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?
