The carriage vibrated under him. Every bump sent Maxwell rocking slightly. Things seemed to be moving a thousand miles a minute. Maxwell thought back to when Sir Howitzer had rushed out of the estate with Marco barely able to keep up. He had never seen Sir Howitzer so energetic.

The carriage had velvety comfy pillows on the seats and wide expansive windows. Not that he could see much. The curtains of the carriage were tightly shut to prevent excess light from coming in which was probably a good thing since his ability had been activated by the sun. He peered through the curtains and made out flashes of greenery and fields rushing by. Maxwell adjusted the robe around him. He didn’t want to lose his clothes again. Not twice in one day.

The carriage was ancient technology when compared to modern cars and bused but it had a deep sense of luxury despite that. The interior was adorned in golden metal practically wherever he looked. There’s no that’s actually gold, right?

The sound of reins being whipped rang loudly even above the noise of galloping horses and the vibrating wagon. Marco had joined Sir Howitzer at the front of the carriage which meant he couldn't even ask any questions. Eventually the wagon came to a stop. The doors opened leading to a cathedral. It stretched high above the ground piercing into the sky. The building reminded him of the high-rise skyscrapers of a city which seemed out of place in this medieval world.

Peering through the barely transparent blinds he saw Sir Howitzer knock on the door. The door opened and a nun walked out. Maxwell couldn’t make out what they were saying but it was clearly about him. Sir Howitzer pointed at the carriage every now and then with the nun bobbing her head at his words.

“They’re calling for you,” said Marco, opening the carriage door. Maxwell stumbled to the entrance making sure to not trip on the edge of his robe. Sir Howitzer put a firm hand on Maxwell\s shoulder.

“This is him.”

The nun nodded. She had a stern face like an elderly school teacher.

“The ceremony is already underway, come on this way,” said the nun.

Maxwell nodded silently. He felt a nervousness in the pit of his stomach, not entirely different from what he had felt two years ago entering a new school. He felt a pang in his chest. Why am I thinking about Colin now?

The church was dimly lit. Candles illuminated the church walls. A center-aisle stretched all the way to the altar with candles attached to the elongated benches on either side. As his eyes adjusted to the dim glow he realised the benches weren’t empty as he once thought. He made out rows and rows of hooded figures filling the seats. As his ears adjusted to the quiet he made out low rhythmic murmurs. They spoke as one causing the walls to hum and echo their words. It was as if the walls themselves was chanting with them. The thought sent chills down his back.

“Make your way to the altar,” said a commanding voice. The voice had come from a figure dressed in a flowing robe at the front of the aisle. His black robes had red accents that swirled along it. He held a staff and remained motionless.

Maxwell gulped and began to walk, Marco crept after him.

“He goes alone!” boomed the voice. Marco bowed before scurrying back. Maxwell was surprised at Marco’s shyness. This atmosphere is making me nervous, I’ve never seen Marco so timid.

He took slow steps forward as he made his way to the front. The thick carpeted floor muffled his footsteps. He stopped right in front of the priest. He shone the lantern on the end of his staff in Maxwell’s face.

“We are delighted to have another of Vanderbilt's, It seems god’s grace has reached you too despite common belief,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Does he mean how Ignard never got his magical ability, wondered Maxwell.

He got a glimpse of red and black markings on the priests elderly face. He had been to churches before and even other places of worship but they never had an atmosphere quite like this…

“Clasp the Conduit, “he said, his voice more tender now. He gestured beyond him with his staff.

Maxwell nodded. He walked forward to the podium. The podium had a divot in it but it’s what was above its metal frame that was most mesmerizing. A shimmering orb around the size of a basketball hovered clearly above its surface. He would have mistaken it for metal had it not been for its constantly shifting surface.

He told me to clasp this thing?

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Maxwell reached forward slowly. As his hands touched the liquid he felt a slight tug on his fingertips. It was cool to the touch. He reached deeper into it until its edges reached his elbows.

I’m pretty sure that’s not how physics works, remarked Maxwell.

He looked back at the priest, but the man only nodded.

Dammit. Maxwell usually didn’t like listening to strangers but considering the circumstances he was relying completely on the fact that they held no ill-will against him.

“Well, well aren’t you an interesting one,” hissed a voice. The sound made his skin crawl.

A glimmering face took form in the fluid liquid. Its watery features flowed and ebbed but took form before it completely disappeared.

“Another Vanderbilt as well, “it cackled. “What have those old coots brought me this time.”

Why does everybody know that name? Is my family name that famous?

He was incredibly disturbed by the countenance but he hadn't succumbed to fear yet.

“What are you?”

“Me, oh that’s not important, I’m here to know everything there is to know about you,” it cackled.

The burning sensation on his chest alerted him to the fact that his insignia had activated.

“Oh, You are truly blessed, you have the mark of the angel, bestowed with light magic.”

Its eyes seemed to squint for a second. “I haven’t seen something like this since… since quite a while.”

“Wait, there appears to be something more,” it began. “I can smell it, there’s that bitter scent about you.” It hummed a quiet tune as it searched deeper.

“Fraud!” it hissed.”You don’t belong here?!”

It roared in laughter causing Maxwell to flinch. His arms remained firm entrapped in the liquid. He couldn’t move an inch.

“I smell betrayal on your breath, you sacrificed another didn’t you?” It spat.

These words chilled him more than the last.

“What are you talking about?” he said in a small voice.

He looked around him but everything beyond the podium had been swept up in a world of black.

“Stop this right now!” he shouted.

“No one can hear you!” it roared. “Your heart is black, darker than the innermost coals of a furnace!”

“Let me go!” screamed Maxwell.

“Your life will know no comfort, only pain and misery await you!” it howled. “Your despair will be spectacular!”

“I said stop it, “ said Maxwell, trembling. “Stop it!”

He ripped one of his hands free from the liquid.. “I said stop it!” he shouted. He gripped the face in his palm and crushed it. It squelched in his tightening fist. Droplets splashed to the floor.

“At least your death will bring me amusement,” it hissed. It’s face had formed again in the liquid. With a roar Maxwell punched it. The face distorted once more. Except this time he didn’t stop punching. He tore it apart with his bare fingers, ripping out sludge pieces by the handful. He bashed the face with his knuckles. Every blow sent a wave of liquid onto the ground. Soon only a small sphere of liquid remained. He angrily growled before grabbing it. While he was unaware of it, in his fit of rage a particular surge of energy was running through his body, it coalesced in his arms and as he touched the shimmering mass it ran into the conduit turning it bright yellow.

A splintered mouth formed on the small ball.

“Don’t disappoint me now, suffer for my amusement…” it whispered before exploding in a dazzling display of golden energy, not even the podium remained from that blast.

“Fuck you,” said Maxwell. He was panting heavily his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Adrenaline was pumping through his system.

“What’s going on ??” he heard behind him.

Maxwell snapped too and turned behind him. The rows of people chanted quietly. He took a glance near the entrance and saw his father and Marco’s wide open eyes. Their mouths were also wide in disbelief.

Maxwell looked back at the podium. The podium was intact but the shimmering orb had solidified and a golden crack ran along its circumference.

He tried to calm his rapid breathing. Was it all a hallucination?

The priest raised his arms. “ This power is truly unprecedented, this is a glorious day!” he boomed.

The dark rows of people bowed their heads further, and increased the pace of their chanting.

All Maxwell could do was scan their faces to see how much they had seen.

The priest got to his knees and his staff rattled to the floor. He bowed low- until his head touched the ground. Maxwell could only make out some of the man’s muffled speech.

“...I thank you divine gods for granting me …… My life is yours…”

When the atmosphere had died down. Marco and Sir Howitzer were finally able to approach him.

“I’m so proud of you,” said his father, embracing him.

Maxwell turned his face to Marco, while scrunched in his father’s arms.

“Umm... Marco, I was kind of in a trance, what exactly happened?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” said Marco excitedly. “One second you were there touching the conduit. It turned golden and illuminated the entire room. It then burst in an explosion of golden light, which destroyed the conduit leaving that crack.

‘I see,” said Maxwell quietly. What am I supposed to make of what just happened?

“Are we leaving now,” said Maxwell weakly.

“What do you mean, you can’t just leave?” said Marco.

“What do you mean?” said Maxwell hesitantly.

"The ceremony is only just beginning."