Meet Eilo Orenda

 Fate of Magics 

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Meet Eilo Orenda

The blood lay upon my hands; I prayed to my goddess that it was a dream, a nightmare, but it wasn’t... I wanted to throw up. I did the magic. I preformed dark magic. I never… I never had done black magic. I never have done anything, but the lighter magics. I was a Sun Warlock. I was a healer. A teacher. Not this. But I panicked. I need my magic; it is a part of my very being. I would die without it. So, I picked up the only dark book that my family had ever owned. It had one ritual in it. One. This one. Rumors are there are three different rituals. Each family guarding one. This was my family’s burden. And I betrayed my ancestors. I performed the forbidden. 

 

When the seer went to the Magical President and Congress and told of the prophecy. When the Majority Leader, Senator Cham, got on the news and told us all about the end of magic the devastation was clear. Many people had screamed, cried, killed themselves. But I knew of the ritual. I knew that I had to keep my magic. I had to, or I would die in the mundane world without it. I had carved out my life, my existence, based upon magic. I was a healer! A doctor! I used my magic to destroy things that still effected the mundane world! Without magic we would never come up with mundane means of curing things that no longer exist in our world. Our people would die as young as the mundane and not leave hundreds of years as we did now. We wouldn’t have time to expand out knowledge. A mortal life span of an average of forty years was not something that would be taken well. From hundreds of years to just a few short years. Most of the magical children would die. If one lived to be thirty they had a chance at maybe hitting sixty. To many illnesses to fight without magic. Our people would die. Not to mention the witch hunts. The mundane people were killing their own people because they dared be different. We worshiped the gods and goddesses. We worshiped nature. We thanked nature. We used nature to heal. To hurt. To live. To die. Our people wouldn’t be able to hide it forever and from here in London to the colonies, our people would die, murdered for being themselves. Murdered for not being Christian. I shuddered in that thought. I would have to hide myself, and the only way I knew how was to use my magic to hide my life style, to hide my beliefs, to hide my long life, to hide everything. So, I pulled the three-page book from the hidden vault of my family. I would do what was needed to keep my magic.

Over the next year the Senators went to their people, they started preparing them to live in the mundane world, spells were woven, rituals preformed, and offerings given. People had to start over, the currencies were different, the society was different. Less advanced. I took ‘medical’ classes in the mundane world, trying to figure out where they were, it was boring. Their ‘advancements’ were jokes. We had found these same advancements hundreds of years ago. So, now I would have to watch people die. Magic would be gone from the land. I would have mine, but mine would not be enough to save our people. Most of our healing magics took the magic of the person being healed. Mundane humans don’t have enough magic in their bodies to be able to use the cures. It will take centuries of work for me to figure out how to save magicless people the same way I do now. I will be in for a lot of failure. But at least I will have the chance to discover it. At least that was my view until I lay here with the blood upon my hands.

 

The blood lay upon my hands; I prayed to my goddess that it was a dream, a nightmare, but it wasn’t... I wanted to throw up. I did the magic. I preformed dark magic. I took seven Sun Magic users, seven innocents, and I cut out their hearts and while I used their magic to keep them alive, I drained their life blood from their hearts, I drained it into a black gold goblet with the symbol of Death upon it, the upside down Ankh and the Scarab Beetle mocked me the whole time. Death Magic was the ultimate darkness. But I drained their life blood into the goblet. I dropped their drained hearts back into their chest. When I drained their life blood their magic was in there as well. I then slit my wrist and allowed a half of pint of my blood to mix with theirs. My hands were blood stained as I called upon death offering their deaths as my sacrifice to keep my magic. I felt Death. Death was there with me. I closed my eyes and drained the goblet, drinking their blood and my own. With that the innocents died and I felt Death’s acceptance as I fell to my knees staring at my hands, the empty goblet now lying beside me. What had I done?

Meet Eira Cham

Fate of Magics
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Meet Eira Cham

I couldn’t live without my magic. I couldn’t. There was a Black ritual. A ritual that had been banned. It was dark. Evil. But I couldn’t be ‘normal’. My mind spit the word like it was a curse word. I couldn’t be that. That would be a horrible existence. But a seer has predicted the end of magic. I can’t go without magic. I look down at my family book. There is a reason my family was feared. Before we hid in the White. Black magic. White magic. Grey Magic. Red, Pink, Byzantium, and Sun Magics. They are all the same. Power. And my family mastered them all. Except Black, Red, Byzantium Magics were banned as evil and grey was barely tolerated. My family being political did a public denouncing of the ‘dark’ and embraced the ‘light’. I snorted. Never trust a politician.

I don’t want to know what they would do if they realized that most of the Black magic was hidden Death Magic. Life magic was easy. Death Magic took sacrifice. Lots and lots of sacrifice. I called my ritual Black Magic. But in truth it was Death Magic. Death Magic even I fear, and I am a ruthless Ice Queen. One that the magical society knows not to go up against. I have risen from a girl from the bad side of town, to a senator on the magical congress. I should be planning my campaign for magical president. Instead, we know the death of magic. And I look that the life blood of these horrific criminals. They wouldn’t be missed. I could have used innocents, light magic users but they would be noticed. So, I just had to use seven times as many. Forty-nine bodies drained of their life blood. Magic keeping their hearts pumping, even as their chest cavities are cut open. I wasn’t after their heart, though rumors stated that one such ritual used the hearts of seven Light users, I was after their manifestation of their souls and magic.

I looked at the tub that held 441 pints of blood. Four was a magic number. It represented the four elements of life that made up the fifth. The magic of the 49 souls that gave me the 441 pints of blood would help manifest and represent the fifth element. I would have to combine three pints of my blood and offer up my magic, all to keep the very thing that makes me feel alive. So, I stripped and sat in the pool of blood. As I was submerged but for my head and wrists. I took a deep breath and called my magic to create a ball representing my magic. A ball of ice formed and in the center was a small blue burning flame. But the ice protected it. For as hot as a blue flame was, ice could burn just as badly. I took a deep breath and brought the athame to my wrists. I cut deep to allow the blood to flow. I submerged myself into the tub fully. I held my breath and brought the magic of the sacrifices into my ball of magic, the ball grew bright white as the flame in the center grew stronger, burning. The ice around it fighting to show it was stronger. I brought my hands out of the tub and then grabbed the ball of magic and as it burned my hands, I slammed it down into my chest. I arched and my back as the power washed over me. I offered up the magic, my soul, the blood to Death. I offered it as my wrists sealed as the three pints had poured out. The blood filled me, as did the magic. I felt myself and the pool of blood and magic around me levitate, the sacrifice of blood and magic swirled around me. The power built until it exploded, the blood, splattered across the walls and the magic slammed into me. The blood soaked into the walls and disappeared, the magic sealing mine within me. Protecting me from the end. I lay in the empty tub, stained with blood, I took gaping breathes, as I felt Death accept my offering. Oh, Magic, what had I done?

Meet Chione Aharon

Fate of Magics
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Meet Chione Aharon:

The ritual I did was beyond dark magic. Beyond black magic. It was Death magic. Death and Life each had a magic of their own. To give and to take. Many of those who practiced Black Magic hid Death Magic into the Black. Or modified it to not pay tribute to Death. It weakened the results but the more magic you had the stronger and closer to the original it was. My family were once Death’s Chosen. Most of our family secrets revolves around Death Magic. And thus, I knew it well. Death magic was a very part of our souls. It had allowed us to move up in the world. It had allowed us to lead the world via the underground. Oh, there were a few powerful people that we didn’t mess with. The Ice Queen of our world was one. She depended on magic, I wondered if she would be doing a similar Death Ritual to keep her magic? She and I were leaders in our communities, but on the magical side. We would be starting over on the mundane side. But there was no way I was going to start over without my magic. I could not live without something that had been part of my very soul since my conception. So, I read the ritual, and I knew what I had to do. Perhaps, everything does happen for a reason.


I was a widowed bride. My husband murdered in front of me on my wedding. My Snow White heart shaped trumpet gown stained red with his blood forever. I remembered that day as it was yesterday. Even if it was over five years ago now. I did love him. He was an innocent. A Byzantium Wizard. I never imagined what spilling my coffee on someone would bring. It was quite a whirlwind courtship. I tried to keep him away from the seedy world I operated in. I really did. But, my enemies learned of him. Poor Michael Getz. Mike was a peacekeeper and a pure Byzantium Light Wizard. Who loved me no matter my faults.


And upon my wedding day, what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I became a widow. My enemies had hired a master assassin. My groom had been standing up and doing a toast to me when the assassin blew his brains out and shot him twice in the chest. His life’s blood and magic splattering upon my dress.


I shook my head as the memories played as I looked at the blood upon my dress. I never cleaned it. Never. After all, it was my wedding and widow dress. I used that blood. Dead Man’s blood. An innocent man’s blood. What he was killed for, it wasn’t his actions, never his, he was a light magic user. It was for actions I had taken against another family. My family is the equivalent of the Mafia and I made a lot of enemies. My enemy hit when I was the weakest. Just like I had done in the past. My groom’s blood would make the perfect offering to Death.


I dressed into my wedding dress. And walked out under the full moon of the summer night. Upon the ground Death’s symbol lay carved into the dirt, sealed with magic to not blow or wash away as the magic built during the ritual. His symbol was an upside-down Ankh with a scab in the center. I stood in the center and using the magic in his blood and mine, I filled the tip of my Athame with the magic and then calling upon Death magic sealed inside myself.


I stabbed the dagger into my chest piercing my heart using the Life blood as an offering to death and then using the combined magic to seal the wound allowing me to live. And this offering and sealing would allow me to keep my magic; as it was now sealed in the scar in my soul and heart. I wondered as I lay there gasping for air my fresh blood now mingled with the blood of my groom, who else would do what it took to keep their magic? Or would I truly be alone? What had I done? And I gave into darkness as I felt Death accept my offering…

Fate of Magics

Fate of Magics
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This website will be for the chapters/screenplay of Fate of Magics.

Magic was killed. Well, almost. Three people remain. Forever stuck in time. Because to keep their magic they performed a ritual. A ritual that stopped their aging and froze them until they broke the curse and brought magic back to the world.

The problem?

To break the curse they have to perform a selfless act of sacrifice and these three magic users have long become arrogant and selfish.

Can the 3 remaining people with magic learn humility and how to be human once more?

Or will they doom themselves to a never changing existence?