“Jamil, stop pacing like that, you’ll wear a track in my rug.” Master Jesper was watching from the other side of the room, an open book in his hands. Pausing in his laps around the room, Jamil only huffed before throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m just…ugh! I feel like my blood is itching! When will they wake up?!” Kit had fainted hours ago and Jamil hadn’t been able to be still since. Worry sat heavy in his chest, punching his heart every time he glanced toward the room he’d carried them to. Master Jesper held a hand up.

“I do not know, Jamil. Whenever they are ready, I suppose. No need to be so tense, lad. Just be patient.” He smiled gently but Jamil scowled, his temper beginning to boil. He could feel his muscles twitching, squirming under his skin as his agitation grew. Clenching his fists tight enough to cut his palms with his fingernails, Jamil resumed his pacing.

Patience was never something Jamil had much of, and being told to miraculously produce more of it only served to irritate him further. How could he be expected to be patient at a time like this? Vendic could break free of his seals at any time and he certainly wasn’t going to wait around for his opposition to be ready! No, Jamil had no time and no room for patience. Something brushed his arm and he turned, startled. Master Jesper smiled gently, his hand on Jamil’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you come with me to tend the Well, hm? Take your mind off all this for a moment.” Normally his master’s serene expression calmed him, but today it only made Jamil feel more agitated. Still, a visit to the Well sounded like a good idea. Something about all that raw magic just made him feel…right. He nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

**********

The Heart of Magic Well, as its name suggested, was a magical well that sat in the very center of Ava Mara and was the source of the land’s lifeblood. Legend told it had been crafted by Nona herself and given to the First King when the land was still young. Nona promised that, as long as the Well was kept safe, the land would flourish. The First King built Mutehall around the Well and assigned his sorcerer to watch over it; The King’s Mage had been Steward of the Well ever since, and Nona’s promise was kept.

One of Jamil’s earliest memories with Master Jesper was of the Well, of being taught how to properly maintain it and ensure there were no abnormalities in the magic. The boy found great peace being near the relic and would often sneak away from his studies or training to go sit on the cold brick and stare into the swirling colors. When the transformations began and Jamil lost control, the Well seemed to be the only thing capable of calming him. Many times Master Jesper found him asleep on the floor beside the relic, evidence of the Curse still visible on his body.

The Well resided in a small round chamber deep below the floors of the castle, accessible through an enchanted door that only Master Jesper could open. Jamil held the curtain aside while the mage hummed the incantation, and the door dissolved to clear the way. Right away Jamil sensed something was off; he did not feel the usual tingle of raw magic across his skin when the door opened. Cold dread trickled down his spine and, without waiting for Master Jesper, he ran as fast as he could through the doorway and down the narrow staircase to the Well chamber. The only sound he heard was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. The passageway felt like it went on forever, every second passing turning into more anxiety in Jamil’s gut. Something bad was happening, he just knew it.

Almost tripping over his own feet, Jamil skidded into the Well chamber, little more than a small round room with a brick-lined hole in the floor. This hole was the Heart of Magic Well, usually filled with beautiful raw magic that swirled and sparkled in every conceivable color. Now, though…Jamil could not believe what he saw, nor could he stop the horror-struck sound that tore itself from his throat. The magic in the Well had gone black, bubbling lazily as it slowly rose closer and closer to the brick edge. He felt sick. Reflexively he stepped backward and felt himself hit something, someone.

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“Master! Thank the Divines, the Well…!” Jamil spun around to face his master but stopped dead, the anxiety in his gut exploding into full-blown panic.

Black sludge leaked from Master Jesper’s eyes, no longer their amber hue but pitch-dark and soulless. His skin had gone corpse-grey, and when he opened his mouth more black poured out and ran down his chest to stain his beautiful robes. An evil aura radiated from him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The voice that came out was Master Jesper’s, but it sounded thick and wrong as more black gunk bubbled over his lips. Revulsion rose in Jamil’s throat and he took a shaky step toward his teacher.

“M-Master…?”

“I didn’t think my sweet corruption would spread this quickly, but I must say I'm glad it did.” The mage giggled wickedly and turned with unnatural jerky movements, puppeteered by an unseen force. His cold black eyes were impossible to look away from, and Jamil felt his body tense up so hard he couldn’t move.

“Who are you…?” He whispered, clenching his fists and trying to will his body to move. His sword was still on his back, if he could just reach it… The thing inside Master Jesper contorted his face into a gruesome sneer, and suddenly Jamil knew exactly who he was.

“You…you’re him…” Panic gripped his heart as that awful smirk widened.

“Who am I?” He said flippantly, brushing past Jamil to peer into the Well. An excited giggle bubbled out of him that ignited Jamil’s temper; how dare this monster sound so much like his Master!

“Vendic.”

“In the flesh. Well, in this guy’s flesh. Those damned seals don’t allow me to manifest properly, so I must resort to possession. How nasty.” Vendic flapped Master Jesper’s hands as though they were dirty, sighing with the mild annoyance of someone who’d just broken a nail. He turned to Jamil, still frozen in the doorway, and his eyes narrowed.

“Hold on.” Vendic stepped right in front of Jamil, his black eyes seeming to stare into his very soul. The stench of old blood and decayed leaves rolled off him and Jamil almost gagged; his stomach boiled but he didn’t let the disgust show on his face. Clammy cold fingers wrapped themselves around his throat.

“Now, what’s an ordinary Vorran boy like you doing with such a powerful spirit, hm? Yes, right in here…” The possessed hand of Jesper raised and a fingertip touched Jamil’s forehead. The spot instantly burned. “You’re a special one, aren’t you, boy?”

The tip of his fingernail dug into Jamil’s skin, hard enough to cut him. Feeling the thin rivulet of blood start to run down his face snapped him back to his senses and he shoved Vendic away. The possessed mage stumbled back, almost tripping into the Well and giving Jamil enough time to draw his sword and take up a defensive stance. His whole body was tense and ready to spring.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that. Bold, but very stupid.” As Vendic rose to Master Jesper’s full height, the black sludge in the Well behind him raised up into a squirming, nauseating mass of tendrils. His sunken face was twisted with fury. The pressure being exerted by the poisoned magic was intense, making the very air feel like a crushing weight.

‘Vendic is going to kill me,’ Jamil thought hopelessly, but he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword all the same. If he was going to die, it certainly wasn’t going to be without a fight. He had to protect Kit for as long as possible.

Kit. Kit was still unconscious upstairs, and there would be nothing standing between Vendic and killing them if Jamil died now…

Time seemed to slow to a screeching halt and the air around him began to vibrate violently. Dropping his sword, Jamil fell to his knees and gripped his head in his hands, screaming as a single word tore through his mind like a burning arrow:

Protect.

Jamil’s vision swam red, and his Curse violently clawed its way out of his body.

~