2025-02-18 00:49:58"Are you serious right now? You want his wand and spell book?Mason, you know that kind of magic isn't easy to take. It is not like you can just steal them and suddenly become like him Tony said carefully.
"I don't care how hard it is Tony. I'm tired of being the weak one, the one without magic, the one everyone looks down on. I've been patient. I've tried everything I can to get my own powers and magic wand but nothing's worked. Meanwhile, John walks around with all his wealth and power like it was handed to him on a silver platter" Mason voices out in frustration.
Tony could feel the weight of Mason's frustration. He had seen the way people like John and Aurora treated those without magic. It wasn't fair. But taking John's wand and spell book was a dangerous idea. John's magic came from his lineage and stealing that power wasn't just about taking his belongings.it would involve dark consequences. If the magic wand is not issued to you, the power of the wand would be unpredictable and the consequences could be devastating.
"Mason, I get it. I really do but you have to think about this. There is a difference between wanting power and going down a dark path to get it. The magic wand and the spellbook you're about to steal could turn against you because you're not the true owner. Once you start, there is no going back." Tony said carefully.
"I'm already on that path, Tony. They've already pushed me this far. I'm not going to sit around waiting for something to happen anymore. I'm going to take control of my own destiny. If that means stealing John's magic wand and spell book then so be it" Mason said with anger.
Later that day, as the night came, it was a cold night and a deep chill was felt over the grounds of John's father's mansion. The moon was covered with thick clouds, casting everything in deep shadows. Silent and determined, Mason moves with purpose through the darkness, his footsteps nearly light as he carefully maneuvered around the guards patrolling the mansion.
"Heavily guarded mansion, securities everywhere and a mansion filled with ancient magic, I can't be caught or else I will be long gone and destroyed" Mason said to himself.
Mason's mind was racing and his heart was beating in his chest but he kept his composure. He had planned this moment in his head over and over again. The guards, the layout of the mansion, he knew it all. His plan was simple and that is to get in and steal John's magic wasn't a spell book and get out before anyone noticed. The power they held would change everything for him. It was the key to his revenge and the key to becoming a powerful magician just like his parents and ancestors.
Finally, Mason reached the side of the mansion and carefully climbed up to the second floor window leading to John's room. The house was dead quiet as he slipped inside, his breath slow and controlled. The glow of the moon showed John lying on the bed, fast asleep.
"You piece of shit, this would teach you a lesson john" Mason whispered in silence.
Mason felt a surge of adrenaline as he tiptoed across the room, his eyes scanning every corner for the magical wand and spell book he was looking for. He searched the drawers, under the bed, the shelves and everywhere but the magic items he was looking for were nowhere to be found.
"Damn it, where the hell is it?" Mason whispered under his breath as he was getting more frustrated with every second that passed.
In his frustration, Mason noticed something strange. Kept away in a small, ancient box in the corner of the room, it was a fitted garment. It looked like a super suit but there was something magical about it. The fabric bled slightly in the dark and he could feel an aura of power coming from it. Mason hesitated for a Monet as he was drawn to the suit's strange energy.
"What the hell is this?" Mason muttered, his hand was reaching to the suit before finally gripping it. It was sleek, almost weightless and the more he looked at it the more he realized this was no ordinary suitm There was magic carved into this fabric.
Though it wasn't what he had come for, the suit charmed Mason. Its power was undeniable and if he couldn't leave with John's wand and spell book, then maybe this suit could offer him the advantage he needed.
Mason clenched his teeth as he kept staying longer and searching for the item he really wanted. After a few tense moments, he made his decision to leave with the magical suit. With the magical suit held tightly in his hands, he moved out of the mansion as he had come.
As he went back into the cold night, he was frustrated he hadn't gotten the wand and the spell book but the suit wasn't what he wanted but carried it out of curiosity and believing it would give him the edge he needed.
Back into the darkness of the mansion grounds, Mason moves quickly but carefully, as he slipped away from the guards once again as he made his way to safety. His mind was still racing. He didn't expect this turn of events but he knew he couldn't go back empty handed. With the magical suit in his possession, he would have to find another way to get his wand.
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Chapter 128
The broken earth still smoked from the last clash, and the cries of the wounded hung faint in the air. Yet no one moved. No one breathed. Every soldier, every priest, every king, all stared at the figure of black fire that had stepped from the east.It was not whole. It was not finished. Yet it stood tall, crowned in flame, its body shifting like smoke made flesh.And when it spoke, the world shivered. “You cannot kill what is not finished.”The words slid into every ear like knives. Men cried out, clutching their heads. Some dropped their swords, stumbling back. Others turned and ran, their screams tearing across the field.The kings shouted, their voices desperate. “Hold the line!” “Stand, you fools!” But their words carried no weight. Fear moved faster than command.Priests fell to their knees, chanting broken prayers. Some wept, some tore at their robes, others stared at the shadow with glassy eyes, whispering, “It is the end. It is the end.”The line buckled. The army was breaki
Chapter 127
The drums did not stop. All through the night, they beat. Slow, heavy, endless. Each sound rolled across the valley like thunder, rattling armor, shaking bones.When dawn broke, the horizon burned black. The sky glowed as if it had been cut open, spilling fire darker than coal. From that fire, shapes began to march.The shadow host.Soldiers rose from their blankets, their eyes hollow with no sleep. They gripped spears and swords with trembling hands. Some prayed aloud, whispering the names of gods. Others kissed small tokens, rings, cloth, bits of home, before fastening armor with pale fingers.The kings argued even now.King Alaric shouted hoarse. “We cannot face this! Pull the banners back! Save the men while we can!”Queen Seraya snarled at him. “If we run, we are already dead. Do you not see? The shadow will chase us to the ends of the world!”Lord Brennar struck the table with his scarred fist. “Enough! The men need leaders, not cowards. If you flee, then flee. But I will stand.
Chapter 126
The march east did not grow easier. Each day the air grew heavier, darker, as if the very sky bent low with dread. The land was sick beneath their feet. Ash drifted over fields where no fire had been. The rivers they crossed ran black, thick as oil, and the priests whispered that the water carried curses.Soldiers grew silent. At first, they marched with songs and cheers. Now they moved with bowed heads, their boots dragging, their voices hushed. Every sound felt swallowed by the land itself.On the seventh day, they found a village burned to nothing. But unlike the others, this one held no corpses on the ground. Instead, the air carried whispers. Faint, chilling voices rose from the ashes, as if the dead still begged for water, for mercy, for life.The soldiers froze. Some clutched their ears, others fell to their knees. A priest cried out, “The shadow binds their souls! This is Vazquez’s work!”Mason stood in the center of the ruin, silent, his silver eyes scanning the ash. His s
Chapter 125
The messenger’s words still hung in the tent like smoke. “The east burns. Vazquez’s remnants gather. The shadow is not dead.”No one moved. The kings sat frozen, their crowns heavy on their heads, their eyes wide and pale. The generals stared at the messenger as though the words themselves were poison.It was Queen Seraya who spoke first. Her voice was low, sharp as a knife. “Then all our arguments mean nothing. If the shadow marches, none of us can stand alone.”King Alaric snarled, his hand clenching the table. “And you would put us all under him?” He jerked his chin toward the camp outside. “That… creature who walks in fire?”“Creature or not,” said Lord Brennar, his scarred hands steady, “he is the only one the men will follow now. You know it. I know it. Deny it if you wish, but the fire has already crowned him.”The tent erupted again. Voices clashed, curses flew, pride and fear filled the air like smoke, then the flap opened, and Mason entered.He did not storm in. He did not s
Chapter 124
The fire shuddered. The great column of flame, tall as a tower, trembled as though it would tear itself apart. Sparks burst in every direction. The heartbeat thundered, faster, stronger, rattling armor and splitting stone.Men screamed. Women wept. Some fell to their knees, pressing their foreheads into the ash. Others stumbled back, hands over their faces, crying that the fire would consume them all.The priests raised their arms higher, their voices shrill. “The Saint is here!” they shouted. “The Flame Eternal rises!”But even their cries cracked with fear, for the fire shook like a living beast ready to break free.The column of fire began to fold inward.At first it sank slowly, as if collapsing under its own weight. Sparks spiraled down, drifting like burning snow. The glow dimmed to gold, then to red, the edges shrinking smaller and smaller.A whisper spread through the crowd. “It’s fading. It’s over. He’s gone again.”Some soldiers sobbed in despair. Others sagged in relief, b
Chapter 123
The altar was gone. In its place stood fire. A column of flame towered from the earth, white at its heart, gold at its edges, sparks falling like embers of a forge. The light blinded the valley, brighter than sun, searing the eyes of all who looked upon it. Heat washed over the battlefield, heavy and suffocating.The heartbeat shook the ground again. Once. Twice. Steady, louder, stronger. Men fell to their knees, some in awe, others in terror. Priests shrieked and wept. Kings shielded their faces with their cloaks. Soldiers cried out to gods old and new. The flame pulsed. Shadows leapt and twisted across the broken stones. For an instant, shapes seemed to move inside the fire. One priest cried out, his eyes wide and wet. “I see him! The Saint walks with wings of fire!” He tore at his robe, beating his chest with bloody fists. “Bow! Bow before the Flame Eternal!”Another priest laughed, wild and broken. “No! Look! A crown of light rests upon his brow. He is the king of fire, ruler o
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