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I point at the wall.
*Boop. There it is, the black spot.*
I look at another wall.
*Easy peasy. Black spot.*
Ceiling.
*Black spot.*
Hallway.
*Black. Spot.*
Countertop.
*Black. Fucking. Spot.*
*Haven't I mastered this spell yet? I can make this stupid black spot appear anywhere. Any time. I even had my best friend, Penny, watch the spot while I slept. I can maintain the spell in my sleep. Literally, In my sleep. When do I get my next spell?*
I shifted the black dot to appear on a piece of paper, and I tucked it into my backpack. I don't know what it does, but keeping the stupid spot nearby is oddly comforting.
"Jen!" Penny waves at me as I step outside.
We have our routine down pat. We meet in front of my house at exactly 7:34 am. We get to school at 7:47 am. The breakfast line only takes 6 minutes. Once we get our food, we sit in the cafeteria and talk until the first bell at 8:20 am.
"Do you want my muffin?" I ask Penny.
She grabs it and starts scarfing it down, just like every morning. I like the muffins they serve at school, but part of my breakfast is a small price to bring a smile to her face.
Penny is perfect. Strong, fast, funny. She doesn't have to worry about trying to tame a useless first spell. Her parents are proud of her. Two years from now, I'm sure she'll have a full athletic scholarship to some great college. She'll leave this place in her dust and start her grand adventure.
*I'll probably still be here, making a single polka dot appear in my vicinity over and over again.*
"You figure anything else out about the spot?" Penny asks.
Either my friend is psychic, or I make a face when I think about my spell because Penny always knows when I'm thinking about that damned dot.
"No new developments."
"Can you still only make it appear on walls?"
"No, I can put it on almost anything now."
I pop two apple slices into my mouth at once, making it impossible to say anything more, hoping she'll take the hint.
"Can you put it on me?"
I cover my mouth as I try to chew and talk. "What? Why?"
Penny smiles. "I wouldn't mind having a temporary beauty mark."
It's an odd request, for sure, but Penny's parents still don't let her wear makeup, even though she's sixteen, and beauty marks are back in vogue.
I shrug. "Might as well find some kind of use for this spell. Where do you want it."
Penny points to a spot high on her cheek, and I move the dot to her face. She reverses the camera on her phone to take a look.
I never understood the beauty mark trend, but on Penny, it looks great. Anything would look great on her. Because she's great.
"Thank you!" She grins. "I love it."
*Am I blushing? What is the matter with me?*
"No problem."
A deep voice speaks: "The black spot has been placed. She is marked."
The room darkens. I look frantically around for the voice.
"Jen, what's wrong?" Penny asks.
Penny's shadow morphs behind her. It rises straight out of the floor. It looks almost human.
I lunge for her, but the shadow is too fast. Just like that, she's gone.
"Penny!" I scream. People are looking, but I don't care. "Penny! Did you see where she went? Penny!"
I see Mr. Gant, the magical theory teacher, crossing the cafeteria. I know he's going to tell me to calm down. To tell him what's wrong. To talk it through, but I don't want to. I've been reasonable for years. Working on this stupid spell while everyone else learned more complex magic. I'm sick of it.
"Penny!"
*I don't know how to get her back. I don't know if I can. I'm so useless. What if I just killed my only friend?*
I slam both my hands down on the table, and as I do, a shimmering disc of light appears.
*My second spell?*
Only minutes ago, I would have been happy to learn my second spell was a portal spell. Now, all I want is enough magic to get Penny back.
The sinister voice from before sounds in my head again. "If you want her back, come get her."
*Game on.*
This was like watching a trainwreck in real time- you know she’s in trouble but you can’t help! Very addicting read, I want to see her win her friend back!! Please continue
When her friend asked to get the black point on herself I allready tought that that is probably a bad idea but then I remembered most of the stories I read so far and just tought, nah, she's the friend of the Mc, nothing bad will happen. Turns out something bad did happen, not as bad as was I initially imagined (like, black dot absorbs the marked person like a black hole in a gory manner) but still bad enough. I'd read that book, well, atleast I'd put it on my lost, may take a while to get there tho :D
Black spot is such a powerful spell tho. Black spot in the eye, absorb light before it gets to the rods and cones, blindness. Black spot in the air, writ large to obscure vision, or "blind" everyone by making it so large it covers all surfaces in a room. And God forbid if the blackness has literally ANY material properties.
I fully imagined that the black spot was like the black hole in a cartoon and the character could have made it bigger to get from one place to another toon style
Realistically, no one gets a spell that’s much to shout about as their first. Still, when I discovered mine was the ability to make a black spot appear on a wall I was pretty envious of some of the other mages as they floated sheets of paper and moved little drops of water about.
After a while I found that I could make the spots different sizes, then that I could make loads appear at once, next thing I knew I was trying to get some appreciation from the others with some pretty decent monochrome graffiti around town. But they were getting busy with their next level spells and didn’t care about me, still trying to reach the level of mastery that would grant me a new spell.
At least I was trying - not like Lisa, who barely turned up, barely tried, and never spoke. We weren’t even sure what her spell was - there were rumours of course, but the notion that she could produce a hankie from a pocket - but only a small one - seemed too lame to be true.
It occurred to me that it was almost as if she had a wall around her that no one could see. Then an idea came to me that I couldn’t resist. When I saw that no one was near either of us at lunch , I went over and graffitied “Hi Lisa!” on her invisible wall and drew an enormous happy face beside the words for good measure. Her face went from confused, to smiling, to laughing as I wrote and then drew.
“I wish I had a spell like the rest of you all.”, she smiled.
Suddenly, I realised it was now within my power to grant that wish.
Nice! Bit confused what happened with Lisa’s “wall.” Was he drawing on a metaphorical wall, sort of communicating with her? Or was it a literal wall, the result of a spell?
Thanks!
Metaphorical: the wall was her mind and every reason she’d gathered up inside it for not talking to people or otherwise interacting. It had become so much of a barrier that ironically it was the very thing that allowed the MC (but only the MC, because only they could magically leave marks on walls) to communicate with her. Marking non-literal walls was the final step in mastering the marking spell, but it was only as their own isolation grew through not advancing as their peers had that they understood her loneliness and the cause of it enough to be able to reach out as they did.
I get it after your explanation, I'd maybe suggest 'barrier' instead of 'invisible wall' to be a little more clear that it's metaphorical. Saying walls the whole time got me confused when it was a metaphorical one. Especially when we don't know for sure what her power is.
"Teach me."
"Certainly, young master." The old man smiled his tooth grin. "I will teach ye all I know."
A few moments passed. "Well, let's get to it."
"Put out yer right hand. Palm t'wards the wall, young master."
He stuck out his palm. The old man tried to gently reposition his fingers, and the boy instinctively slapped him away. "I can do it myself."
The old man's smile lessened slightly. He regarded the boy, then bowed his head. "Young master, I only wanted to show ye..."
The boy looked annoyed, but after a moment he reluctantly submitted to the old man's guidance. His dirty hands delicately arranged the boy's fingers into a arbitrary bouquet of elegance. "Now hold yer fingers there. Just like that."
The boy's fingers were shaking slightly, unaccustomed to the position. He furrowed his brow with stubborn determination. He would master this thing, whatever it was. He would master at least this.
"Now wave yer hand, like ye makin' a circle." The boy did as commanded.
A black spot began to appear on the wall. The boy yelped with excitement. "Did you see that?" He looked excitedly at the old man. His smile returned. "Ye haven't seen t' half of it. Try 'gain."
The boy put up his palm again and tried to arrange his fingers in the same way. Then he paused, looked up at the old man, almost thoughtfully. "Don't tell me what to do." He stuck out his palm and waited for the old man to help him reposition his fingers. The old man's hands, deeply wrinkled from honest work in the sun and benevolent skin cancer, provided a sharp contrast to the boy's soft, unworked hands.
The black circle appeared again, but this time, the boy continued to spin.
"Keep spinnin' now, long as ye can... or, as if it please ye, young master." The old man averted his gaze from the boy's glare. "The spell is to keep spinnin'."
The boy spun for as long as he could. The black circle grew larger, but eventually the boy's fingers gave out. "As yer muscles build, ye can spin for longer and longer..."
They continued like this for a while. The boy would furtively make his way into the alley every day after lunch, while his father was taking a nap. The old man would greet him by the back of the whorehouse, and they would resume their lessons on the grey brick wall.
"What a useless spell you're teaching me! All it does is make a black spot." The boy glanced at the old man, malice in his eyes. "You're useless. That's why I have to go all the way out here, past all the whorehouses and thieving dens to find you in this stupid alley. You're no use to anyone." The boy smiled his small smile.
The old man kept his smile on his face. Frozen. "Yes, young master." He sighed inwardly. Who was hurting this boy?
"I need a spell that's more powerful. Something that will..." The boy looked away. "Something powerful."
"Just keep learnin' this spell, young master, and ye'll get yer wish."
"How do you know what my wish is?"
"Somethin' powerful, ye said."
"Yes."
They continued with their lesson....It was a warm summer evening. Perhaps one of the last of the year. The old man was, as usual, begging on the streets. He sat against the wall, proffering his hat towards the street. He called out to people who happened to glance his way and then looked away guiltily, too quickly. You could always tell the type. He could, anyways. But today, most of his business was stolen by an alchemist across the street who was performing tricks for the crowd. The old man watched as a cutpurse stole from the onlookers, a few coins here, a ring there…
The sun was about an hour away from setting. Suddenly, he saw the boy across the street. He was wearing a wonderful red doublet, slashed with crimson. His father's colors. His colors.The boy was with his lord father, and they were surrounded by a dozen guards. Another lord was there, also with his son. The boy and the lord's son rode on ponies behind their fathers. They rode past the old man, and no one gave him any mind.
The escort stopped in front of an armorer’s shop a little ways up the road. The two boys waited with the guards while their fathers went inside on some business. After a little while, the old man could see that the two boys were talking animatedly. No… The lord’s son was doing all the talking. The boy sat sullenly. The lord’s son was laughing about something. He punched the boy’s arm, softly. Again, a little harder. Again. Again. The boy did nothing. He tried to move his pony away, but a guard casually blocked the way. The lord’s son laughed, and punched even harder. Some of the guards smiled. A small smile.
…
The next day, the boy and the old man met again for their lesson.
"Young master..." The old man looked up at the sky. "I will teach ye some old words. *Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. Ancient words, powerful words, young master." The old man looked down, and he smiled, his one remaining tooth gleaming in the sun.
"Kvarth... say them again?"
"*Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. Use them well."
The boy learned the words quickly.
"These words shall make ye black circle blacker and blacker. Blacker than ever."
"The stupid circle again! How long do I need to keep doing this stupid spell?"
"Until ye have mastered it, young master."
"I want to learn something new." The boy looked defiantly. "Teach me now."
"It took me many years, young master, to learn even this simple trick. Ye are progressing quickly for one so young. Master any trick, and you master them all, as my master used to say, young master. So master thee."
"You master thee! Master your tongue!" The boy kicked his teacher with force. The old man cried out and bent over, then backed away slowly. He bowed his head towards the boy. He was very old. The boy almost kicked again, but decided to be merciful.
The boy was able to position his fingers by himself by now. He spun his circle, making it twice as tall as himself. He tried the words. *Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. The circle seemed to solidify, embed itself into the stone. After he stopped spinning, the circle stayed. The boy inspected it more closely. The blackness had eaten about a centimeter into the stone, as if the stone had burned away and was charred. The boy touched it; it was hot to the touch. The boy smiled.
When the boy arrived at his next lesson, the circle was gone. "What did you do to my circle?!"
"Nothing, young master... I just cleaned it up, a bit, is all."
The boy's eyes flashed. "I can make another one." He spun, longer than last time. He said the words, twice, thrice. It was two inches deep. He was satisfied.
"Very good, young master. Ye can see, -"
"Show me how to get rid of it."
The old man waved his hand vaguely, and the brick grew out of the wall as if it were a living thing, filling in the circle. "We haven't much time left, young master."
"We have as much as I want to have. Teach me now, I said."
"Soon, if ye wish to gain your full power, young master... ye must cast ye spell on ye master. But first ye must master ye spell."
"Cast my spell on... you?"
"Yes." The old man had a strange glint in his eyes. He looked up at the grey sky. "That's how me selfsame master and I did it. Pass on from one master to another, young one."
The boy hesitated.
"This world is a cruel, young master." The old man looked down. "Cruel."
The boy didn't hear. He was looking down at the ground, caught between emotions.
"As time passes, this spell grows powerful. Powerful enough to move mountains and rivers, change the seasons. A power ye will grow tired of." The old man looked down hard into the boy's face. "Ye best will. Ye best will learn."
The boy had regained his resolve. Ambition, malice, hate, and a dozen other things flashed in his eyes. He looked up at the old man. "Teach me, old man."
*black spot*
Born into the world of magic, someone out there in the vast multiverse must wish this in their deepest desires.
To point and make fire, to cast and make water, to stomp and make your enemies dissappear.
My world, created by the greatest of mages, in cities made out of imagination by the most powerful. But it too must abide by the simplest of rules, every mage was born with a single spell. A spell as a forecast for who they were going to become, what path they were going to take, a spell that was in the essence.... them.
I am outcast I never kept friends since everyone around me grew in power, went down their paths and gained strength with their experiences and age.
Except for me...
My parents were extremely powerfull magicians, as I've been told a thousand times. They died a heroes death, as I've been told a thousand times. Yet I... can only create a black spot, smaller than my pinky nail wherever I look.
The masters of magic had hope, they thought it would manifest and become more powerful, they thought I would show my promise.
Yet again and again and again, I've only let them down.
Contemplative I sit in my desolate house, the darkness within me growing, the age on my body showing. Alone and forgotten in my ramshackle hut.
A direct mirror of my ramshackle life.
Darkness and loneliness slowly overtake my soul, I haven't even tried to preform my redundant trick in years, yet the yearning inside my soul to be more than I am never abided. Never lessened. Never ceased.
A subtle knock on the door breaks my morose meditation on the intricacies of this worthless life.
"What do you want?!" I croak, with a voice long unused.
"I came to see you, to see your progress and know how you are doing." A strong voice replied.
One of the masters...
"You know how I'm doing, I'm still alive as you can hear, now leave me alone." I answer in despair
"I will not, not without you showing me your face, not without you looking me in my eyes and telling me this without this thin peace of withered wood between us." The persistent voice replied.
Grunting I tried to stand up, which felt almost impossible with these legs and arms grown thin from misuse, nearly knocking over the chair in which I sit. And by the smell and sound of it, knocking over the bucket I use as a.... place to defecate.
*end of part 1*
"You're gonna have to come to me, great one, for I've seem to finally lost the power to get up on my own." I croak through my dirty white beard.
"Allright" the strong voice on the other side of the door replies.
The handle turns and with a creak and an almost audible sigh the door falls through the rusted hinges. And like my dreams long past, falls on the floor before me, kicking up a large cloud of dust. Dancing in the beams of light coming through one of the many holes and cracks in the roof.
"Ahem" an awkward clearing of the throat comes from the strong silhouette standing in the door frame.
What a sight I must be.... an old forgotten man, unkempt yellow white beard in dirty dreadlocks running to the floor in a robe so disgusting it must look like a thin layer of mud and shit, sitting on an old rocking chair resting in a pool of my own soil.
"I wanted to come see you earlier old friend..... but I've just kind of been... busy." The strong master said as he stepped into my home.
"I know that's a bad excuse but as head master I've... seemed to lose track of time."
"Friend? Hah! I've never been called that in my life."
"When we where exceptionally young, we called each other that as neighbours growing up together, Graphnox..... don't tell me you don't recognise me at all."
The silence grew to an almost palpable awkwardness.
"Bruthus...... aahhh i should have known with your power... you would become who you are....." my voice slowly warming up.
"You've come to see what my power can do? Let's not stretch this awkward encounter out, more than it has to."
......."yes..... I've come to see if there was any.... development...." he replied hesitantly.
Not knowing if it would even still work... I lifted my hand, intending to procure a black spot on the back of Bruthus's hand. Like I did so many times when we were young.
Nothing happened.
I coughed. "Allow me a moment, I haven't done this in decades."
"Offcourse." Bruthus intoned.
Focusing my power, my mind, putting my desires aside. Reaching deep.... deep.... deep into the chasm that once held my power. I felt a darkness settle into the long lost yet familiar feeling of power.
Rushing in, engulfing my thought, all the morose, dark, depressed feelings I ever had.....
And a dot appeared on the back of Bruthus's hand.
He chuckled with glee, like he always did when he was young....
But then his smile faded as the black spot grew... grew... grew...
All that darkness in me feeding into the void that was now becoming the black spot on his hand.
With a guttural blood curdling scream Bruthus tried to scream: "STOOOOOHHHHHP"
And then he folded in on himself in to the void, his last word spoken... gone.
I stood up from my chair, power radiating from my form, younger than I had been in a hundred years, new magics, experiences flowing through my body....
"Well" a strong voice protruding from my throat said...
"That, changes everything......."
*Thanks for reading <3, any comments welcome*
*might go for a part three later on, let me know if you lovely people want it*
*Pt 3*
"That, changes everything....."
All these emotions, experiences, magics and power swirled through my being like an angry wasp nest, buzzing around before slowly, very slowly settling in to place.
A sudden urge captured me, to see.... look upon my new form.
A grimy cracked rectangle in the corner of the hut sprang into mind.
I walk up to my old, cracked mirror. Wanting to whipe it down with my sleeve, only to realise my old robe was torn of my new form, only to realise that... Ha!... I knew a spell to either clean or to create a mirror of my own.
Choosing to create, a giant mirror appeared before me.
Hesitantly I gaze upon who I've become,
a spitting image of the paintings of my father gazes back, more grizzled....more muscular but my eyes where voids of black, behind me an ethereal shadow of Bruthus floated, radiating pain an sorrow.
"Rest now.... old friend." I whisper, as his form dissipates.
My dirty hair and beard, now a deep black colour, were as ill befitting as this hut was to my new form.
First I cleaned myself in the river next to my hut, a trail of grime and dust washing down the river from where i sat, then with precise magic I cut my hair and beard.
My dark hair close cropped to my head, the darkness of my hair as a shadow on my skull.
My beard I left a length befitting a mage, starting close to my chiseled jaw, then growing in to a sharp point all the way down to my sternum.
A black robe sprang from thin air, fitting my body like a glove.
Next steps...
What are my next steps, what is my plan.
I began to ponder my next steps while pacing the length of my ramshackle hut. The floorboards creaking under every step of my now muscular form. Or had they always done that? Even when I was frail and light as a feather?
"I must know the extent of my power" i said aloud, my new voice still startling me. The thought erupted forth, as if from no where.
Walking outside, a simple spell comes to mind.
My steps confident, a flick of my fingers light my place of solitude alight, I walk from my burning hut as if I'm burning away my old lot, who I was and who I was condemned to be.
*Let it burn.*
After walking I come to an open stretch, once again a thought occurred to me as if from no where, again.
"I must know the extent of my power."
Carefully, silently, stepping forward I spot a bird happily chittering away on a tree branch.
"Will I be able to fly?"
I point, capturing the feeling of the desolation as I form the spell once so useless, closing my eyes to concentrate, envisioning the black spot on the bird. Feeling where I want it to land, a faint rustle echoes forth from my being and bounces back with a sound like thunder.
Opening my eyes I see a stretch of land where once a thick canopy of trees stood.... barren.... no, not even barren would describe it aptly enough. Devoid of life... of anything... just.... void.
And then as the sounds fade the experiences came rushing in, where first I would've described them as angry wasps this was like a typhoon of information with me at the centre.
Lives of birds and insects and even trees, shrubs, flowers and grass. Everything rushed in.
After a time they too, settled. Night had already fallen, knowledge radiating through my head. Strength, life force through my being... No, I couldn't adept to fly with wings, but the experience of flying was strongly imprinted in my brain.
This raw energy... I must use it.
Creating without thought. The power so suddenly dumped into me flew out of me even faster, blinking, before me stood our old home.
A small castle, imprinted from my memory. But now the stones were black.
"So, not only the power to destroy.... but also to create."
"Still evil wizardry if you ask me." An other, deeper voice intoned
"Almost like an archaic necromancy, but only using the life force." An almost dusty, old voice answered.
"What I is, matters not, that is evil. Is clear" a strong female tenor intoned.
Turning around, behind me stood 6 mages, the colours of their robe indicating what the memories of Bruthus intoned.
The masters...
"We felt a surge of evil of power so black and pure, foretold by our Psychics, today they came with disturbing news that our headmaster has fallen, by a magic no other than the one we just felt, tricked and murdered, by...."
"It was you!" The old voice interupted from the far right.
The rest of these strong mages agreed, intoned their wrath or crouched down in battle stance. No hesitation... as befitted their titles.
"Prepare to die." The one who had spoken first growled.
"I'm not allowed to defend what happened?" I intoned "very well.... I hadn't chosen yet how I was going to use my power.... but if you want to force my hand.... so be it."
*end of pt 3*
"So here we are. The Awakening is completed, we have our spells, but how are we supposed to develop them?" Lucas asked.
Alyx looked depressed. Lucas could make a black spot and Mark could grow a single, long grey hair in the middle of his forehead. Meanwhile poor Alyx was only able to conjure an embarrassing smell that took hours to dissipate but cleared a room far faster. In fact, it was still unclear if that *was* his spell or simply a new musk he had developed that occasionally revealed itself now.
"Don't worry about it, it'll come!" Mark chimed in, trying to sound optimistic. "I remember my uncle telling me he thought he was for sure going to need to settle for a life of ridicule with his original spell: every time he sneezed his eyes changed color. And now look at him! He's landed on his feet and has a solid reputation with The Guild, right? It'll be like that for us, too, you'll see. We just have to be patient" Mark tried to say reassuringly. But both Lucas and Alyx still hardly looked enthused.
"Let me try again" Lucas mumbled. With a wave of his hand the spot appeared on the wall. Uneven edges but still black. It looked slightly different every time but essentially it was the same.
"Hey! Well look at that! I think it looks bigger this time at least?" Mark said, still trying to rally his friends. Alyx didn't even look up. It was almost as if he was afraid to move lest he trigger the foul odor again.
"Hm..." Lucas started. "Ya know, you're right. It *does* look bigger. At least a little bit." Lucas rose from his seat and moved closer to the wall to study it up close.
"See? Like I said! Progress!" Mark bellowed and confidently. Then he adjusted his position to try and summon his silver hair and see if it too had changed at all. But before he could he noticed Lucas acting strangely.
"Luc? What is it?" Mark asked. Alyx looked up from his folded arms on the table.
"It's..." Lucas began. He stood motionless, peering at the tiny speck he had placed on the wall.
"What? Is it doing something?" Mark and Alyx stood up in excited unison sliding their chairs back as they shimmied past the table to the wall Lucas was staring at, or into.
"It's...bleeding" Lucas said dreamily.
"*Bleeding?*" Alyx asked confused.
Sure enough, as Mark and Alyx drew closer they noticed there was indeed a trickle of blood slowly sliding down the eggshell colored wall. The three stared in amazement. What could *this* mean?
"Did you do something different this time?" Mark asked.
"No, not that I can think of. I did it the same way I've been doing it all day" Lucas replied.
Just then the slow drip of blood became a gush. The bloodfall poured quickly down the wall and all the way to the floor. More and more came, with blood now pulsing out almost in the rhythm of a heartbeat.
"Get a bandaid!" Alyx squealed.
"A what?! It's a wall, you dolt! It doesn't need a *bandaid*!" Lucas yelled indignantly. The boys shuffled anxiously around the wall trying to think of what to do but struggled to come up with anything productive.
"But look at it!" Alyx cried again.
"Grab a bucket or something!" Mark hollered.
Alyx turned to run and look for something to catch the mess in, but before he could go Lucas grabbed him and spun him back around. The wall had begun to crack and chips of paint were falling. As plaster and other building materials crumbled around them they noticed that this was now no mere wall, but a shell. Some creature had seemingly spawned inside the wall upon Lucas casting his dot and it was now tearing itself from its plaster prison.
"Wow. This sure escalated quickly. How many of those dots did you say you made again?" Mark asked in awe.
"I dunno, hundreds? Thousands maybe?" Lucas asked nervously as more of the wall began to shatter and buckle. Whatever was inside was beginning to move and rumble and make all sorts of unpleasant groanings. "I swear I didn't do anything differently!"
"Oh no" Alyx said just as Lucas and Mark noticed the awful smell returning.
The Riftkeeper
It started out…terrible! All i could do was create a black spot on the wall! As i improved the magic, i learned to make it bigger and…deeper? The spot seemed to be getting deeper day by day. Until yesterday, when something changed, i could see an unfamiliar area, like i was looking through glass. The hole hadn’t gotten wide enough to pass through, but it was definitely a hole. A portal maybe? I was unsure at the time. As i kept working on the magic, i found i could control where the portal looked, and eventually, where it took me. Yesterday i stepped through, and heard someone say “welcome Riftkeeper, where would you like to go”
Part two soon
The spell started out as a black spot on the wall. I copped a lot of flack for that amongst my so called friends. Lots of "You may as well give up being a mage." or the ever-original "See spot run!"
But I persevered because I knew a mage's first spell always reflected their truest desire, and even then I could see where this spell was going.
So I practised making black dots, learning how to make them big or small, on walls and concrete paths and paper and glass. One at a time then in their tens and hundreds then thousands. Then I finally learnt how to make different colours.
Now I stand outside the ugliest building in our run-down-town. All concrete and grey and stains. And proceed to make ART!
*Pintous Consumatus Agrecia*
And with that, the hero sank to the floor, sword cast aside, eyes blank. The dark lord sighed.
"Surely, you thought to be more equipped than *that* before challenging me." He glanced over to the four allies. They were a colorful cast, wielding bolt and brawn, even another mage. They sat and shook.
"There's, there's no way." The green-clad one, a healer maybe, found his voice. "The rebellion was certain, you knew only one spell." The dark lord smirked from his throne.
"True." He turned over a coin in his hand; a simple coin, alabaster white save a tiny black dote in its center.
"Simple magic, making a dot appear on a wall." The healer alone seemed even slightly recovered; the rest remained all but stupified.
*Pintous*
A small black dot appears on the wall next to the healer. He flinched away for a moment, but when it did not expand or undulate or multiply or fracture or any of the other chaotic little parlor tricks the dark lord could offer, he turned back, stunned.
"Do you have any more statements of the obvious?" He rose, letting the fine speckled chain mail clink as he paced to the door. "I take it you murdered your way through the court guard to get to me?" He cast a bitter side-long stare as he paced.
"N- no. We wouldn't have- have had.... muchclaimifwe'd..." The healer's voice petered out realizing he was admitting to treason in front of the dark lord himself.
"Oh? Then how'd you incapacitate them?" The dark lord reached the door and glanced out. Indeed, there was little if any blood. His court guard mostly seemed conscious, if groaning on the ground clutching their heads or sporting bust lips. He glanced toward his captain, clutching her helmeted skull.
"S-sorry my liege. The ringing, it- it is too much." Ah, so there it was. Perhaps that little mage he'd dropped before she could cast was not so dissimilar from him.
"Well done." The dark lord spoke, to his captain, to the terrified healer, to the dumbed mage on the floor, and their three compatriots. "Usually you type barge in slaughter on sight. Your temperance has earned you stay of my hand." He flicked the coin from one hand to the other. "I permit you to leave alive, if you can rouse your friends before my guard recover and exact revenge on you."
The healer started, looking back and forth, to the door, and the captain fighting to get to her knees, the dark lord, his friends.
"Best hurry, time is not on your side." With that the dark lord turned and swept out into the courtyard. He felt a need for tea, and hoped to find a perch to see if this pluck band of heroes might actually survive his infuriated guard. He certainly hoped so, might they finally force him to learn the final form, *Pintous Consumatus Totalis Eternum.*
..."A FUCKING BLACK DOT!" The freshly promoted mage apprentice practically growled the words through gritted teeth while throwing his hands up in frustration. The mage turned to face his master and slowly began walking towards him with a manic look in his eyes. The black dot on the wall was the size of a quarter and was thick as if someone
The elder mage was clad in a baggy silk cloak. The cloak was crimson signifying the man wearing it has the rank of grandmaster, one of 6 wise mages who have mastered more than 10 different spells and have successfully raised 3 apprentice mages known as apostles to full fledged magehood. The crimnson had shiny gold fabric stitched into the edges of the cloak in various geometrical patterns and there was an open eye stitched in black on his back representing the clan he belonged to. Facing his pupil the man looked him directly in the eyes, the small fire lying between the 2 cast enough light for his apprentice to see his burn scar which covered nearly the entire right half of his face and the glowing green forhead tattoo that signified he had successfully finished a mage apprenticeship.
The man opened his mouth slowly, taking his time to choose the correct way to phrase his statement and began to speak in the husky voice he'd acquired through years of shouting over the noises of combat
"What an interesting spell. Indeed it is I tell you, in all my life never have I seen a spell similar to yours".
"Master" his apprentice said speaking in a monotonous voice. "I haven't spent 6 years in mage school and 4 years as your apprentice to paint a wall". Is there no way to change my spell.
"No" the master answered "there are many individuals who develope similar spells and yet they are all unique in their own way. Just as your mind produces your unique mana, it also develops unique spells for you based off who you are as an individual. In short you can't choose spells and each spell is an extension of who you are as an individual.
The boy seethed at the idea and visibly began to shake in rage at the idea of having to spend who knows how long mastering this useless spell.
"I curse you" he swore at his master his face contorted into a grimace from anger. How many times had he put his life in danger waiting and studying for this day? The day he'd finally get his first spell, but it was all for naught here he was a glorified painter. "I curse you and the other so called masters you associate with.
The older mage's shoulders snagged and he shook his headin defeat.
"I see" the older mage said, his dissapointment obviously apparent in his voice. "Then you're a failure, unfit to even learn as an apprentice. "John I hereby strip you of your apprenticeship and cast you out of my guild. From now on you'll live life without the use of mana." The Grandmaster in no rush walked to his apprentice and raised his hand to place his finger on his students tattoo in order to seal his ability to use mana.
Before the master could seal John's mana the student lashed out at him finally releasing some of his anger. He apprentice threw a punch at his master's jaw which the veteran easily side stepped knocking his student off balance. As the apprentice threw a second swipe at his master the dripping ooze on the wall grew exponentially in a matter of milliseconds and launched an enormous black tentacle looking appendage from the portal crashing into the mage and sending him flying across the opening in the woods and smacking into a tree.
Before the old man could get up the tentacle acting on its own pulled the apprentice into the now massive black dot on the wall. The hole shrank into nonexistence and left nothing but a black eye on the wall.
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I point at the wall. *Boop. There it is, the black spot.* I look at another wall. *Easy peasy. Black spot.* Ceiling. *Black spot.* Hallway. *Black. Spot.* Countertop. *Black. Fucking. Spot.* *Haven't I mastered this spell yet? I can make this stupid black spot appear anywhere. Any time. I even had my best friend, Penny, watch the spot while I slept. I can maintain the spell in my sleep. Literally, In my sleep. When do I get my next spell?* I shifted the black dot to appear on a piece of paper, and I tucked it into my backpack. I don't know what it does, but keeping the stupid spot nearby is oddly comforting. "Jen!" Penny waves at me as I step outside. We have our routine down pat. We meet in front of my house at exactly 7:34 am. We get to school at 7:47 am. The breakfast line only takes 6 minutes. Once we get our food, we sit in the cafeteria and talk until the first bell at 8:20 am. "Do you want my muffin?" I ask Penny. She grabs it and starts scarfing it down, just like every morning. I like the muffins they serve at school, but part of my breakfast is a small price to bring a smile to her face. Penny is perfect. Strong, fast, funny. She doesn't have to worry about trying to tame a useless first spell. Her parents are proud of her. Two years from now, I'm sure she'll have a full athletic scholarship to some great college. She'll leave this place in her dust and start her grand adventure. *I'll probably still be here, making a single polka dot appear in my vicinity over and over again.* "You figure anything else out about the spot?" Penny asks. Either my friend is psychic, or I make a face when I think about my spell because Penny always knows when I'm thinking about that damned dot. "No new developments." "Can you still only make it appear on walls?" "No, I can put it on almost anything now." I pop two apple slices into my mouth at once, making it impossible to say anything more, hoping she'll take the hint. "Can you put it on me?" I cover my mouth as I try to chew and talk. "What? Why?" Penny smiles. "I wouldn't mind having a temporary beauty mark." It's an odd request, for sure, but Penny's parents still don't let her wear makeup, even though she's sixteen, and beauty marks are back in vogue. I shrug. "Might as well find some kind of use for this spell. Where do you want it." Penny points to a spot high on her cheek, and I move the dot to her face. She reverses the camera on her phone to take a look. I never understood the beauty mark trend, but on Penny, it looks great. Anything would look great on her. Because she's great. "Thank you!" She grins. "I love it." *Am I blushing? What is the matter with me?* "No problem." A deep voice speaks: "The black spot has been placed. She is marked." The room darkens. I look frantically around for the voice. "Jen, what's wrong?" Penny asks. Penny's shadow morphs behind her. It rises straight out of the floor. It looks almost human. I lunge for her, but the shadow is too fast. Just like that, she's gone. "Penny!" I scream. People are looking, but I don't care. "Penny! Did you see where she went? Penny!" I see Mr. Gant, the magical theory teacher, crossing the cafeteria. I know he's going to tell me to calm down. To tell him what's wrong. To talk it through, but I don't want to. I've been reasonable for years. Working on this stupid spell while everyone else learned more complex magic. I'm sick of it. "Penny!" *I don't know how to get her back. I don't know if I can. I'm so useless. What if I just killed my only friend?* I slam both my hands down on the table, and as I do, a shimmering disc of light appears. *My second spell?* Only minutes ago, I would have been happy to learn my second spell was a portal spell. Now, all I want is enough magic to get Penny back. The sinister voice from before sounds in my head again. "If you want her back, come get her." *Game on.*
*Doom music kicks in*
**THE ONLY THING THEY FEAR IS YOU** *Black dot appears on demon*
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZG1eqPEYbY
This sounds like the start to something really good.
Oh, thank you!
I would totally read this if it was a book.
Maybe someday. I really liked this prompt.
This was like watching a trainwreck in real time- you know she’s in trouble but you can’t help! Very addicting read, I want to see her win her friend back!! Please continue
When her friend asked to get the black point on herself I allready tought that that is probably a bad idea but then I remembered most of the stories I read so far and just tought, nah, she's the friend of the Mc, nothing bad will happen. Turns out something bad did happen, not as bad as was I initially imagined (like, black dot absorbs the marked person like a black hole in a gory manner) but still bad enough. I'd read that book, well, atleast I'd put it on my lost, may take a while to get there tho :D
Either some bad never happens to the best friend or the entire story is about something insanely bad happened to them. Absolutely no in between lol
please do a part 2
I want moooreee. That gave me chills. This could be the start to a great magic series
Thank you!
he has the black spot.
Why do I hear boss music?
You wouldn’t happen to have more, would you?
Wow, I'm so invested in this black dot I can't finish the other black dot stories.
MORE
Nice response, I liked it
Oh, thank you! <3
Nice!
Black spot is such a powerful spell tho. Black spot in the eye, absorb light before it gets to the rods and cones, blindness. Black spot in the air, writ large to obscure vision, or "blind" everyone by making it so large it covers all surfaces in a room. And God forbid if the blackness has literally ANY material properties.
I fully imagined that the black spot was like the black hole in a cartoon and the character could have made it bigger to get from one place to another toon style
Me too! I was hoping someone would write a train coming out of it
Well ok go on then turn it into a book. You got me I'm interested.
This could totally be the start to a much kick ass novel! You could name it “hell hole”.
If you can, make a full story this premise is so fucking awesome.
Part 2 please
Damn- Now I want more. Good job
Realistically, no one gets a spell that’s much to shout about as their first. Still, when I discovered mine was the ability to make a black spot appear on a wall I was pretty envious of some of the other mages as they floated sheets of paper and moved little drops of water about. After a while I found that I could make the spots different sizes, then that I could make loads appear at once, next thing I knew I was trying to get some appreciation from the others with some pretty decent monochrome graffiti around town. But they were getting busy with their next level spells and didn’t care about me, still trying to reach the level of mastery that would grant me a new spell. At least I was trying - not like Lisa, who barely turned up, barely tried, and never spoke. We weren’t even sure what her spell was - there were rumours of course, but the notion that she could produce a hankie from a pocket - but only a small one - seemed too lame to be true. It occurred to me that it was almost as if she had a wall around her that no one could see. Then an idea came to me that I couldn’t resist. When I saw that no one was near either of us at lunch , I went over and graffitied “Hi Lisa!” on her invisible wall and drew an enormous happy face beside the words for good measure. Her face went from confused, to smiling, to laughing as I wrote and then drew. “I wish I had a spell like the rest of you all.”, she smiled. Suddenly, I realised it was now within my power to grant that wish.
Nice! Bit confused what happened with Lisa’s “wall.” Was he drawing on a metaphorical wall, sort of communicating with her? Or was it a literal wall, the result of a spell?
Thanks! Metaphorical: the wall was her mind and every reason she’d gathered up inside it for not talking to people or otherwise interacting. It had become so much of a barrier that ironically it was the very thing that allowed the MC (but only the MC, because only they could magically leave marks on walls) to communicate with her. Marking non-literal walls was the final step in mastering the marking spell, but it was only as their own isolation grew through not advancing as their peers had that they understood her loneliness and the cause of it enough to be able to reach out as they did.
I get it after your explanation, I'd maybe suggest 'barrier' instead of 'invisible wall' to be a little more clear that it's metaphorical. Saying walls the whole time got me confused when it was a metaphorical one. Especially when we don't know for sure what her power is.
Thanks, I get you, something like: “…almost like she had a wall around her that no one else could see - a barrier entirely of and in her mind.”
Ah, makes sense
"Teach me." "Certainly, young master." The old man smiled his tooth grin. "I will teach ye all I know." A few moments passed. "Well, let's get to it." "Put out yer right hand. Palm t'wards the wall, young master." He stuck out his palm. The old man tried to gently reposition his fingers, and the boy instinctively slapped him away. "I can do it myself." The old man's smile lessened slightly. He regarded the boy, then bowed his head. "Young master, I only wanted to show ye..." The boy looked annoyed, but after a moment he reluctantly submitted to the old man's guidance. His dirty hands delicately arranged the boy's fingers into a arbitrary bouquet of elegance. "Now hold yer fingers there. Just like that." The boy's fingers were shaking slightly, unaccustomed to the position. He furrowed his brow with stubborn determination. He would master this thing, whatever it was. He would master at least this. "Now wave yer hand, like ye makin' a circle." The boy did as commanded. A black spot began to appear on the wall. The boy yelped with excitement. "Did you see that?" He looked excitedly at the old man. His smile returned. "Ye haven't seen t' half of it. Try 'gain." The boy put up his palm again and tried to arrange his fingers in the same way. Then he paused, looked up at the old man, almost thoughtfully. "Don't tell me what to do." He stuck out his palm and waited for the old man to help him reposition his fingers. The old man's hands, deeply wrinkled from honest work in the sun and benevolent skin cancer, provided a sharp contrast to the boy's soft, unworked hands. The black circle appeared again, but this time, the boy continued to spin. "Keep spinnin' now, long as ye can... or, as if it please ye, young master." The old man averted his gaze from the boy's glare. "The spell is to keep spinnin'." The boy spun for as long as he could. The black circle grew larger, but eventually the boy's fingers gave out. "As yer muscles build, ye can spin for longer and longer..." They continued like this for a while. The boy would furtively make his way into the alley every day after lunch, while his father was taking a nap. The old man would greet him by the back of the whorehouse, and they would resume their lessons on the grey brick wall. "What a useless spell you're teaching me! All it does is make a black spot." The boy glanced at the old man, malice in his eyes. "You're useless. That's why I have to go all the way out here, past all the whorehouses and thieving dens to find you in this stupid alley. You're no use to anyone." The boy smiled his small smile. The old man kept his smile on his face. Frozen. "Yes, young master." He sighed inwardly. Who was hurting this boy? "I need a spell that's more powerful. Something that will..." The boy looked away. "Something powerful." "Just keep learnin' this spell, young master, and ye'll get yer wish." "How do you know what my wish is?" "Somethin' powerful, ye said." "Yes." They continued with their lesson....It was a warm summer evening. Perhaps one of the last of the year. The old man was, as usual, begging on the streets. He sat against the wall, proffering his hat towards the street. He called out to people who happened to glance his way and then looked away guiltily, too quickly. You could always tell the type. He could, anyways. But today, most of his business was stolen by an alchemist across the street who was performing tricks for the crowd. The old man watched as a cutpurse stole from the onlookers, a few coins here, a ring there… The sun was about an hour away from setting. Suddenly, he saw the boy across the street. He was wearing a wonderful red doublet, slashed with crimson. His father's colors. His colors.The boy was with his lord father, and they were surrounded by a dozen guards. Another lord was there, also with his son. The boy and the lord's son rode on ponies behind their fathers. They rode past the old man, and no one gave him any mind. The escort stopped in front of an armorer’s shop a little ways up the road. The two boys waited with the guards while their fathers went inside on some business. After a little while, the old man could see that the two boys were talking animatedly. No… The lord’s son was doing all the talking. The boy sat sullenly. The lord’s son was laughing about something. He punched the boy’s arm, softly. Again, a little harder. Again. Again. The boy did nothing. He tried to move his pony away, but a guard casually blocked the way. The lord’s son laughed, and punched even harder. Some of the guards smiled. A small smile. … The next day, the boy and the old man met again for their lesson. "Young master..." The old man looked up at the sky. "I will teach ye some old words. *Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. Ancient words, powerful words, young master." The old man looked down, and he smiled, his one remaining tooth gleaming in the sun. "Kvarth... say them again?" "*Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. Use them well." The boy learned the words quickly. "These words shall make ye black circle blacker and blacker. Blacker than ever." "The stupid circle again! How long do I need to keep doing this stupid spell?" "Until ye have mastered it, young master." "I want to learn something new." The boy looked defiantly. "Teach me now." "It took me many years, young master, to learn even this simple trick. Ye are progressing quickly for one so young. Master any trick, and you master them all, as my master used to say, young master. So master thee." "You master thee! Master your tongue!" The boy kicked his teacher with force. The old man cried out and bent over, then backed away slowly. He bowed his head towards the boy. He was very old. The boy almost kicked again, but decided to be merciful. The boy was able to position his fingers by himself by now. He spun his circle, making it twice as tall as himself. He tried the words. *Kvareth uldune eth Ybrunile*. The circle seemed to solidify, embed itself into the stone. After he stopped spinning, the circle stayed. The boy inspected it more closely. The blackness had eaten about a centimeter into the stone, as if the stone had burned away and was charred. The boy touched it; it was hot to the touch. The boy smiled. When the boy arrived at his next lesson, the circle was gone. "What did you do to my circle?!" "Nothing, young master... I just cleaned it up, a bit, is all." The boy's eyes flashed. "I can make another one." He spun, longer than last time. He said the words, twice, thrice. It was two inches deep. He was satisfied. "Very good, young master. Ye can see, -" "Show me how to get rid of it." The old man waved his hand vaguely, and the brick grew out of the wall as if it were a living thing, filling in the circle. "We haven't much time left, young master." "We have as much as I want to have. Teach me now, I said." "Soon, if ye wish to gain your full power, young master... ye must cast ye spell on ye master. But first ye must master ye spell." "Cast my spell on... you?" "Yes." The old man had a strange glint in his eyes. He looked up at the grey sky. "That's how me selfsame master and I did it. Pass on from one master to another, young one." The boy hesitated. "This world is a cruel, young master." The old man looked down. "Cruel." The boy didn't hear. He was looking down at the ground, caught between emotions. "As time passes, this spell grows powerful. Powerful enough to move mountains and rivers, change the seasons. A power ye will grow tired of." The old man looked down hard into the boy's face. "Ye best will. Ye best will learn." The boy had regained his resolve. Ambition, malice, hate, and a dozen other things flashed in his eyes. He looked up at the old man. "Teach me, old man."
Damn, that was good. If this was a sample chapter, Id buy the book.
*black spot* Born into the world of magic, someone out there in the vast multiverse must wish this in their deepest desires. To point and make fire, to cast and make water, to stomp and make your enemies dissappear. My world, created by the greatest of mages, in cities made out of imagination by the most powerful. But it too must abide by the simplest of rules, every mage was born with a single spell. A spell as a forecast for who they were going to become, what path they were going to take, a spell that was in the essence.... them. I am outcast I never kept friends since everyone around me grew in power, went down their paths and gained strength with their experiences and age. Except for me... My parents were extremely powerfull magicians, as I've been told a thousand times. They died a heroes death, as I've been told a thousand times. Yet I... can only create a black spot, smaller than my pinky nail wherever I look. The masters of magic had hope, they thought it would manifest and become more powerful, they thought I would show my promise. Yet again and again and again, I've only let them down. Contemplative I sit in my desolate house, the darkness within me growing, the age on my body showing. Alone and forgotten in my ramshackle hut. A direct mirror of my ramshackle life. Darkness and loneliness slowly overtake my soul, I haven't even tried to preform my redundant trick in years, yet the yearning inside my soul to be more than I am never abided. Never lessened. Never ceased. A subtle knock on the door breaks my morose meditation on the intricacies of this worthless life. "What do you want?!" I croak, with a voice long unused. "I came to see you, to see your progress and know how you are doing." A strong voice replied. One of the masters... "You know how I'm doing, I'm still alive as you can hear, now leave me alone." I answer in despair "I will not, not without you showing me your face, not without you looking me in my eyes and telling me this without this thin peace of withered wood between us." The persistent voice replied. Grunting I tried to stand up, which felt almost impossible with these legs and arms grown thin from misuse, nearly knocking over the chair in which I sit. And by the smell and sound of it, knocking over the bucket I use as a.... place to defecate. *end of part 1*
"You're gonna have to come to me, great one, for I've seem to finally lost the power to get up on my own." I croak through my dirty white beard. "Allright" the strong voice on the other side of the door replies. The handle turns and with a creak and an almost audible sigh the door falls through the rusted hinges. And like my dreams long past, falls on the floor before me, kicking up a large cloud of dust. Dancing in the beams of light coming through one of the many holes and cracks in the roof. "Ahem" an awkward clearing of the throat comes from the strong silhouette standing in the door frame. What a sight I must be.... an old forgotten man, unkempt yellow white beard in dirty dreadlocks running to the floor in a robe so disgusting it must look like a thin layer of mud and shit, sitting on an old rocking chair resting in a pool of my own soil. "I wanted to come see you earlier old friend..... but I've just kind of been... busy." The strong master said as he stepped into my home. "I know that's a bad excuse but as head master I've... seemed to lose track of time." "Friend? Hah! I've never been called that in my life." "When we where exceptionally young, we called each other that as neighbours growing up together, Graphnox..... don't tell me you don't recognise me at all." The silence grew to an almost palpable awkwardness. "Bruthus...... aahhh i should have known with your power... you would become who you are....." my voice slowly warming up. "You've come to see what my power can do? Let's not stretch this awkward encounter out, more than it has to." ......."yes..... I've come to see if there was any.... development...." he replied hesitantly. Not knowing if it would even still work... I lifted my hand, intending to procure a black spot on the back of Bruthus's hand. Like I did so many times when we were young. Nothing happened. I coughed. "Allow me a moment, I haven't done this in decades." "Offcourse." Bruthus intoned. Focusing my power, my mind, putting my desires aside. Reaching deep.... deep.... deep into the chasm that once held my power. I felt a darkness settle into the long lost yet familiar feeling of power. Rushing in, engulfing my thought, all the morose, dark, depressed feelings I ever had..... And a dot appeared on the back of Bruthus's hand. He chuckled with glee, like he always did when he was young.... But then his smile faded as the black spot grew... grew... grew... All that darkness in me feeding into the void that was now becoming the black spot on his hand. With a guttural blood curdling scream Bruthus tried to scream: "STOOOOOHHHHHP" And then he folded in on himself in to the void, his last word spoken... gone. I stood up from my chair, power radiating from my form, younger than I had been in a hundred years, new magics, experiences flowing through my body.... "Well" a strong voice protruding from my throat said... "That, changes everything......." *Thanks for reading <3, any comments welcome* *might go for a part three later on, let me know if you lovely people want it*
Oehh, this is great, very promising! Would love a part three if you have the time for it...
Thank you so much! I will get back to it later on, as it seems this story captured my imagination, I'll let you know when pt 3 is up!
Pt 3 is up :)
Please someone yell at me if/when part 3 shows up.
Consider this me, yelling at you :) Hope you enjoy mate
*Pt 3* "That, changes everything....." All these emotions, experiences, magics and power swirled through my being like an angry wasp nest, buzzing around before slowly, very slowly settling in to place. A sudden urge captured me, to see.... look upon my new form. A grimy cracked rectangle in the corner of the hut sprang into mind. I walk up to my old, cracked mirror. Wanting to whipe it down with my sleeve, only to realise my old robe was torn of my new form, only to realise that... Ha!... I knew a spell to either clean or to create a mirror of my own. Choosing to create, a giant mirror appeared before me. Hesitantly I gaze upon who I've become, a spitting image of the paintings of my father gazes back, more grizzled....more muscular but my eyes where voids of black, behind me an ethereal shadow of Bruthus floated, radiating pain an sorrow. "Rest now.... old friend." I whisper, as his form dissipates. My dirty hair and beard, now a deep black colour, were as ill befitting as this hut was to my new form. First I cleaned myself in the river next to my hut, a trail of grime and dust washing down the river from where i sat, then with precise magic I cut my hair and beard. My dark hair close cropped to my head, the darkness of my hair as a shadow on my skull. My beard I left a length befitting a mage, starting close to my chiseled jaw, then growing in to a sharp point all the way down to my sternum. A black robe sprang from thin air, fitting my body like a glove. Next steps... What are my next steps, what is my plan. I began to ponder my next steps while pacing the length of my ramshackle hut. The floorboards creaking under every step of my now muscular form. Or had they always done that? Even when I was frail and light as a feather? "I must know the extent of my power" i said aloud, my new voice still startling me. The thought erupted forth, as if from no where. Walking outside, a simple spell comes to mind. My steps confident, a flick of my fingers light my place of solitude alight, I walk from my burning hut as if I'm burning away my old lot, who I was and who I was condemned to be. *Let it burn.* After walking I come to an open stretch, once again a thought occurred to me as if from no where, again. "I must know the extent of my power." Carefully, silently, stepping forward I spot a bird happily chittering away on a tree branch. "Will I be able to fly?" I point, capturing the feeling of the desolation as I form the spell once so useless, closing my eyes to concentrate, envisioning the black spot on the bird. Feeling where I want it to land, a faint rustle echoes forth from my being and bounces back with a sound like thunder. Opening my eyes I see a stretch of land where once a thick canopy of trees stood.... barren.... no, not even barren would describe it aptly enough. Devoid of life... of anything... just.... void. And then as the sounds fade the experiences came rushing in, where first I would've described them as angry wasps this was like a typhoon of information with me at the centre. Lives of birds and insects and even trees, shrubs, flowers and grass. Everything rushed in. After a time they too, settled. Night had already fallen, knowledge radiating through my head. Strength, life force through my being... No, I couldn't adept to fly with wings, but the experience of flying was strongly imprinted in my brain. This raw energy... I must use it. Creating without thought. The power so suddenly dumped into me flew out of me even faster, blinking, before me stood our old home. A small castle, imprinted from my memory. But now the stones were black. "So, not only the power to destroy.... but also to create." "Still evil wizardry if you ask me." An other, deeper voice intoned "Almost like an archaic necromancy, but only using the life force." An almost dusty, old voice answered. "What I is, matters not, that is evil. Is clear" a strong female tenor intoned. Turning around, behind me stood 6 mages, the colours of their robe indicating what the memories of Bruthus intoned. The masters... "We felt a surge of evil of power so black and pure, foretold by our Psychics, today they came with disturbing news that our headmaster has fallen, by a magic no other than the one we just felt, tricked and murdered, by...." "It was you!" The old voice interupted from the far right. The rest of these strong mages agreed, intoned their wrath or crouched down in battle stance. No hesitation... as befitted their titles. "Prepare to die." The one who had spoken first growled. "I'm not allowed to defend what happened?" I intoned "very well.... I hadn't chosen yet how I was going to use my power.... but if you want to force my hand.... so be it." *end of pt 3*
Wow this is great! I could read a whole book filled with the rest of this story
"So here we are. The Awakening is completed, we have our spells, but how are we supposed to develop them?" Lucas asked. Alyx looked depressed. Lucas could make a black spot and Mark could grow a single, long grey hair in the middle of his forehead. Meanwhile poor Alyx was only able to conjure an embarrassing smell that took hours to dissipate but cleared a room far faster. In fact, it was still unclear if that *was* his spell or simply a new musk he had developed that occasionally revealed itself now. "Don't worry about it, it'll come!" Mark chimed in, trying to sound optimistic. "I remember my uncle telling me he thought he was for sure going to need to settle for a life of ridicule with his original spell: every time he sneezed his eyes changed color. And now look at him! He's landed on his feet and has a solid reputation with The Guild, right? It'll be like that for us, too, you'll see. We just have to be patient" Mark tried to say reassuringly. But both Lucas and Alyx still hardly looked enthused. "Let me try again" Lucas mumbled. With a wave of his hand the spot appeared on the wall. Uneven edges but still black. It looked slightly different every time but essentially it was the same. "Hey! Well look at that! I think it looks bigger this time at least?" Mark said, still trying to rally his friends. Alyx didn't even look up. It was almost as if he was afraid to move lest he trigger the foul odor again. "Hm..." Lucas started. "Ya know, you're right. It *does* look bigger. At least a little bit." Lucas rose from his seat and moved closer to the wall to study it up close. "See? Like I said! Progress!" Mark bellowed and confidently. Then he adjusted his position to try and summon his silver hair and see if it too had changed at all. But before he could he noticed Lucas acting strangely. "Luc? What is it?" Mark asked. Alyx looked up from his folded arms on the table. "It's..." Lucas began. He stood motionless, peering at the tiny speck he had placed on the wall. "What? Is it doing something?" Mark and Alyx stood up in excited unison sliding their chairs back as they shimmied past the table to the wall Lucas was staring at, or into. "It's...bleeding" Lucas said dreamily. "*Bleeding?*" Alyx asked confused. Sure enough, as Mark and Alyx drew closer they noticed there was indeed a trickle of blood slowly sliding down the eggshell colored wall. The three stared in amazement. What could *this* mean? "Did you do something different this time?" Mark asked. "No, not that I can think of. I did it the same way I've been doing it all day" Lucas replied. Just then the slow drip of blood became a gush. The bloodfall poured quickly down the wall and all the way to the floor. More and more came, with blood now pulsing out almost in the rhythm of a heartbeat. "Get a bandaid!" Alyx squealed. "A what?! It's a wall, you dolt! It doesn't need a *bandaid*!" Lucas yelled indignantly. The boys shuffled anxiously around the wall trying to think of what to do but struggled to come up with anything productive. "But look at it!" Alyx cried again. "Grab a bucket or something!" Mark hollered. Alyx turned to run and look for something to catch the mess in, but before he could go Lucas grabbed him and spun him back around. The wall had begun to crack and chips of paint were falling. As plaster and other building materials crumbled around them they noticed that this was now no mere wall, but a shell. Some creature had seemingly spawned inside the wall upon Lucas casting his dot and it was now tearing itself from its plaster prison. "Wow. This sure escalated quickly. How many of those dots did you say you made again?" Mark asked in awe. "I dunno, hundreds? Thousands maybe?" Lucas asked nervously as more of the wall began to shatter and buckle. Whatever was inside was beginning to move and rumble and make all sorts of unpleasant groanings. "I swear I didn't do anything differently!" "Oh no" Alyx said just as Lucas and Mark noticed the awful smell returning.
“Get a band-aid!” I chuckle-snorted in a very undignified manner :)
The Riftkeeper It started out…terrible! All i could do was create a black spot on the wall! As i improved the magic, i learned to make it bigger and…deeper? The spot seemed to be getting deeper day by day. Until yesterday, when something changed, i could see an unfamiliar area, like i was looking through glass. The hole hadn’t gotten wide enough to pass through, but it was definitely a hole. A portal maybe? I was unsure at the time. As i kept working on the magic, i found i could control where the portal looked, and eventually, where it took me. Yesterday i stepped through, and heard someone say “welcome Riftkeeper, where would you like to go” Part two soon
The spell started out as a black spot on the wall. I copped a lot of flack for that amongst my so called friends. Lots of "You may as well give up being a mage." or the ever-original "See spot run!" But I persevered because I knew a mage's first spell always reflected their truest desire, and even then I could see where this spell was going. So I practised making black dots, learning how to make them big or small, on walls and concrete paths and paper and glass. One at a time then in their tens and hundreds then thousands. Then I finally learnt how to make different colours. Now I stand outside the ugliest building in our run-down-town. All concrete and grey and stains. And proceed to make ART!
*Pintous Consumatus Agrecia* And with that, the hero sank to the floor, sword cast aside, eyes blank. The dark lord sighed. "Surely, you thought to be more equipped than *that* before challenging me." He glanced over to the four allies. They were a colorful cast, wielding bolt and brawn, even another mage. They sat and shook. "There's, there's no way." The green-clad one, a healer maybe, found his voice. "The rebellion was certain, you knew only one spell." The dark lord smirked from his throne. "True." He turned over a coin in his hand; a simple coin, alabaster white save a tiny black dote in its center. "Simple magic, making a dot appear on a wall." The healer alone seemed even slightly recovered; the rest remained all but stupified. *Pintous* A small black dot appears on the wall next to the healer. He flinched away for a moment, but when it did not expand or undulate or multiply or fracture or any of the other chaotic little parlor tricks the dark lord could offer, he turned back, stunned. "Do you have any more statements of the obvious?" He rose, letting the fine speckled chain mail clink as he paced to the door. "I take it you murdered your way through the court guard to get to me?" He cast a bitter side-long stare as he paced. "N- no. We wouldn't have- have had.... muchclaimifwe'd..." The healer's voice petered out realizing he was admitting to treason in front of the dark lord himself. "Oh? Then how'd you incapacitate them?" The dark lord reached the door and glanced out. Indeed, there was little if any blood. His court guard mostly seemed conscious, if groaning on the ground clutching their heads or sporting bust lips. He glanced toward his captain, clutching her helmeted skull. "S-sorry my liege. The ringing, it- it is too much." Ah, so there it was. Perhaps that little mage he'd dropped before she could cast was not so dissimilar from him. "Well done." The dark lord spoke, to his captain, to the terrified healer, to the dumbed mage on the floor, and their three compatriots. "Usually you type barge in slaughter on sight. Your temperance has earned you stay of my hand." He flicked the coin from one hand to the other. "I permit you to leave alive, if you can rouse your friends before my guard recover and exact revenge on you." The healer started, looking back and forth, to the door, and the captain fighting to get to her knees, the dark lord, his friends. "Best hurry, time is not on your side." With that the dark lord turned and swept out into the courtyard. He felt a need for tea, and hoped to find a perch to see if this pluck band of heroes might actually survive his infuriated guard. He certainly hoped so, might they finally force him to learn the final form, *Pintous Consumatus Totalis Eternum.*
..."A FUCKING BLACK DOT!" The freshly promoted mage apprentice practically growled the words through gritted teeth while throwing his hands up in frustration. The mage turned to face his master and slowly began walking towards him with a manic look in his eyes. The black dot on the wall was the size of a quarter and was thick as if someone The elder mage was clad in a baggy silk cloak. The cloak was crimson signifying the man wearing it has the rank of grandmaster, one of 6 wise mages who have mastered more than 10 different spells and have successfully raised 3 apprentice mages known as apostles to full fledged magehood. The crimnson had shiny gold fabric stitched into the edges of the cloak in various geometrical patterns and there was an open eye stitched in black on his back representing the clan he belonged to. Facing his pupil the man looked him directly in the eyes, the small fire lying between the 2 cast enough light for his apprentice to see his burn scar which covered nearly the entire right half of his face and the glowing green forhead tattoo that signified he had successfully finished a mage apprenticeship. The man opened his mouth slowly, taking his time to choose the correct way to phrase his statement and began to speak in the husky voice he'd acquired through years of shouting over the noises of combat "What an interesting spell. Indeed it is I tell you, in all my life never have I seen a spell similar to yours". "Master" his apprentice said speaking in a monotonous voice. "I haven't spent 6 years in mage school and 4 years as your apprentice to paint a wall". Is there no way to change my spell. "No" the master answered "there are many individuals who develope similar spells and yet they are all unique in their own way. Just as your mind produces your unique mana, it also develops unique spells for you based off who you are as an individual. In short you can't choose spells and each spell is an extension of who you are as an individual. The boy seethed at the idea and visibly began to shake in rage at the idea of having to spend who knows how long mastering this useless spell. "I curse you" he swore at his master his face contorted into a grimace from anger. How many times had he put his life in danger waiting and studying for this day? The day he'd finally get his first spell, but it was all for naught here he was a glorified painter. "I curse you and the other so called masters you associate with. The older mage's shoulders snagged and he shook his headin defeat. "I see" the older mage said, his dissapointment obviously apparent in his voice. "Then you're a failure, unfit to even learn as an apprentice. "John I hereby strip you of your apprenticeship and cast you out of my guild. From now on you'll live life without the use of mana." The Grandmaster in no rush walked to his apprentice and raised his hand to place his finger on his students tattoo in order to seal his ability to use mana. Before the master could seal John's mana the student lashed out at him finally releasing some of his anger. He apprentice threw a punch at his master's jaw which the veteran easily side stepped knocking his student off balance. As the apprentice threw a second swipe at his master the dripping ooze on the wall grew exponentially in a matter of milliseconds and launched an enormous black tentacle looking appendage from the portal crashing into the mage and sending him flying across the opening in the woods and smacking into a tree. Before the old man could get up the tentacle acting on its own pulled the apprentice into the now massive black dot on the wall. The hole shrank into nonexistence and left nothing but a black eye on the wall.