“Say Malruk, What does the heart of magic look like?”

“Magic, the heart of it? It's grand. The things it shows you. They are…unworldly.” She replies.

Eizeihla Turns around, looking at Malruk. The candlelight makes shadows dance across the wall in a dichotomy. Black curls of hair shift as Malruk peeks behind the curtains into the streets below.

“Malruk, Is this really necessary?” Eizeihla asks for the eighth time today.

“Yes, it is, apprentice. Now shush. I want that artefact.” Malruk snaps back.

Eizeihla stares at her teacher. Malruk’s eyes reflect the light from outside the room like opals under a full moon.

Magic sparkles behind them, crackling like fire, booming like thunder.

“But you are going to kill her, and probably everyone on the street.” She looks away from the window, not wanting to see the people hidden behind a curtain on the street. Even picturing the faces of the innocent that might — will— get killed.

Malruk licks her lips before she replies, “Everything to delve deeper into the heart of magic, Eizeihla. That is what true mages are. Not the ones squabbling for power.”

She lets out a sigh and suppresses it midway when her teacher glares at her. In annoyance, she glares back at Malruk, “What? We have been sitting here for hours, waiting for that stupid artefact so that you can steal it and take a look at it or something.”

This time it's Malruk’s turn to sigh, “That ‘stupid artefact’ is worth more than ten times this city, bricks and all.”

Eizeihla moves over to the corner of the badly-lit room, grumbling about evil teachers and the artefacts they would kill for. But still, she would have given up everything for Malruk to teach her. Being older than two centuries, stories about her are widespread. From her early days where she duelled young lords with spell and blade, to her later years where she extinguished with covens as the wind does with candles.

However, the story that made Eizeihla beg Malruk to teach her didn’t happen in those early days, nor her later years.

At that time, long before she was born, Malruk decided to grace the floating city; the city of magic with her presence. Everyone tried to rope her into their plans, using Malruk as a chess piece on their boards.

But then they realised that chess pieces sometimes could move on their own, that some didn’t like to be used in petty games of politics.

And when they resisted?

That is when the floating city lost its power to float.

Eizeihla is roused from her thoughts as she sees Malruk’s hand squeeze tighter on her wand.

“Is it time?” She asks.

Malruk doesn’t respond for a minute, her eyes constantly flicking up and down the street, as if she were reading a book. Then she looks up, “Yes. Watch me as I use true magic. Watch as I will do what I want to get what I want. Do you know why?” Malruk asks.

Eizeihla rolls her eyes, she had to answer this question a thousand times. She stands up and takes her time before replying, “Because true magic is selfish.”

“Exactly, apprentice. Now watch as I will act the most selfish of them all!” Malruk yells, making the curtains flutter with magic.

The sunlight flows into the room, chasing the shadows away. They run along the walls, trying to close the curtains again.

Malruk does it for them and looks around at the ground, the walls, and the ceiling. Red eyes open, staring at the duo.

If Eizeihla hadn’t seen this dozen of times she would have run away screaming.

“Come forth.” The words echo throughout the room, making the wooden walls shake and clatter. Limbs of darkness reach out. One reaches out of the ground next to the candle.

The duo watches as the long fingers gently touch the candle with one finger. And then recoil from the heat, or to be more specific: the light. Another arm stretches up, this one more like the claw of a beast, instead of a human hand.

Instead of going for the base of the candle, it reaches higher and higher, until it's above the candle. Both keep watching in silence and the hand presses its index finger and thumb together with the candlelight between them.

A soft hiss, barely audible runs through the room.

“Stay close to me,” Malruk says, all the mischief out of her voice. The purple crystal that sits on her wand lights up, giving off a soft glow.

Instead of shying away from it, the living shadows are captivated by it.

“Heed my request and you will be rewarded, shadows of resentment.” Malruk pauses for a moment, letting the shadows process it. “I am to go into battle. Become my robes, and strengthen my wand. For I am the one that holds true magic in their hand.”

The shadows bob their heads up and down, red eyes gleaming.

Malruk’s wand lights up further, capturing the room entirely in the purple light. Tiny motes of magic fly through the space, like a fishnet separating everyone and everything.

Eizeihla can almost see the shadows mull over it, their eyes flashing with thought.

They seem to come to an unspoken agreement as they gently grab the string of magic that keeps everyone separated.

The threads of purple magic turn dark as midnight as the shadows become one with them.

More threads purple threads appear, being quickly overtaken to the shadows that are still waiting.

Before too long, all the shadowy horrors are gone and all that remains are black threads drifting through the purple room like the undersides of jellyfish.

Ends meet, and patterns are woven. Malruk stays still, as the strings assemble themselves around her into a robe. One darker than the darkest night. Not because it is ordinary cloth dyed with ink. No, they are the shadows of resentment woven into a robe.

Even the purple light of magic doesn’t seem to be able to escape when it meets the cloth. Everything just melts away.

Once Eizeihla got too curious and touched the robe without asking her master for permission. It ended with the skin being eaten off her by the robe. And when she pulled away, she didn’t see the darkness of the robes. No, instead she saw those red eyes full of resentment staring at her.

Then she promised herself to never touch those robes again.

“Are you ready?” Malruk asks her.

“I am. Watch until it gets too dangerous, then leave the city and head towards the hideout. Make sure to not be seen by anyone. If you do, kill them.” Eizeihla repeats the words again.

Malruk simply nods and motions for Eizeihla to step back.

Knowing what is going to happen, the student moves back until she meets the wall.

The air starts to shimmer like the surface of a soap bubble.

Malruk spares one glance at her apprentice before her hand reaches out to touch the wall with the window that looks out towards the street.

Like the soap bubble Eizeihla had conjured, the wall bursts away in a shower of glass and wood splinters. They rain down from above towards the pedestrians like a volley of arrows.

Malruk tunes out the screams of pain. Her eyes lock on the carriage that has moved past the building. Seven seconds too late. She grumbles to herself.

With a final shrug, she takes a step forward. Instead of casting a spell that would let her walk or run on the air itself, she falls down to the streets. Her robes flutter in the wind for the few seconds before she hits the street.

In a single motion, the cape splits open on the back. The fabric shifts and turns into two large wings that pull her into the sky.

For a single moment she is above the buildings, wings curled around her in a blanket. Then they unfurl once again. With another flap, she descends like a hawk on her prey.

People scream as they see her. They run into buildings, thinking that those measly boxes of wood could protect them from her magic.

The blue carriage speeds up in the street, uncaring of any civilians that are in front of it. At the same time, two knights jump out of it, one on each side.

Malruk flaps again with her wings. She stops in the sky, staring at the first defence line.

Two knights' armour, polished enough so that it can pass like a mirror. Even this far she can feel the enchantment on the metal.

The two on the ground raise their swords, both already glowing with divine light.

Malruk’s lips twist in a smile. The purple crystal of her wand lit up. Spells appear around her. She doesn’t need to use words of power for the small fry.

The black wings unfurl behind her, making her look like an angel of death that is descending from heaven.

Both knights' gazes are drawn to the black eyes that pierce their souls.

Frozen in fear they can only watch as on each wing a bow made out of the same shadow exits the robe. Multiple sets of hands hold onto the bows. Another set draws an arrow, thin as a needle, darker than shadow.

One of the knights tries to break free from the paralysis. The other just stares up in fear.

Before they can do anything the arrows are drawn and shot.

With no sounds and a single blink, they pierce the armour and go straight into the chests of the knights.

Finally, they are able to move. However, they do not.

The left one coughs out black goo. The right just looks at his hand which is starting to melt like candle wax. Before any of the two can call out, their bodies collapse into the black goop.

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Malruk flies down to the ground, letting the carriage thunder over the road for a while longer. She loves a good chase.

She kneels on the ground and stretches her hand out to the remains of the knights. Black tendrils move out of each pile, gently touching her fingers. They curl up around her arms and join her robe.

When she stands up, the only thing remaining are two sets of empty armour. Both have a single hole in their chest plate.

Taking to the air once again. She follows the carriage. Another smirk spreads across her lips, as she sees that her enemies have not been waiting on her.

Thirteen carriages all the same colour, the same size, the same shape, thunder around in the city.

Normally any thieves would give up here. But she is no ordinary thief. She is Malruk, The eternal mage.

With the snap of her finger, all but two of the carriages disappear. She goes after the one that is the nearest.

With another few flaps of her wings, she is above her target.

She looks at the woman who is steering the horses through the street.

“Monster!” Is all she can yell before a black bolt shoots through her skill.

Just like the two before, her body melts into the black shadows that not long later join her cape. Then she smashes the Illusion spell.

She knew it was a spell. That is why she had gone after it first. To install fear. A valuable resource to mages like her.

Her wings grow from the additional shadow added to her wings.

In an elegant dance, she flies through the sky, installing fear wherever she goes.

All too fast she is above the last carriage again; the real carriage.

She gives them a few moments to come outside, blowing up spatial enchantments always has an adverse effect, however amusing it might be.

The door on the right gently sways open. A mage steps out. The ground is too low for him, so instead, he walks into the air.

With a dismissive glance, he stares at her, “Malruk, the eternal mage. How surprising.” He says, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

“Will you stop me?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

The short man nods, “Show me what the eternal mage can do. I’ve always wanted to fight you.”

Malruk stares into the man’s eyes for a single moment, “You’ve always wanted to die? How strange.”

A vein bulges on his forehead. He doesn’t respond with words, only with spells. His clothes flutter as he moves up towards the sky. While moving his eyes are constantly fluttering with magic. She can read which spells he is casting, even with him trying to hide it.

She lets him finish, she could use some light exercise.

When the man is finally done with casting enchantments on himself he speaks again, “Today is your death. I will show everyone that ‘eternal’ is not so eternal as they think.”

Malruk doesn’t even roll her eyes. She has encountered people like him over the last dozens of years. So many that she couldn’t even count them all, even if she used every hand of the shadows in her robe.

“Let’s start already.”

She waits for him to take the first move.

Immediately magic draws itself into the air, forming complex patterns and spells.

Malruk just sighs. No originality, at all. 

Not bothering to break the spell, she conjures her own. Using the robe would be a bit too unfair.

Purple lances appear on her sides. She watches as the man fails to utter a single word. His spells fail.

Not bothering to wait for another attempt she releases the spells.

Like spears, they shoot forwards. The man barely manages to avoid them, floating out of the way. His robes are grazed by one of the purple spears. His cape is eaten away by the corrosive poison, but it stops short of his skin.

“You are truly pitiable. I had expected more.” She says.

Malruk looks down at the destruction her spells caused. Most of the spikes hit buildings, eating through their foundations and making them collapse.

With a dismissive look she conjures a single spell.

“Since you couldn’t handle that, how about this?” Malruk asks, Spreading out her free hand. Lightning curls around her fingers like coiled snakes ready to jump.

Seeing the spell the man tries to flee. He flashes bit by bit away, into the distance.

Malruk shakes her hand, making the spell release and shoot after him.

The man looks back at her, barely a few hundred metres away. He sees Malruk wave at him, a gentle smile on the eternal mage’s face.

Before he can utter a curse, the lightning grabs him, running over his skin, locking up any muscles of his body. The mage twitches and starts to smoke. More smoke rises, as the magic fries through the wards and charms.

With all those burnt away, the man bursts into flames. A single yell leaves his vocal cords before they are melted.

Malruk turns back to the carriage, the magic keeps rolling off it. Her left eye flickers with magic as she observes the intricate field of magic that has been set up around the moving vehicle

She rests one finger on her lip, “So this is how it is?” She asks herself.

The eternal mage conjures a single purple spike and releases it at the shield around the carriage.

When it hits it bounces away from it and hits a building through the front. A second later the building collapses.

“Mister mage, would you please come out? Or do you want me to tear the enchantments from the carriage? After I do that it certainly wouldn’t be much fun staying inside.”

An audible sigh fills Malruk’s ears. In response, she automatically conjures a barrier all around her.

A simple man in white robes appears in front of her. Malruk takes a moment before dismissing him. Just an old mage that thinks he is at the heart of magic.

“That man from before. Was he your apprentice?” She asks

The old man sizes her up before replying, “he was,” he looks over his shoulder at the charred corpse, “But he wasn’t a good one. It is hard to find good apprentices.”

At that Malruk shakes her head, “No. Poor masters make poor apprentices. If I would have know that he was trained by someone like you, I would’ve let him escape.”

The man harrumphs, “Someone like me? That brat should be happy that he got the chance.”

Malruk keeps track of the magic behind him that is assembling into a complex spell. Does he think I can’t see something so obvious?

“Yes someone like you. A bad mage.”

The man’s eyebrows snap together, “You have murdered thousands. If anyone is a bad mage here, it is you.” The magic continues to amass behind him.

“Says the man who sent out his apprentice to die.”

“Enough!” his voice roars, thrumming with the magic that is poorly hidden behind him.

The magic forms into blobs of water and freezes over. The air around them has a faint blue hue, showing the bitter cold that radiates off it.

The air cracks and the shards of ice fly towards Malruk.

With a single flap of her wings, she dodges them. The shards stop behind her back, turn and fly at her again.

“Better than the apprentice, but not by much.” She comments.

The ends of her abyssal black robes ignite into a red fire that shifts to purple where it meets the robe. Instead of moving out of the way of the ice shards, she keeps standing in the air waiting for them to hit her back.

Before they can do so, the ice ignites and turns to steam.

Malruk’s hand reaches out and the vapour collects itself into a ghastly orb that floats just above her hand.

“What to do with it?” she muses.

An Idea pops into her mind. The misty orb spreads out into a single thick strand, curling in the air like a snake.

She lets the tail go, and it slithers through the air towards the other mage.

Before it is upon him the snake opens its maw, revealing jagged teeth that look more solid than the rest of its ghastly body.

Not amused, the old man points his hands forward. Magic coalesces into a bright green bolt. Sparks fly off it while it is being held.

Just like the snake, it leaves the palm of the mage and shoots forwards.

It enters the snake's mouth and explodes, making the ghostly snake explode in an amalgamation of fireworks.

Having not been idle, a new volley of spells is waiting behind Malruk’s back. She snaps her finger and they flow forwards like a tide.

The robed man counters with another attack. The exchange of magic continues until she gets bored.

Malruk speaks up, having stopped chanting spells. She doesn’t look at the man but at the remains of the city below. “So even a bad mage can cast some magic. I tire of it. Let’s see if you can also cast some close-up spells.”

Her eyes fall on the carriage, that has stopped moving below. It is still undamaged, the enchantments having protected it from any stray spells that hit it.

Malruk’s eyes move towards her robes, “Shadows of resentment, heed my call. Let there be pain.” She says, not bothering with the rhymes they like so much. Instead, she will appease them with blood and death.

The robe made out of living shadows draws tighter on her back.

Malruk ignores the man before her, already casting all the physical boosting spells he knows.

The shadows of her sleeves tighten around her arms, becoming a part of her skin. They flow like water over her skin, lengthening her fingers into claws. The wings on her back, become more compressed, but no less strong.

With a simple teleportation spell, she appears in front of the man, still in the middle of a chant.

Wanting to have a bit more fun before the real fight begins, she summons a fireball. From a tiny pinprick of light, it grows to the size of a horse in less than a second.

Waves of magic and heat roll off it as it continues to grow. She can feel him tugging on her spell, trying to tear it apart.

She wanted to make it a bit larger, but enough is enough.

Playtime is over.

Gently, as if petting a dog, she touches the grand fireball, pushing it forward like a shy child.

The enemy hasn’t been idle. Having given up on dispelling the spell, he decided to layer shield after shield of magic on him.

Fire and shields meet, one quickly eating through the other. With a final effort, he manages to push the spell off him.

In an arc, it flies through the sky and hits a city block not far away. The grand fireball explodes and buildings are consumed by it. The ground and even the air trembles. People on the ground yell out, as more buildings, their supports having been ruined due to earlier spells, start to topple over.

“See what you have done!” the man yells out. The robes on his arm have been burned away.

“You deflected the spell. Now, are you ready for round two?” Malruk asks.

She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, immediately appearing in front of him, claws already lashing out.

The man stumbles back in the air before regaining his footing. He parries the next blow with his forearm. Even with all the spells that boost his body, bringing it closer to magic than flesh, she still cuts through his skin.

He curses and pulls out a blade of a pocket dimension.

The next three blows are parried. The fourth is a feint he falls for. Her claws graze over his shoulder, cutting through the enchanted robes like butter.

The exchange goes on, parry, block, slash, hit.

Upping the stakes, Malruk starts to conjure spells around them while they engage in combat, slamming each other through the sky.

Spells and fist meet. Acid rains, thunder booms. Every spell both know is unleashed, completely destroying the city below.

With a good fist, Malruk hits the man in the face, giving him a nosebleed.

He looks at her shocked. He only gets a smile and another blow as a reply.

“Let’s finish this. I am getting bored.”

The mage rubs the nosebleed away. His robes are singed, torn by claw and fist.

Malruk on the other hand looks fine. Even better than fine. The shadows of her robe seem to laugh with joy as the red eyes peer down into the destruction.

She holds both hands up to the air and calls out to the shadows, “Come. Come! Let’s give them our strongest attack. Let them show what the heart of magic truly can do!”

Shadows tear themselves loose from her robes, flying into the sky like birds of calamity.

The sky starts to darken and the sun is swallowed by the illusion.

The few shadows that remain bind themselves even more with her.

Her eyes, purple with magic, start to turn red at the edges. Her face is taken over by the shadows when an inky black liquid washes over it. The wings on her back grow sharp, jagged spikes between the feathers.

The other mage looks up to the sky, as it turns dark like night. Then an idea pops into his head; she had been playing with him all along.

“And now my last spell. Something I have spent decades on. Look into the world of darkness; the abyss. For if you look in it, it will always look back.”

The robed man’s attention is drawn towards Malruk. He can’t help but stare into her eyes, red like the shadows she controls. The centre of it alight with magic.

He blinks once startled. Then he realises that he is falling towards the ground, but his body is still standing there.

His vision starts to shatter like mirrors that are slowly breaking apart.

Then with a vicious snap, everything shatters. His body breaks apart into meaty chunks that fall to the earth.

But that is not the only thing that was affected. Buildings crumble, people fall over. Even the ground is torn apart.

Malruk looks back to the dark sky. She recalls her shadows, now not afraid of tearing space itself with her magic.

“Now, my prize.” She cackles.

People call her many things.

Selfish

Monster

Evil

Devil

Calamity 

But all that doesn’t matter to her. For she is selfish. There is only one thing she wants; the heart of magic.