires, the elusive Werewolf clan, Dwarves, and the lizardman, who now went by the moniker of Reptilians. A center throne kept Courtney’s long glossy hair.

“Majesty,” bowed many bystanders. Some lifted their drinks, others tipped their hats, the arrangement was very olden.

“Majesty,” he arrived.

“My son,” she rose her uniquely bleached eyebrows and smiled, “-it’s a pleasure to have you,” her gestures turned towards a pressing crowd, “-if you’d please excuse us,” they broke from the gathering, slithered through the scattered groups and eventually arrived at an open terrace. The door closed with a fragile shriek, a sound that forced an involuntary cringe.

A breeze whistled, “-lovely night,” she smiled.

.....

“Lovely indeed,” he returned.

“Lovely night without the constellation of Syhton.”

He stopped, the prior sentence came out of nowhere, ‘-her tone,’ he narrowed, “-mother?”

“Are you hiding a secret?”

“What secrete, mother, there are many things we keep from each other. I will need more details.”

“Keep your diplomacy for the bureaucrats. I am your mother; I deserve a straight answer.”

“As your son, with all due respect, I deserve a straight question.”

“Okay,” her fingers tightly wrapped in a bottle, “-is it true you killed your ex-wife?”

“No.”

“Tell me the truth, how did she die?”

“Who died?”

“Your wife, Igna, Gallienne’s daughter.”

“Why is this topic being brought forth tonight of all nights?”

“Because,” she unrolled a scroll, “-my contacts have come upon damning evidence that places you at the center of a scheme to kill off the queen. It also states of an affair with the goddess of stars, the chaste goddess; Syhton.”

He lunged, “-mother,” echoed, “-please, there’s no need to dig deeper. Nicola Vonhem Hart and his fiancé, my would-be wife, died in curious circumstances. There’s no denying that point. There is also evidence of her scandalous actions; namely, a moment’s passion during negotiations of Hidros’ fate. There was a call to be made, and I did so. As monarch, the choices forced upon us is tedious, we work with what we have. Tell me, Mother, why is her death important?”

“Because,” she sipped, “-sincerity and trust are what I ask. Arda’s moving forward as a base of operation for Elvira’s production. Phantom’s working under the radar, we can’t have doubt be cast upon the royal family at this later stage.”

“The emergency summons, mother?”

“It’s about this,” she unrolled yet another scroll, “-have a read.”

Dated X100, “-the three in one, one in three, have been sighted moving across the ages. Past, Present, and Future are physically involved with the mortal realm. There is doubt to be cast on their purpose. The heavenly realm, Olympians, are at odds. Athena’s rejected her father’s advance; Hermes’s attempted to chase her position from Mount Olympus. A strange force is at play – the world is on a precipice of change. Gods and Demons are forming contracts and deals that threaten the peculiar balance of the ages. I write this with confidence – the three in one will be key. Their powers mustn’t be discovered lest eternity suffers.”

“The three in one, what about them?”

“The scroll was mysteriously found in a newly excavated dungeon. Mont Blanc has a deeper secret. Adventurers have made camp; the better guilds are on the move. I call you here for the simple task of helping the adventurers.”

“I refuse,” he rose his arms, “-I can’t leave Rosespire unattended. There’s a war being fought; I must help my people.”

“Oh, shut it,” she fired, “-the proclamation was grand. By exposing the truth of celestials, belief and religion have gained power. Doubt’s been cast on the emperor, the church’s at their wit’s end.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he took larger steps, “-abdicating my throne-”

“Abdication is not the answer.”

“Mother, if I’m to become Dimension Orin’s guardian, I will have to be active in the otherworldly sphere.”

“No, stop with the excuses. You will do what is needed from here, from Orin, am I clear?”

Once a mother has her mind set, there is naught a child can but compromise. Igna, despite being the king of a prominent kingdom, found himself unable to rival his mother. She sang only praise and gave heartwarming smiles. ‘What kind of son would so rudely disrespect her mother?’ fire, ‘-if only I had known,’ *cough, cough,* ‘-I would have been more adamant...’ an engulfing pillar of flames swept Castle Blanc. Amber and black pressed against the white and gray of the alps – a massive fire burnt, shining beacons of light rained from the heavens. ‘-I’m stuck,’ a solid mass solidified Igna in place. The hall was no longer. The chatter and laughter of the past were replaced by the mutilated demise of the present. Noble children impaled by golden lances. A deep green sun covered the area. The top half of the castle was seamlessly gone. Pelts of snow crackled – a ray shattered from the ornamental starry night. ‘-I can’t move,’ puffs of death meandered – the very ground corroded whilst he remained in place.

“King Igna,” thundered a familiar voice, “-allow me the honor,” sand-wielding god marched. Every swipe of the finger altered the hovering sand, “-I am Morpheus. God of Dreams and Shaper of Reality. You have made quite a name for yourself,” a pyramid symbol tore across the god’s chest, “-outwardly challenging the gods. Self-proclaimed guardian of Orin, I’m no fool. Some might believe the death, others are wary,” he went to and fro, “-fellow Watcher,” he smiled, “-you are true to believe in thy powers. That must be fair,” he suddenly stopped, “-I would rather raise my guard. Gods are awful, Demons, doubly so,” white hair awry against on the floor. Igna’s eyes widened – Courtney was forced on all fours with her head lined against a guillotine. Loud gusts shook the structure of sand – parts shuffled with exception of the blade and restraints.

“Queen of Arda, rather, Persephone. Wife of Hades and Queen of the Underworld. What is a goddess like you doing in such a place?” her icy gaze breathed, he shivered sarcastically. “Hades would very much appreciate having his queen back, I hope.”

Another figure materialized, “-I’m here,” blond hair swayed, and a beautiful face ambled beside yellow pupils.

“Dear ol’ Morpheus.”

“Lucifer,” they shook hands, “-it’s a treat to see you again.”

“The pleasure is mind,” he smiled, “-sorry to call so suddenly.”

“No, it was my honor to come,” returned the god of a dream. Lucifer broke from the exchange, slowly making way towards Igna, “-we’re one of the same, can’t you see?”

“...”

“Morpheus, can you ease on the restraint?”

“I’m afraid not,” the black miasma from Igna gathered at a nearby fissure. A loud thump shook the ground, and droplets fluttered onto lifeless bodies and snapped into ash.

*Whistle,* “-he’s strong, yeah?”

“Very strong. One inch and he’ll break. He can hear just fine, make it quick.” Artanos waited in the backdrop with focus on the captured queen, “-look at me,” narrowed Lucifer, “-I’ve won this little game of chess. See the God of Dreams? he’s one who’s transcended the limitation of divinity. He counts among the ranks of Watcher, an entity of unequal power. You, Igna, are nothing like him. Watcher of the Shadow Realm my foot, you’re nothing. Morpheus has true power, Morpheus is what one would say, strong. T’was a good idea,” a body dropped from a portal, “-sending her in your stead.” Syhton cried with her chest sliced open – her heart pulsed and her power drained at every thud. Her skin was pulled, leaving only her muscles exposed. “My people sure know their way around a torture chamber. How does it feel to be at the receiving end, huh?” a kick forced her onto the ground, “-a high-tier goddess is wasted on someone like you.” The situation began a few days earlier when Syhton cursed Lucifer. A sandstorm of biblical proportion hit the capital. Those afflicted fell asleep – the bustling town of Melmark turned ghost town. No one knew where the storm originated – no one save him, the emperor. At the center laid Morpheus – a contract made eons ago, one forged amidst desperation, “-Igna, you’re not the only one who has friends in powerful places. Better come to terms, my rival, for you’ve played a part in my downfall for so long it’s amusing,” Courtney on the guillotine at the threat of death, Syhton on the floor with her heart literally beating out of her chest, and Igna imprisoned in a cage of sand. More resistance, the harsher the conditions – any trial at movement saw sand burrow into the nasal cavity and jaw.

“Return to me what you sold. Give me back my wings, give me back my power. I want it back, RETURN IT!”

“...”

“No answer,” he glanced at Morpheus, “-let him speak.”

“No, no,” said the wise god, “-if I do that we all die. Look to Artanos.”

Latter rose from the squat and yawned, “-Lucifer, your wings are gone. Give it a rest already. It’s the same deal with you and Zeus, selfish and always on the hunt for more.”

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No genius, I’m saying the facts,” he skipped until Syhton’s decrypt stature, “-look at this mess. You demons have no chill.”

*By order of the Daeirq Empress of Luna, I command my power’s release, I grant the sapphire of Edicts my blessing. Of the countless of helpless, from the ashes of the fallen, raise wielders of Blood-Arts, shine deep and shine true for under the watchful gaze of Luna, thou art immortal.* raw energy pulsed and blew gusts so hard it levied boulders and crumbled what little remained of the castle.

“What did you do?” an ethereal shield faded, “-Syhton, what did you do!” narrowed Artanos to no avail. He turned at Igna with a sympathetic gaze, “-she released her full power, doesn’t have any strength to regenerate. What a loss...”

Anger boiled, “-SHE DIED WITHOUT RELEASING MY CURSE!” a body rose from the ashes, a blue gem shone atop her head, *by the power granted by Empress Luna, thou deserve death, thou deserve a punishment greater than purgatory, Blood-Arts: Fona,* a blade swiftly gouged out Alta’s throat, “-my bad,” said a sleeping apparition of a knight, “-fell asleep.” Her innards splattered with an equally nauseating sound.

“She missed,” Lucifer held his chest, “-holy hell, she missed,” relief washed over, “-she missed, my god, she missed.”

“No, she didn’t miss,” gulped Morpheus, “-run,” he ordered, “RUN!”

Projectile spells flew, walls of sand rose, the impact threw sands into the air, “-ARTANOS, GRAB LUCIFER AND GO!” The guillotine failed; the blade dropped. *Teleportation.* they escaped on the other side, Lucifer coughed puffs of sand, “-why did we run?”

“Are you insane? The symbols – the watchers. Best we leave the monsters to their own demise.”

“Morpheus won’t lose,” he brushed his shoulder, “-take me to Alphia, I’m done with this world. I remained for my wings – guess I’ll never have them back. Who cares, I’ll make another pair. Father will listen to me, after all, I am the son of Creation.”

“And the mantle of Emperor?”

“Over it. My wife can take care of it. Let’s go Artanos, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Fine,” came an exasperated sigh, ‘-might have gone too far. What sort of monster have I accidentally awakened?’ in the chaos of escape, he pulled the trigger resulting in the blade’s drop.