I gripped the ring tightly in my pocket; as I poured energy into the symbol engraved on the ring’s face, I felt the spell take effect. I took a deep breath, and pain overwhelmed my senses. My ribs were definitely cracked or worse. Restricting myself to shallow breaths, I opened my eyes; I was on a rocky island in the middle of a large lake. The grey light of the sun narrowly missed my eyes; it was starting to set, and I was in the shadow of a large stone tower with a bright white light emanating from the top of the structure shining down like a spotlight on a small area a few dozen feet away. Before me was who I assumed would be my killer: a woman with long black hair, grey skin and eyes, and grey blood trickling from a stab wound in her chest. I’ll fess up to that, I stabbed her – my last attempt at killing her. Before you jump to conclusions, I’m not a murderer. Well, that might not be 100% true depending on your definition of murder, but she tried to kill me and my friend first. She was dressed in a skin tight, dark grey dress that flared around her wrists and knees with a slit up each side revealing her thighs. I stumbled toward her trying my best to ignore the pain in my sides; I was hoping to defy the odds. Have you ever done something that you knew you would fail? Maybe you asked the really hot woman for her number or applied for a job you weren’t qualified for; if the reward for success is big enough, it’s worth trying even with little hope for success. Well, if I had even the most remote chance of saving my friend’s life, I had to take it. Unfortunately, on top of my injuries, my hands were shaking, I was drenched in cold sweat, and my stomach was twisted in knots; a remote chance doesn’t begin to describe how unlikely it was I was walking out of there. “I was wrong about you, Dante. You are more than the monster within; you have gumption,” the murderous creature before me said. “But, the fight is over. You took your best shot, and you failed.” Without another word, she raised her right hand with her palm facing me. I caught a brief glimpse of the black lines tattooed on her hand before a projection of pure light sprang into existence; it was a dark blue circle surrounding multiple complicated symbols which fit together like puzzle pieces to make a large sigil, roughly two feet in diameter. The rune was composed only of light, and it hung in the air a foot and a half in front of her palm. Blindingly bright arcs of electric current began pulsing out of the sigil and back into it like a stun gun. First one, then another and another. In a panic, I raised my own hand, and a similar hologram appeared in front of my hand; mine was a light pink circle surrounding similar but different symbols. As I expended power, focusing it into the symbol in front of my hand, the blue sigil began ejecting lightning bolts headed directly for me, at least a dozen of them. Finally, (and by that I mean after half a second) my spell activated, and a bright pink light shot from the sigil in front of my hand dispersing itself into a dome of solid semi-transparent pink energy which surrounded my body in a half sphere about two meters in diameter. When the electric blasts struck the dome, they splashed against it like it was a brick wall and strained the spell requiring more energy from me. Unfortunately, as the shield formed around me, two of the lightning bolts were already inside of the dome leaving no obstacle between me and them. There was a brief moment between seeing the electric current heading toward me and being hit by it; I wish I could say I thought something cool or selfless, but the only thought that went through my head was the Pearl Jam lyric, “Ohheadlightfacesthatheseesaren’tredlikesamilliay oh yeah.” No clue what he’s saying, but I’m sure it’s beautiful. As the lightning struck me, I lost all control of my body; my muscles twitched and writhed with no input from me throwing me to the ground. Luckily, I managed to maintain the spell long enough to block the rest of the blacks; I must have blacked out momentarily because when I opened my eyes, I was on the ground with no memory of impact. There was a strange smell in the air, kind of like bacon. My stomach rumbled with hunger which was quickly replaced with disgust as I realized I was smelling my own burned flesh.
I guess I got a little ahead of myself. My name is Dante Solace, and if you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead. I know what you’re thinking: what a cliché way to start a story. Well, you’re not wrong, but I never claimed to be a writer. You might also be wondering if I’m dead, how did I write this. Well, I’ve known it was only a matter of time until someone offed me for years, but recently, it seems like that’s going to be sooner rather than later. Eternal blackness might not sound so bad especially if you’ve lived my life, but that won’t happen to me. I was destined for hell from the moment I was born, but before I get there, I want just one person to know what I’ve been through. Everything I’ve done, the good and the bad; unfortunately, that’s you. I’d apologize for burdening you, but I’m way too selfish for that. Luckily, I have a special ring that’s currently in my pocket perfect for such a task: I’ve set it up so my thoughts and feelings will be psychically projected in the moments before my death. No, I’m not a lunatic; I’m a magic practitioner. Think Harry Potter but without the transphobia and plot holes, or Harry Dresden but without the overt horniness. I’m definitely like some wizard named Harry… Ok technically, I’m not a wizard. Exposition time: I belong… well belonged to an order called the Gnosilepides. It dates back to ancient Greece, and blah blah blah who gives a shit? Our purpose is to defend humanity from its supernatural enemies: ghosts, demons, vampires, werewolves, etc. and most importantly, other practitioners. To fulfill that purpose, order members usually referred to as spellswords, are trained in battle magic, primarily elemental magic (the four elements and their combinations) as well as various martial arts and fighting styles. We are far more limited in what we can do than say wizards who are trained more broadly in magical styles, but I’ve never met a wizard I couldn’t kill if it came down to it. There are order members all over the world that execute anyone that uses black magic, that is necromancy, demonology, hemomancy, etc. The order has been in decline for decades, but 30 years ago, over half the of the North American chapter was eliminated by demonologists. They didn’t even train any new order members for 15 years after that until my classmates and I came along. 8 years after that a group of assholes called The Cloaks more or less finished the job. As far as I know, myself and my “Uncle” Kaine are the last spellswords in the Americas.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Back to me. I guess I should start at the beginning; when the demonologists decimated the Gnosilepides, both of my parents were killed. That was actually before I was born (it’s magic; don’t think about it too hard.) I used to think that made me a badass anime protagonist, but *spoilers* I’m not in an anime, and I’m definitely not badass. I was “raised” in a small suburban neighborhood in the Midwestern United States by my Uncle Kaine. He’s not really my uncle but rather a student of my mother though I didn’t know this at the time. I say “raised” as he was one of the few remaining active spellswords meaning he was gone a lot… a LOT. I would often not see him for weeks at a time instead staying with an elderly neighbor, Aunt Maryl. Maryl was… How can I say this delicately? She was a mean old cunt; she’d yell at me for the tiniest mistakes and had never heard of the internet, video games, or even television. I learned later she was a 300 year old retired spellsword, but she’s still mean. As a child with no parents and an at best half present guardian, school was not fun. I was the shy, skinny, weird kid with no friends. I was smart and did well, but I often retreated to fantasy worlds: books, comics, video games (when Kaine was home), music, (I was always partial to 90s alt rock even though half of it is older than me), etc. The whole time I had no idea magic was real or who my parents really were. Kaine told me they were traveling salesmen just like him, and they had died in a terrorist attack. Technically the second part was true: the demonologists often mass scale slaughtered regular mortals, so the mortal news branded them terrorists. It didn’t mean much to me, but I did often imagine how I’d have a perfect life if they had lived. I’m sure it still would have been shitty, but I needed something to dream about.
My life didn’t really start until I turned 15. My birthday is in August right before school starts. I had no idea anything out of the ordinary was about to happen. As far as I knew I was about to start my sophomore year of high school. My freshman year was probably the worst year of my life, so I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but I figured I would escape from all of the bull shit when I went off to college. Only 3 more years to go. Everything changed on my birthday though. I guess I should take this time to describe myself. At 15, I didn’t look that much different than I do now, just a little less defeated and without permanent dark circles under my eyes. I was/am 6 feet tall exactly and weighed about 130 pounds. The word gangly comes to mind; I have curly (ok, frizzy) brown hair that goes about halfway down my back. At 15 it was a little shorter but the same style. I also have permanent 5 o’clock shadow that I shave about once a month, but I’ll admit it was much patchier back then. I have hazel eyes and thick, dark eyelashes. I came home on my birthday after hanging out with my “friends” who conveniently lost my number every time I didn’t have weed or booze.
“Happy birthday Dante,” Kaine said when I walked through the door. I instantly knew something was up.
Kaine is a little shorter than me, maybe 5’10”. He’s not a big man by any means, but he’s cut as fuck. I don’t know how else to describe him; he’s not body builder big but more like farmer big. You can tell he got those muscles from doing stuff rather than pumping himself full of protein and lifting a heavy bar over and over. He’s also got scars all over his body most notably three six inch long scratches on the left side of his face. He had shoulder length black hair excluding one grey lock on the left side of his face. Most of the time when people say someone has grey hair, what they really mean is they have a mix of black and white hair. As humans age, the cells responsible for coloring hair become damaged, so that cell produces white hair. Kaine’s grey lock is different though: the hair itself was actually grey.
You’re probably wondering why I thought it was weird Kaine wished me a happy birthday. In the previous fifteen birthdays (well at least the previous 10 or so that I remembered,) Kaine had never once acknowledged it. I don’t want you to think Kaine was an asshole; he’s a nice guy, but how would you react if as a kid in your early 20s with a very important and dangerous job you were given a newborn to take care of? He definitely wasn’t ready to be a parent, but he did his best.
“Thanks,” I replied eyeing him suspiciously. “How did you know?”
“Fifteen is a very important birthday for people like us.”
“People like us?” I was getting more and more wary by the second. I had no idea where this was going, but in my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have guessed what he was about to say.
“I have to tell you something, Dante. Your parents weren’t traveling salesmen, and neither am I,” he said solemnly.
“Yeah, I figured. Are there even traveling salesmen anymore? Or is it salespeople? Either way, people sell stuff on the internet now,” I lied. It actually hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that it was a terrible cover story, but I wanted to sound smart. “Is it drugs? Human trafficking? Guns?”
“Nothing like that,” he chuckled. The bastard actually chuckled in front of me while keeping me in suspense. As you might have guessed by now, I don’t have a lot of self-control. Even years of magical training couldn’t instill that in me.
“Are you going to fucking tell me, or are you going to sit there and laugh at me?” I shouted.
“Calm down. Your parents and I belong to an order called the Gnosilepides…” Blah blah blah. I already told you the details, but my initial reaction was probably the same as yours: skepticism.
“Magic?? MAGIC? What do you think I’m an idi..” I didn’t finish the word before Kaine vanished in front of my eyes. I looked around when I heard a voice coming from behind me.
“Magic.”
I don’t know why, but that really, really pissed me off. I didn’t know how he had done that, but surely it wasn’t magic. So I did something stupid. Get ready for that because it’s one of my favorite pastimes. I reared my right elbow backward toward where the voice was coming from as hard as I possibly could. I expected to hit him right in the jaw, but instead I hit something hard. Something very hard, immovable even.
“Ahh fuck!” I screamed as I whirled around to see a transparent purple sphere surrounding Kaine’s entire body. My eyes opened wide with shock.
“Like I said, magic.”