The world is a dangerous place, full of creatures that exist for the sole purpose of ripping you limb from limb. And yet, where there is danger, there is opportunity – opportunity to climb to yet unseen heights of power, to reign supreme over all life, the very elements at the mercy of your fingertips. Magi, magician, wizard. There are many names for it, yet each name leads through the same gateway. Thus reach out, strive for the summit, oh, untapped potential! May your bottomless yearning for something great take over and lead you to us, for we will welcome you with arms wide open!

* A recruitment pamphlet to Phoenix Call magician’s academy.

Blood trickled down in slow, languid drops, gathering into one big puddle beneath the feet of a figure – slumped against the bindings that tied it to a wooden pole. Bloodied and bruised, clothes torn and stained in black, the figure had an obviously male frame, while the facial features were hidden underneath a wet, stained black bag.

Damp coolness filled the dark, windowless room he was situated in – with barely discernable shapes of barrels and sharp-cornered containers seen here and there, a staircase leading upwards at the opposite end of the room. It was from the top of that very staircase that a piercing glow entered, ushered in at the sound of squeaking hinges, carried forward by creaking wood as a group of three individuals stepped down and into the room. The foremost of them was holding up a lamp – a container of framed grass with a small fire burning inside. He was a man of round features, back bent over – naked belly hanging out at the behest of gravity, peaking through worn and torn clothing that spoke of poverty and hardship. A feature shared by the companion walking behind – a polar opposite in stature, the man was tall and lanky, a small spring to his steps, yet the same hard look in his tired eyes, the same lines of hardship on his face. Such poverty in open display was reinforced by hands of worn and rugged skin, grains of dirt stuck underneath un-kept nails, while stains of red covered each and every finger.

“Here, Lord Alexander” – The round man holding the lamp, offered – a free hand extended towards the tied-up figure.

“I assume the deed is done, then?” – Alexander asked. Unlike the two before him, he was a man of long and well-kept golden hair, his chin held high, eyes darting around in disdain. A man of a solid frame and height that rivaled the taller of the two companions, while his broad shoulders were set in an almost straight line, which practically radiated an overflowing sense of confidence from the young man. He was clothed in extravagant robes, gold embroidery dividing up the red cloth in neat and symmetric sections.

“Of course, Lord Alexander” – The round one quickly replied in a humble tone, nodding with his whole body.

“He was a lively one, though. Had to really put in some work” – The lanky man added with a smile of crooked and blackened teeth.

“I assure you that your efforts shall be rewarded” – The young lord commented sharply, his sky-blue eyes glued to the slumped figure – the lamp already close enough to illuminate it. He suddenly frowned – “What’s that?”

“What?” – Confused, the round man looked around, head darting to look at the golden-haired man, only to swivel in an attempt to follow his furrowed gaze – which seemed to lead to the bloodied figure.  

In large strides, the young man approached the figure, only to point a finger at a small yellow amulet hanging from his neck. He took it up, stretching its chain as he held it out to the two companions – “Did I not tell you to get rid of any possessions before disposing of the body?”

“A-apologies, Lord” – The lanky man’s voice seemed to shake, hands nervously rubbing together – “I-it wouldn’t come off…”

“It what?” – The golden-haired man raised an eyebrow, staring down at the two men with a new level of distain.

“We t-tried, Lord” – The round man took a step closer, his tone reproachful – “It just won’t come off…”

With a frown, the young lord silently stared down at the two for a few moments, only to redirect his attention to the amulet. He gave the trinket a light tug, the attempt clearly not strong enough as the chain still held. A much stronger tug followed – enough to rock the figure’s head, yet the young man’s frown deepened still – the attempts bore no results.

He suddenly let go of the jewel, leaving an open palm a short distance above it. Suddenly, a new light filled the vicinity – a sharp, purple glow that came from a jewel encrusted in a golden bracelet the young lord wore. As it did, an invisible force seemed to tug at the necklace, pulling at the chains with enough force to rattle it. Teeth clenched, an ever deeper furrow lining his brow, the young man stood in silence for a moment or two, eyes glaring at the jiggling trinket. As abruptly as the phenomenon occurred, it seemed to cease – the light suddenly snuffed out and the necklace falling back on a lifeless neck, little worse for wear.

The young lord clicked his tongue.

“Just leave it there and dispose of the body” – With a quick, yet elegant flourish, the young lord turned away from the slumped figure, eye on the two colleagues – “I hope I can trust you with at least this much” – His eyes narrowed.

“Of course, Lord Alexander” – The more robust man bowed respectfully.

“You can count on us” – Followed in turn by the lanky one, the two keeping their heads lowered for a moment or two.

“Good” – The lord then said with finality and stepped past the two – “I’ll leave you to it” – The last phrase left behind as he ascended the flight of stairs, the tone of his voice adding an almost tangible weight to it, as if failure was not an option.

A silence followed the departure as the two stared off at the empty entrance to the dark room, ears strained for any noise. The silence was suddenly interrupted with a quick jab done by the round man, his fist lightly landing on the lanky companion’s mid-rift.

“Oof” – The strike was enough to make the target back away a step after a gasp of escaping air.

“Damn it, Joe. I told you to keep your mouth shut when dealing with those uppity lordlings” – He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Why should I rub my nose in the dirt for pricks like that? He knows we have a reputation of getting the work done, isn’t it worth at least something?” – Joe shot back with a frown, a hand rubbing the struck spot.

“In their eyes it’s worth shit and you know it” – The offender grumbled and turned to regard the slumped figure, eyes hungrily eating away at the amulet, the light from the lamp shining off its smooth, golden surface – “You brought the saw?” – He then added without even looking back at his colleague.

“Yeah yeah, I got it” – Joe grumbled dismissively, a hand rummaging in a bag lying near his feet, only to take out a sharp-toothed hand-saw – only to offer it over – “Here”

“Thanks” – The round man grasped the extended tool, only to try and draw it to himself.

“Jim” – Joe said with a sudden edge in his voice, a glare now directed straight at his colleague, a hand still clutching the saw, unwilling to let go.

“What?” – Jim turned with a glare of his own, the eyes of the two meeting for a moment.

“I told you to stop it with the beatings. Strike me again and it won’t end well” – The threat was too obvious to miss and a tense silence followed it as the two stared at each other without moving a muscle.

“Fine fine, sorry. Old habits, ya know?” – The tension was quickly dissipated as Jim displayed a smile.

“Yeah, I understand” – The smile quickly infected the lean colleague, after which he released the saw and the two stepped to the prone figure together, a much lighter mood filling the room.

“Quickly, untie him and place him on the ground. We’re not leaving till we get that damn necklace” – Joe commented, his hands already on the upper bindings, while Jim bent down to take care of those around the legs.

“It should be worth a pretty penny” – He cackled – “Maybe more than that pretentious lord promised” – Jim spat.

“That’s only if we get it off. Didn’t you see how he couldn’t do it even with magic?” – Joe commented, the bindings under his care already loose, hands sliding under the figures armpits, readying to lower him down, eyes on the still busy colleague.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Was probably some weak spell, those little princes can’t help but show off” - Who grumbled just as his own bindings were done, backing away only to see Joe drop the body down with little care, making sure it lay on its back, with the amulet resting on the chest.

“Regardless, if there’s no neck to hold onto, the necklace shouldn’t be hard to remove, right?” – Joe grinned with the saw in hand. With a dangerous glint directed at the body, he bent down, one hand sliding over the necklace almost lovingly and remaining there for a moment. He frowned, lifting his hand with the necklace still in hand. .

“Alright alright, you’ll get to hold it as much as you like when we’re done. Get on with the cutting” – Jim jeered with a toothy grin.

“I can’t” – Joe turned to Jim with wide eyes, one hand still on the necklace, which he pulled towards himself with enough strength to drag the body along.

“Of course you can, just do it already. Or do you want me to do the cutting, after all?” – Jim frowned.

“You don’t understand” – The round colleague shook his head – “I can’t get my hand off this thing!” – Anxiety shone through in his expression, voice echoing with a tinge of panic.

“What are you on about…” – Leaning down, Jim grumbled, only to tug at the stuck hand with his own to little effect. He frowned – “What the…” – Getting a more comfortable position, he placed his right hand on the necklace, the other still on his colleagues hand and pulled apart through gritted teeth – the result being the same as before. Yet this time, he swore under his breath – “Shit” – He glared at the necklace clutching hand, pulling it towards himself – Joe trying to do the same only in the opposite direction. Yet to the obvious dismay of both of them – neither hand seemed to come away.

The two struggled and swore and as they did, the amulet began to glow. It was a barely noticeable glow at first, but then it became stronger, clearer – a transparent red sheen that seemed ready to fill the whole chamber. Slowly, it enveloped their stuck appendages, climbing higher still just as the sense of panic did for the two unfortunate men. They pulled and pushed, dragging the motionless body with them everywhere they went – the accessory’s chain holding firmly around the neck. As the glow reached shoulder-height, Joe released a squealing curse, lifting the still-held saw and aiming it at his own hand – a mad glow shining in his eyes. Red. Just like the light given off by the amulet.

Too busy with his own problem was Jim to notice the insane move, yet he needed not intervene, because as soon as the saw was close to its target, Joe seemed to freeze up and so did Jim. As if struck by electricity, the two shook and convulsed, their bodies jerking this way and that – the saw all but forgotten as it clattered to the ground and to the opposite corner. Slowly, their skin began to wrinkle and crack, while their bodies started to wither like fruit that had their juices sucked out. Their struggles completely ceased as this process went in full swing, the two slumping powerlessly to the ground as their bodies gave away to whatever sudden decay assailed them, sucking out their life until nothing but dry skin and bones remained – yet not stopping until even that was taken away. Finally, the red glow seemed to recede back into itself, allowing the forgotten lamp to take back its rightful place as the primary light-giver, while both Joe and Jim were now nothing more than piles of dust – with even their clothes reduced to ashes.

It was at this point that the figure – lifeless until mere moments ago - suddenly twitched, the upper body shooting up in a burst of energy, hands against the ground for purchase.

“Huh? What?” – His voice coming out in a low, wet gargle. He coughed foully and laughed. At first, it was a mild chuckle, only to turn into a cackle, followed by an almost ceaseless laugh, the likes either the euphoric or absolutely insane could only manage – “I knew it! I’m an absolute genius!” – Finally, as his laughter died away into sparse bursts, hands shooting up into the air, the male figure exclaimed merrily, the display of joy freezing up somewhat a moment later – “Wait…curses! I can’t see!” – He shouted, hands lowering only to be crossed above his chest, shoulders hunched – “I knew the agreement seemed too good to be true…” – He added in no more than a whisper – “Fuck! Am I to be blind for…” – The energy returning, he swore, hands shooting up to hold onto his head – the words stuck in his throat as soon as they touched the bag that was still covering his head. With gusto, he pulled away the bag, pale green eyes narrowing at the sudden light. Through the muck and dried blood, a youth of elegant and gentle features glared about from beneath bushy eyebrows – pronounced cheekbones giving him an almost mischievous look, while his medium length, light-brown hair – messy and soaked in blood – gave of a peculiar softness that contrasted with his sculpted features, giving it an almost womanly charm. The youth suddenly grinned, a set of healthy, white teeth in full display, following that up with a satisfied laugh.

“Hah! Of course everything is fine!” – He said to no one in particular – “A rare moment of confusion, understandable, knowing the circumstance…” – The shout soon dropping down in volume and shifting into a mere whisper. He proceeded to stand up, dust off and looked  around, eyes on the discarded lamp – “I suppose I should get back home” – He bent down, picked up the lamp, one foot stepping into a pile of dust nearby – only to scatter it into the air from the sudden contact. The youth stepped away, cursing – “Somebody should really clean this shithole up” – Complaining, he looked around, eyes soon falling onto the staircase, which he then proceeded to ascend – visibly hesitating at the very top, just before stopping through a still-open doorway.

“Wait…I have a home?” – He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. For a moment he stood there, silent, head eventually tilting to the side, slightly – which was then followed by an almost dismissive shrug – “I guess I do” – And just like that – he left the scene.

*******

The night was grim and full of flashes, as a storm raged above the sprawling castle-city of Syl’ward and no corner was left untouched by the downpour that accompanied it. Where light flickered - cast by pale blue shards of unknown material, held-up by poles of metal – colors were made more vibrant, glistering. Yet where there was none of that gentle glow, the gloomy corners were made to look even more inhospitable. Unwelcoming. A contrast that plagues all the civilized world, wherever you may look – the poetic depictions of both the underworld and what lay beyond it and under the sun – where the upper echelon would bask in the light, held atop all those beneath. No different was this city, for on the upper-reaches – sprawled behind the inner walls – were mansions of luxury, havens for the powerful – their streets plentifully lighted and patrolled by armed individuals of luxurious armor, armed with spear and shield. Their eyes narrowed, ever vigilant for anything that may seem unsavory or out of place, like a pedestrian so late at night, when only few would travel – a time when the underworld turns to wakefulness, when laws of the civilized world grow tout. Alternatively, the lower-most parts of the acropolis like city seemed almost deserted and abandoned to the dark – for barely a few small pockets of light lingered here and there between the hunched together shacks, casting pale shadows around the corners of narrow streets that crisscrossed almost chaotically.

Creatures both small and human sized crawled and darted about, passing by what little light they encountered, their steps hastened – as if desperate to once again hide away under the comforting shroud of darkness. Such behavior was not shared by a particular figure that walked the narrow streets almost casually – a lanky youth dressed in stained and torn rags that might have once been considered as extravagant attire was posturing in an almost haughty manner as he walked – back straight, shoulders back, chin raised, while narrowed eyes of pale green slid about almost derisively. The night life seemed to shrink away from his path, giving way to the brazen advance, yet keeping watch from the darkest shadows as if drawn to his shining confidence. Their attention – easily mistaken for innocent curiosity, could just as easily be the gleeful attention of the malicious – waiting with anticipation for a mishap. For something bad to happen.

With passing interest, the youth continued on while giving nothing more than a glance towards such shrouded spectators, his eyes more often than not traveling over the wet stone pavement he walked on, the wood-framed, two-story buildings that flanked it – their walls cracked and stained black from old age and neglect.

Stepping in and out of the light cast by the occasional light-pole, the youth walked with purpose, taking a sudden turn to the left as a fork in his path emerged – not a second wasted in hesitation. His eyebrows seemed to furrow at that.

“It really does feel like I’ve been here a thousand times before and yet…” – He mumbled under his nose.

“Who’s there?!” – A sudden, loud shout seemed to wake him from whatever revere he had, while the echoes of hastened steps clanking against stone reached his ears – a pale light now seen approaching from behind another bend in the path some distance away. Moments later, two figures emerged into the narrow street, both looking like apparitions of pale metal and red cloth, their features hidden behind helmets with narrow slits for eyes and mouth, nothing but darkness seen through them. They held plain tower-shields – the shorter ends angling sharply to form rectangular forms, while a long black cudgel was wielded in their free hand of the foremost figure – the tip of it glowing in a similar color as the source of light they brought – a pale blue that spread from a glowing rock attached to a long pole that the figure furthest away carried – “State your civil number or submit to detention!” – An ominous echo came from the foremost apparition, as it stepped closer, gilded feet clacking loudly against the stone pavement.

“And what if I don’t?” – Billy’s lips peeled back to reveal a toothy grin, one hand raising up with the index finger pointing at the two – who seemed to freeze up for a moment as the action was complete. A transparent sheen seemed to flash along the target’s outline and Billy’s sneer soon turned into a scowl.

“He’s a magician!” – With another shout, the formerly approaching apparition side-glanced at the colleague behind and with a twist of an armored shoulder, resumed the march – although, in an obviously quicker gait – “You are violating curfew young mage! Submit or face the consequences!” – The demand now booming with an even more pronounced authority.

Billy took a step back, swearing under his breath – his finger still pointed at the approaching foe and almost shaking in its intensity. With an audible grunt, the youth shifted forward with his whole body, practically shoving the finger towards the indicated target – yet as he did, a wet cough racked his chest, a free hand raising to contain it, only to come away bloody. Eyes wide, staggering, he backed away just as the armored figure finally approached him – the cudgel raised high in preparations to strike.

A weak swear slipped out of the youth a mere second away from descent and with almost inhuman speed – the victim was pummeled until he was down on the ground, bruised and unconscious – the tool rising and descending in almost mechanical order for a bit longer than visibly necessary.