Before I became known as the Dark Mage of Nnmerele, Lord of Shadows, Master of the Dead, and the Scarlet Soul-bender, I was just a chill guy.

I was born to a very nice family, with my parents both healers. Because almost every child wants to be a dragon-fighting, sword-wielding, fire-controlling warrior when they are young, healers are scarce and usually well-paid for their services, especially ones with magical talents like my parents. They spent their days making herbal brews for sickness, chanting minor injuries back to health, and attempting to mend major injuries. Both of them come from a long line of wealthy healers and as I was the only son, it seemed my duty to carry on the family trade. I wasn't opposed to the idea either, and spent the first fourteen years of my life learning the names of medicines and practicing some basic healing spells with my parents. I was pretty good at it.

However, around two months after I turned fourteen, my life changed. I think the local cult was planning something, or maybe just trying to gain some new followers, but they'd strategically placed some tomes of Dark Spells in the local Academy, and I'd found one of them.

I didn't realize they were Dark Spells at the time I saw them, since they were mixed in with other charms under the title Book 23 of Handy Charms for Everyday Use (which is series of books that actually exists) and decided to try out the first spell. It was called Nightfall (Grade 1) and would put out the fire of a candle or lantern if practiced well. The spell was sort of useless but I liked the idea of using magic when my hands would have sufficed.

So, I spoke the words of the spell and managed to make a Grade 1 spell perform its Grade 3 effects. The sky darkened to nighttime, all lights went out, and shadows slipped into the world for a circumference of ten feet around me.

Now, the tome reached out to me as its mind controlling magic connected with the shadows I'd summoned, sensing an abundance of dark energy inside me. This, I think, was the second step of the cults' plan after they'd made sure that the possessor of the spell book had talent for dark magic in them. It failed.

As the mind-controlling spell started to take over my consciousness, I panicked. I didn't want to become a believer of some obscure god which was probably just a dark wizard who needed blood and worshippers to level up, so I called out to the shadows around me. I knew they would obey me and they did, forming into a knife and cutting the spell tome in half.

I had to pay a fee to the library for that book. It was an expensive one too.

Anyways, I told my parents about what had happened, and though they didn't believe me at first, they soon were convinced after I showed them a few tricks with the shadows. I'd become a proficient shadow wielder already, controlling the element in a way that I'd never been able to control the earthen elements. It was clear where my talents lay. My parents were scared and worried, but supportive in their own way. My father had a very serious conversation with me about becoming evil, he said,

"Now, look here son. Your mother and I are both healers and it pains us greatly to have a son who will probably turn out a murderer. But we do wish you could stay away from killing for as long as possible and if you could learn necromancy, that would be very useful. We have a few patients we would like to resurrect."

Actually, he didn't say that. I don't remember what he said, and I just added this because it’s funny. He was indeed obsessed with resurrection though, more the money more than the potential lives it could save. He was a money-orientated person if you ask me, but he cared about his family too. I think both of those qualities contributed to him not banning me from using my sorcery even again, lest it cause murder. My mother who, while caring less about money and more about the patients themselves, was more conservative in her views on other subjects, dark arts included. Her grandmother died by the hand of a Shadow-wielder, or maybe her grandmother eloped with the shadow-wielder and caused a scandal. Something along those lines.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

In any case, I'm getting off topic. My parents eventually decided to send me to the local wizard and for him to help me out. He was known as a nice man, a friend of the family, who my parents thought could be trusted with secrets.

He also happened to be the leader of the local cult.

“So…you’re the boy who destroyed one of our grimoires so easily,” he said, wrinkly face immersed in shadows, shrunken in his flowing purple robes as he sat at his desk. He was a part-time alchemist I believe, and the strange blue potion was bubbling in a pot next to me as I stood awkwardly by the door, lighting the room in a sickly bluish light. I could imagine him stirring it with a spoon and cackling like an old witch.

“Yes, sir I am the boy who destroyed the grimoires,” I replied.

“Well, well, well,” he continued, “you have talent indeed. Would you like to become my apprentice?”

I was nervous back then and when I was nervous, I said stupid things, usually whatever was on my mind, “Sure, if you’ll help me pay the fee at the library for destroying your books. They cost a whole gold coin and I’m too embarrassed to mention it to my parents.”

“What?” he hissed, getting angry and offended, “Be serious, boy!”

He stood up from chair and walked until he loomed in front of me. Though he was a thin and bony figure, he was also tall, like a skeleton, which made sense considering he was a necromancer. Raising a hand, he gathered a ball of shadows from the corners of the room and shaped them into a form of a dagger, sending it at my heart. Instinctively, I blocked the blow with shield of shadows of my own, also gathered from the room. Though I was still a virtual beginner at the art of shadow-wielding, my shield was stronger and more solid than his dagger. He should have stuck to necromancy and intimidated me with a spirit of the dead or something.

My defense hurt his pride, because he well knew I was a complete beginner and also made him greedy. He knew of rituals to suck the talent or magical power of a being out of their body and he was tempted to perform one.

Therefore, the dark wizard attacked again, this time summoning a skeleton to charge at me. It took him only a few seconds, because, I assumed, the skeletons were easy to call and this skeleton had probably been waiting outside the door just in case he needed to use it.

Staring into the hollow eyes of the skeleton glowing green flame and looking down at its decaying bones, all the while knowing that the wizard was preparing to summon more horrid creatures in the background, I looked around for something I could defend myself with. There weren’t many shadows left for me to use because the light coming from the blue potion was too bright, and I wouldn’t have time to create a shield or weapon if I said the spell Nightfall because the skeleton would be upon me already, so I did the obvious thing. Heaving as I lifted it, I smashed the iron cauldron of blue liquid into the skeleton’s face as it came charging at me, letting the potion spill over the skeleton’s body.

For a moment, everything was still. The skeleton, dazed, stumbled backwards from me, its green fire getting put out by the strange substance. For a moment, I thought I’d defeated the skeleton and was beginning to chant the spell of Nightfall when the flames on the skeleton reignited, this time brighter and in a bluish shade.

“Hahahahahah,” somewhere in the background the dark wizard let out a fairly evil laugh, “You didn’t know that this was a potion marked by its distinctive blue shade, used for improving the fighting skills of summoned creatures, specifically boned beings such as skeletons?”

That was a really niche piece of information, but I didn’t have time to respond. A seven-foot tall (it’d started growing taller as well) flaming skeleton was bearing down upon me. I finished the spell of Nightfall as I started to run away, but I couldn’t concentrate on wielding shadows.

In short, I was doomed.