Ronan was a frustrated villain. His affinity for dark magic gave him all sorts of ideas to get rich without working, or to finish off those parents who had kept him chained up, locked away and half-starved for as long as he could remember. The blame, of course, lay with the stone slab. He, a son of an unimportant baron, had dared to have a high magical affinity. Up to that point, everything was perfect. The problem: dark magic. At first, there was nothing wrong with possessing dark magic, 10% of nobles were born that way and another 8% ended up developing it after learning that the good actions of light magic usually led to being deceived and taken advantage of again and again. No wonder there were monasteries to protect that other 2%.
Ronan's parents, as it happened, both had dark magic. The problem was the affinity. A very high affinity was something exceptional. The barons both had it at low level. The fact that he showed a very high affinity when they took him, at age 3, to touch the slab, meant two things for his parents. First, greed. Someone like that could go far in the games. Second, fear. Because, if their son had stronger evil impulses than them, maybe they'd end up murdered by their own offspring. Hence, they kept him chained until he was eighteen, the time to take the tests. With no company but his parents and occasional magic and study tutors, and no light except the dim candlelight. For Ronan, just having left that basement and being able to feel the warmth and blinding clarity of the Sun was wonderful. Even more so when he began to find himself surrounded by the academy's bustle, by the other applicants. However, the novelty also made him feel an urge to crouch down and hide. Were they going to hit him? He flinched with a jump. Some student looked at him strangely and began to open his mouth to mock him but something, something in the lanky boy's presence screamed danger and darkness, so he simply moved away. Ronan stayed there for a few minutes, curled up in the middle of the hallway. Others avoided him. Avoiding him seemed visceral, ignoring him too. More calm, Ronan stood up again and continued his way to his dormitory.
Oh yes. The outside world was something worthy of all his admiration and wonder. He spent that first day looking everywhere with a dazed face. But nothing compared to the most sublime moment of all, when his lady, the Demon Queen, touched the slab.
There, before his eyes, black dark lines shone testifying to her pact with the seed of darkness, the sacred beast of a forgotten god. Ronan was clear about it. His other lord, the one who spoke to him during the long dark nights in that basement, had given him a mission: to serve this girl.
His lady was like a goddess made flesh, vibrant magical power that, while not as strong as what emanated from Ronan, was much richer in nuances and colors. Ronan's was only deep black. He had to talk to her. Say something to her. But what? What could he say to make his lady accept him as a lackey and, thus, help his other lord reincarnate in the world?
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Then she turned and looked at him.
Oh, only god! It was as if those stars he had seen last night for the first time suddenly filled the sky again, filling his soul with pure and absolute devotion.
He had to say something to her.
But he couldn't, she made a weird face and turned away.
Loneliness and sadness settled back into Ronan's heart. Had his angel rejected him?
It didn't matter, he wasn't going to give up. That's why, when the professor took her away, he decided he would wait. He followed the others to the practical tests.
When his turn came, he passed without problems thanks to the fact that throughout his life all he had done was feel fear, feel loneliness, feel pain, feel rage, study dark magic and practice dark magic. And not necessarily in that order. His last professor told him those feelings had made his mastery of magic increase. In any case, he got a 9.9, which averaged with the zero from the theory test was enough to enter the academy. He could have gotten a better grade in the theory, but he had tried to fail to get revenge on his parents. His next step would have been to run far away and start a life from scratch. A purpose that was truncated the moment he saw his angel.
Since he was the last to be examined, he had to hurry: he hid in the shadows of a corner taking advantage of the fact that no one was looking at him. It wasn't a good hiding place, but people seemed to ignore him, just like his parents had, except when they threw him a sack of food for the week or whipped him. It worked. The professors and aspiring students left the pavilion and no one realized a student remained. He kept waiting. His patience was rewarded in about ten minutes. An emotion overwhelmed him when he saw her approaching following three adults. A feeling that expanded in his chest as she kept doing magic and that, when she wrapped that wooden sword in flames of fire, became a mystical experience. Spirit. The fifth basic element. He did know what that was: it was the sign that his lord would soon return to the world.
A little wolf poked its small head out of his angel's uniform jacket pocket. He was wearing the same uniform; they had given it to all applicants. That wolf was small, but the darkness emanating from it was monstrous. Of course, to see it, one had to have the highest affinity with the element, something that wasn't a problem for Ronan. Mystical experience? No... a fucking catharsis. That's what Ronan experienced there while a thread of drool trickled from his open mouth. The seed of darkness was part of his god's essence incarnated. And it was... it was perfect.