ONE
The silence was deafening as I stared at the woman across from me. It wasn’t her stature that was intimidating.
She was barely over five feet.
Physically, I stood at least six inches over her.
It didn’t matter.
The power that she radiated made her seem ten feet tall. A wave of blue power briefly flared in her gray eyes as she looked at me. It felt more like she was looking through me; her gaze held the weight of ages in it.
I reflexively took a step back as her gaze assessed me.
Pain and loss were clear in that look, but there was something else too, something I couldn’t pin down. It came across as determination mixed with hope.
She looked off to the side as she paced around the circle, before focusing on me. Today she was in dark jeans and a loose off-white blouse. As usual, she was barefoot.
The circle pulsed slowly as she walked; each silver pulse matched her footsteps. The air around her was charged with power. There was an undercurrent of danger in that power. I knew she had it under control. At the same time, it felt as if she had tamed a hurricane and it strained to explode, blasting us with the fury of wind and water.
I noticed the golden toe rings on each foot and saw that each ring gave off a soft blue glow as she paced. She stopped and turned to me as she crouched down and touched the edge of the circle before standing again.
She stood still—her presence filling the area with a growing menace as she crossed her arms and gave me a hard stare.
“Harness the power,” she said, her voice as gentle as a blade, slicing through the cool air of the Tombs. “Don’t just acknowledge its presence, channel it, control it. You must exercise your will. Do not allow the power free rein. You must use the power, not the other way around.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I said, the frustration creeping into my voice. “I’m trying to do what you’re asking.”
“That is your error; you’re trying,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to try. I want you to harness the power. Make it yours. Trying means you made a concession for failure. What will you do when failure is not an option, when lives depend on your success? Will you try, then? Even if it means the deaths of those you care for?”
“No,” I said, my voice low and hard. “I will do what I have to do.”
“What are you waiting for, child?” she asked. “The more you bleed in practice, the less you bleed in battle.”
“I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”
“That’s how it goes now—especially when it pertains to you and your abilities,” she said with an edge to her voice. “Stop trying and start doing. Now.”
I looked down at the symbols that surrounded me as I stood in the center of a runic circle. All around me, symbols I could barely decipher pulsed with energy as they glowed a deep silver.
Within, I felt my body vibrating with an ancient power, most of which wasn’t mine. The power felt brutal, uncontrollable; it threatened to break free from inside me and destroy everything.
I had to control it.
Part of me—a dark, secret part—wanted to unleash the power and let it go. Deep inside, I wanted to see the power obliterate everything around me.
I knew this wasn’t me.
It was the desire of the power, the corruption inherent inside Brightshadow that craved chaos and darkness. It wanted to unleash devastation and revel in the destruction.
It was a darkmage weapon after all.
I took a deep breath and steadily wrestled the power back under control. It was a fight for every ounce of control. I felt the sweat form along my brow, as I exerted my will over it. Several large craters around the Tombs were indications of my failed attempts to keep the power under some kind of control.
After what felt like a lifetime, I managed to take hold of the power I held inside, controlling it.
For several seconds, I had it.
It was under control.
The power coursed through my body, obeying my commands. I felt it fill me, letting me direct it where I wanted it to go—then I felt it slip my grasp.
Futilely, I tried to reassert control, but it was a lost cause.
A dark blast of power escaped my hands, heading for Alala, who remained motionless. As the blast closed in, searing the air as it traveled, she gestured, deflecting it away from her and into the stone wall directly across from me, carving yet another crater into existence.
“Again,” she said without moving. “You need to focus on the energy, only this time, try not to obliterate the Tombs, or me, while you’re at it.”
“Brightshadow is too much,” I said, frustrated, shaking the pins and needles in my hands out. “I can’t handle this much power. It’s like trying to grab smoke. This is impossible for me.”
She cocked her head to one side as she looked at me.
“Improbable,” she answered, holding up a finger. “Not impossible, despite your extensive efforts at redecoration of the Tombs.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, scanning the damage. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Destroy the Tombs?” she finished. “I know, child. The Tombs will survive your learning pains.”
“The Tombs might,” I said under my breath, “I’m not so sure I will.”
“You must,” she said, her voice suddenly sharp. “You are a Forza and as such the only one who can wield the Eclipse—besides Alfonse, your grandfather.”
“You could train someone else to do this.”
“Do you believe we have not tried?” she asked. “The prospect of Alfonse wielding Eclipse again is a horror no one wishes to relive. We tried…many times. Each attempt was met with abysmal failure. There is no one else.”
“Lucky me.”
“This has nothing to do with luck, good or bad,” she said. “This is your birthright—it must be you.”
I glanced around the empty area of the Tombs that Alala had converted into an extensive training area. Mel sat off to the side, giving me plenty of space, as I tried to channel the power of Brightshadow, the weapon and key given to me by Archon Quinn.
The key to finding and joining the Eclipse.
That thought was never far from my mind. I needed to find the Eclipse. I had the key in my hand, figuratively speaking, and I couldn’t even manifest Brightshadow without blowing the place up.
“Brightshadow isn’t cooperating,” I said, exasperated. “I can’t do this.”
“You’re right,” Alala said. “You can’t.”
“Then why are you asking—?”
“Yet,” she finished. “You can’t…yet.”
“I don’t understand,” I said as the anger rose inside me. “Why would Quinn give me Brightshadow if it was beyond me?”
“He gave it to you because it was beyond you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
I was really getting tired of her cryptic answers. She never answered any of my questions directly. Every time I asked a question, she skillfully deflected my answer.
“I’m glad at least one of us knows,” I grumbled. “It feels like he gave it to me so I would blow myself apart.”
“He gave you Brightshadow, knowing you would have to grow to be able to wield it as a key and as a weapon,” she said, speaking plainly. “The only way to find the Eclipse is to be able to wield the power of Brightshadow, and the only way to do that, is to grow in power.”
“There’s no way I can manifest this weapon,” I said. “What good is a key I can’t even produce?”
“What did you expect, child?” Alala said, cocking her head to one side as a slight smile crossed her lips. “Did you think it would be easy? Manifesting Brightshadow is only the first challenge.”
“The first challenge?” I said. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a darkmage facing the Directorate.”
“What else do I need to do?”
“You have to manifest Brightshadow, harness its energy, and then use it to locate the missing pieces of the Eclipse,” she said, stomping on my thinly veiled hope. “If you somehow manage to accomplish the reforging of the Eclipse shards without dying—”
“Reforging of the Eclipse shards?” I asked in disbelief. “I’m supposed to reforge the Eclipse—one of the most powerful weapons wielded? How?”
“Carefully, I would imagine,” she said. “As I was saying, if you manage to survive the reforging, which, as you are now, is impossible, you still have to wield the wholly formed Eclipse—without being corrupted and turned by the darkness within the blade.”
“So, basically what you’re saying is that this is hopeless,” I said. “Can I even learn the Skills?”
“Yes, you will acquire the three major Skills,” she said. “The fact that you have an understanding of stasis will help you in understanding the first of the Skills.”
“The first—you’re saying I can really learn the frozen fire?” I asked. “How? I can’t even manifest Brightshadow.”
“In order to reforge the Eclipse, you must have an understanding of frozen fire,” she said. “It is the only way to rejoin the blade without a major forge.”
“Just curious,” I said, “where would I find a major forge?”
“Deep within the Directorate,” she said. “Finding it is not the problem, escaping it with your life would be impossible.”
“Right,” I said. “We go the frozen fire route then.”
Alala looked off to the side for a moment.
“You hold incredible potential, you possess the key you need,”—she glanced at Mel—“you have a Guardian to keep you alive, along with your own amazing resolve, and now, you have someone to point you in the right direction.”
She was right; it was just hard to believe her words when I couldn’t do the most basic cast—manifesting Brightshadow outside of my body and into my hands.
“Then why isn’t this working?”
“Because you are stopping your progress.”
“Me?” I asked. “How am I stopping my progress?”
“You harbor a tremendous amount of anger and doubt,” Alala said, her voice soft. “It gets in your way. Anger always does.”
“I have a right to be angry,” I said, letting venom seep into my voice. “Are you saying I don’t?”
“Do you want to learn the Skills?”
“You know I do.”
“Your words and your actions do not align.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, confused. “I’m doing everything you ask of me. Even the things I can’t possibly do, because I lack the power.”
“If you want to learn the Skills, you must learn the source of this anger,” she said. “If you want to harness the power that now lies within you, you must control this anger. If you wish to wield a whole Eclipse, stand against your grandfather, and survive his onslaught—you must conquer this anger.”
“I don’t think I can get past the harnessing part, much less the conquering,” I said. “I’m not—”
“There’s the doubt,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me. “It undermines what you know to be true.”
“That basically I’m dead?” I said, seeing the reality. “How can I face Alfonse when I can’t even manifest Brightshadow? Not even Quinn could stand against my grandfather, and Quinn was an Archon. Which, in case you haven’t noticed, is way beyond my current power level.”
“I’ve noticed,” she said. “As you are now, facing your grandfather would be a death sentence. Once you accept that truth, we can go from there. Now—are you done stalling?”
I stared at her, but kept my thoughts to myself.
Alala was doing something she vowed she would never do—teach another darkmage the Skills—especially not a Forza darkmage.
“I’m not stalling,” I said, stalling. “I’m just not getting how this is supposed to work.”
“Where is the fierce darkmage that threatened to end the Enforcer—what was his name?” Alala asked, glancing at me. “Do you recall the Enforcer you revealed your true nature to?”
She gestured at my hair and I knew what she was pointing to immediately. A significant part of my hair had turned bright white. It was a dead giveaway, revealing my darkmage ability.
It was also an instant death sentence if the Directorate ever caught me. I could feel my face turn red at my error. Fen would have read me the riot act for making such a colossal mistake. I let my emotions get the best of me and slipped up in front of an Enforcer.
Worse, Xander knew I was a Forza.
If I wasn’t dead for being a darkmage, the fact that I was from the direct lineage of the most notorious darkmage in existence was enough to get me terminated on sight.
I still couldn’t believe I had committed such an amateur move.
“Xander,” Mel volunteered, the traitor. “Enforcer Xander Ashford who is nearly a first level mage, if I recall.”
“Thanks,” I said, staring daggers at Mel. “Your help is not welcome nor appreciated.”
Mel gave me a short nod and a small smile, but remained silent.
“Yes, Xander Ashford,” Alala said, looking at me. “The Enforcer who now knows you are a darkmage of Forza’s lineage. Where is the power you demonstrated when you faced him?”
“I was…angry,” I said, realizing the truth in Alala’s words. “He was trying to arrest us. I didn’t mean to let him know I was a darkmage, much less a Forza.”
“You didn’t?” Alala said with the hint of a smile. “You have a peculiar way of not revealing things.” She pointed at the white locks of my hair again. “Tell me child, are you prepared to end his life?”
Her question caught me off-guard.
Her voice was gentle, but her expression was hard, as her eyes fixed me in place.
“What?” I asked, slightly confused. “What are you talking about? He is a guest in the Tombs. Why would I need to kill him? It’s not like he can use his abilities. You neutralized him.”
Alala stepped over to a small chair at the edge of the circle. The power thrumming through the circle flowed under my feet, creating a sensation of deep power. She sat down, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, as she closed her eyes for a moment, before looking up and staring at me.
“Do you hate this Enforcer, this Xander?” she asked, the question further unsettling me. “He is your enemy?”
I paused for a moment and gave her question thought. My feelings for the Directorate were clear, burning white-hot in my chest. There was no room for understanding, compassion, or mercy when it came to them.
I only had room for vengeance—lethal vengeance.
And yet, I hesitated.
I had the opportunity to destroy him and I held back.
“He’s an Enforcer, I hate him and everything he represents,” I said, measuring my words carefully. “He’s a Directorate mage tasked with tracking down and killing anyone he’s told is a threat— especially darkmages.”
“My question stands,” she said. “Are you prepared to end his life? If he is such a threat, why didn’t you kill him when you wielded the power of Brightshadow? He’s an Enforcer and you…you are a darkmage. The most logical action you could have taken was to cut his life short. Remove him before he became a larger threat.”
I glanced over at Mel, remembering our conversations.
“He didn’t deserve to die.”
“He didn’t?” Alala asked. “Didn’t you just say he was an Enforcer tasked with hunting down and exterminating darkmages? Why not end him before he ends you?”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “I’m not like them. I’m not a cold-blooded murderer.”
“Taking a life is simple,” she said, her words hard. “Living with the aftermath of that choice—is the hardest thing you will ever do.”
“I was angry, he threatened to arrest us and I wanted to show him…”
“Show him what?”
“That I wasn’t weak or powerless,” I said, my voice low. “I wanted to show him that he was wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“Darkmages…me,” I said. “We’re not heartless killers deserving only of death. We’re people just like them. We deserve to live and exist, just like they do. We don’t all use our power for evil.”
“Darkmages die,” she said. “That is the Directorate credo, reinforced and executed by the Enforcers—yes?”
I nodded, the words heavy in my throat.
“Yes, but I think he can be made to see the truth,” I said. “Darkmages aren’t mindless killers. Despite the propaganda the Enforcers are fed, we are not cold-blooded killers.”
“And yet, for all intents and purposes, you did kill this Xander.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, thoroughly confused now. “He’s in your guest quarters. I didn’t kill him.”
“You brought him with you, here. Not only did you jeopardize the Tombs—my home—by bringing him here, you ended his life permanently as an Enforcer,” she said. “If the Directorate apprehends him, what do you think they will do?”
“They will kill him,” Mel said, from where he sat on the side, his voice grim. “They won’t need a reason, but we provided them with plenty.”
“We couldn’t leave him,” I said, my voice hard as I turned to Mel. “They would’ve ended him if we had.”
“True,” Mel said with a nod. “But by taking him with us, he lost all chance at a defense. He will be seen as a traitor. It will appear as if he aided a darkmage in an op to infiltrate and then escape the Directorate HQ.”
“They have cameras in the Directorate HQ,” I said. “He could prove he was innocent.”
“No, he can’t,” Mel said. “The best he can plead is that he was knocked unconscious and kidnapped. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of his Enforcer skills. He will be seen as an incompetent traitor.”
“He’s almost first level,” I said. “I’m sure they will show him some leniency.”
“What Directorate have you encountered?” Mel asked. “The one I’ve faced doesn’t believe in mercy or leniency.”
“He’s nearly first level,” I said. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“No,” Mel said. “He was working under Inquisitor Emery…who’s not known for his merciful personality. They will make an example out of him. Weeks of torture, erasure of abilities, followed by a horrifically slow and agonizing death.”
“Even if they don’t kill him, which I doubt he will be spared, he will be stripped of his ability and imprisoned for the rest of his short life,” Alala said. “Either way—he’s a dead man.”
“I killed him,” I said as the anger rose in my chest. “Are you saying I should feel sorry for him?”
“That is not for me to determine,” Alala said. “His life or death will be your choice to make when the time comes.”
“Darkmages die,” I said, my words clipped. “It’s what every Enforcer believes. It’s what the Directorate has taught them. It’s what they do. They all believe it.”
“I am well aware of what Enforcers do,” Alala said. “When the moment comes, you will make the choice you need to make. For now, I want you to focus on Brightshadow and channel the energy. Begin…again.”
I took a deep breath and refocused, but her words never left me…
Are you prepared to take his life?
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