During Morgan’s time away from school he spent a lot of it in his parents library. They had moved since he joined Ridserra which ultimately meant he had an entire estate to himself, them being off in their second home out in the country. He spent his time reading, studying multiple different kinds of magic and conjuring up ways to become stronger. Dust collected everywhere, as far as the eye could see, spider webs wove loosely around books, dirtied shelves, and stands. There were row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, each section arranged in alphabetical order.
One book in particular had caught his eye. Hand running down the spine of the dusty old book, revealing the title, “Blood Magic”. Bound in red leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin volume smelt faintly of pipe tobacco, the kind his father smoked, and dust. The pages within were brittle and what remained of the book’s original stitching was barely holding it together. Delicately, Morgan opened the beaten cover of the leather book and flipped to the first page.
A faint scrawl on the inside of the cover declared that the book had originally belonged to his great, great grandfather, whom was a powerful mage. Morgan looked over to the next page, eyes scanning the slightly fading word as he devouver the information hungrily. He was starved for education and this, seemed like a good of place as any to start satisfying that hunger.
‘Blood magic, first and foremost, is the practice of using blood—life itself—as a potent fuel for casting spells.’
“Alright…” Morgan hummed, head tipping to the side as he processed it before nodding and continuing on, the first sentence itself had caught his attention, so there was no question that the rest of the book would also be just as intriguing. Morgan had only been told stories about
blood magic, it’s not a type that is taught in schools, for obvious reason, so he’d never had the chance to try it.
Morgan read further down the page: ‘This life may be supplied by either the mage or sacrifices, whether willing or unwilling. As such, the use of blood magic often allows a mage to cast spells that would otherwise be beyond the abilities of any mage.’
“Beyond the abilities of any mage, huh? We’ll have to see about that.” Morgan smirked and closed the book, tucking it away in his bag before heading out of the house. His mind was absent of the dark thoughts that had been running through his mind meer moments ago. He felt like he had another purpose, the purpose to study and get stronger, stronger than any wizard, stronger than any witch or mage known to man. He was going to become the most powerful blood mage and no one would be able to stop him.
⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙
The next morning at the break of dawn Morgan packed a small satchell, fleeing into the woods in order to practice and collect the essential materials for his new found hobby. He read the book religiously, eagerly trying to learn new spells and how to masterfully wield this new found power.
Flipping through the pages, he stopped on the materials page. It listed the multiple materials he needed in order to properly control such a powerful magic.
Blood, of course. That was a given. Liquid Lyrium, that itself was going to be tricky. Lyrium in its raw state is only able to be handled by dwarves since they hold a natural resistance to the powerful product. In order to get his hands on the ore, he’ll have to head into the mining Capital of Ridserra, Shoofrora.
Heading back in the direction of his home to gather his things, his determination unwavering as he threw the front door open, walking straight to the kitchen to collect the necessary items that would allow him to comfortably travel to Shoofrora. He threw extra food, small jugs of water and extra gold pieces into his bag along with a few empty vials his father had stored, a faint red tinge around the base of them. Looking at the vials with a snicker before putting them into his bag, they were used once before, they’d probably be used again. His father wouldn’t miss them. Fastening his staff to his back he slung the bag over his shoulder, leaving the house.
Surly the hike would take at least three days by foot but could be cut in half if he took a mount with him.
Making his way over to the stables, he approached the stall door of a gentle clydesdale. She was his pride and joy. With soft eyes that he could stare into forever, falling, but at the same time so still, they reflected promise. A heart made of love, slender profile, and a gorgeous sleek black coat. Leaning forward he rested his forehead against her muzzle.
“C’mon, girl. Let’s go.” Morgan whispered, before pulling back, throwing a lead around the mare’s neck, leading her into the centre of the small stable to be tacked and ready for their long trek. She seemed excited, like she knew they were going on a grand adventure, it made him smile, just a little. Her excitement was infectious. Tying her to a post just outside the stable he strode back inside, returning with the appropriate tack.
Quickly, he threw the saddle and saddle bags over the large horse’s back and tightened the girth, fastening the saddle to her back. Morgan patted his steed’s hind quarters gently before hoisting himself up and into the saddle. Looking out over his home once more he smiled, soon he’d be back, back with new power, unimaginable power.
⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙
DAY 1:
The thundering of hooves split the silence as Morgan and his horse galloped through the wooded landscape. The wind wisped his dark locks into the air like flames. The forest was an orchestra of the mind, playing one enchanting symphony after another. The leaves dance to an unheard beat, whispering the songs to the wind. In here, sheltered by the mighty trees, every kind of life, from the humble beetle to enchanting birds of every colour, existed. Fascinating really.
The sun peeking through the small openings from above, a brilliant white shaft illuminating the path that was before him. He could see the light getting brighter at the end of the tunnel as the sun began to set. Exiting the forest had seemingly transported him to a new plane of existence. Of course, he knew he wasn’t, but the night had swallowed the world around him, the darkness before them had a velvet quality, like the air had been thickened somehow. Without an upwards glance he knew that the sky was star speckled and cloudless. Allowing his horse to walk aimlessly he glanced around, trying to figure out where they could rest for the night before giving up.
Morgan dismounted and wandered over to a fallen tree, loosely tying the horse’s reins to it for the night.
“That’a girl.” Morgan spoke softly, reaching into the saddle bags he packed, he pulled out a jug containing water and a small container of bread. Sitting on the ground beneath the tree he settled down to eat, the mare grazing lazily by his side before calling it a night, making himself comfortable in the lush grass.
DAY 2:
Morgan shot awake suddenly, every thought in high definition. His eyes taking every ray of light as he slowly and carefully scanned his surroundings. The noises of the day were already in full swing, next to him, the mare gently pressed against his cheek with her nose, finding his wake up call he snorted, smiling gently once more as he sat up, body slightly damp with morning dew.
Pulling himself up, he walked over to the mare with a gentle smile, running his hand through her mane gently as he grounded himself. There were so many times he had found himself here, next to the gorgeous mare, in times of stress, in times of struggle. The mare held more of his secret than any book would be able to contain. Untying her from the tree, he once again pulled himself up to settle in the saddle to set off.
They’d make town by lunch if they were fast enough, and the mare was definitely fast enough when given her head. Urging her to move, she seemed just as excited if not more so than him to be moving. Wind rushing through his hair, determination laced over his face as the sun lit up their path. The thundering of hooves setting his heart at ease, soon, soon he’d be able to learn more than that school could ever offer him.
As the sun hit dead center in the sky, Morgan slowed the mare to a walk as they strode into a village, dwarves everywhere. Snickering he looked around at them all, it was rather amusing, their height, considering he would now be considered the tallest among them. And this was upon the mare, he was sure it would be more amusing once he stepped down.
Who knew looking down on people could be so much fun? He did, obviously, but it was even better in a literal sense.
“Excuse me, I need Lyrium. Do you know where I can obtain it?” He had called to no one in particular, annoyed when he had received no reply, dismounting the mare he looked to the dwarves with disgust, walking through the village slowly.
“I knew dwarves were small, I didn’t know they were uneducated too. Don’t you speak?” He huffed, watching as eyes turned and glared from all directions, a smirk on Morgan’s lips as he looked to the crowd that had gathered.
“We’ll now I know you can at least hear. But I still need to know, where can I find Lyrium, in it’s processed form of course.” He smirked, watching as hands had shot in a line, guiding him, hopefully to where he would be able to find what he came for.
“Much obliged.” He hummed, walking along happily, coaxing the mare to follow along with him. Reaching into the saddle bag once more he pulled out the book, flipping a few pages as he continued on with researching. Humming softly as he followed the trail of pointing hands in his peripheral vision.
“A pentagram... that’s a bit extreme. Oh, no, it just has to be a magical symbol, silly me. I should probably read the paragraphs in full shouldn’t I, my dear.” He cooed to the horse, stopping briefly as he looked to the store he had arrived at, tucking the book under his arm. “Wait here for me. I’ll be out shortly.”
Entering the shop, he looked around, listening the the bell above him jingle briefly, before the pattering of feet and gasp. Turning to see a small woman.
“Oh, sorry, you’re not who I thought you were.”
“And who did you mistake me for?”
“No one in particular.”
Morgan huffed and rolled his eyes, looking around the shop before over to the woman.
“I need Lyrium, in a processed state so I may be able to handle it.”
“Of course, may I ask what for.”
“Magic.”
He huffed, eyes rolling once again as he pulled the book from under his arm, flicking it open once more as his eyes scanned the page, listening to the dwarf retreat and then return. The first spell he would try written out neatly in front of him. Looking to the woman once more she had paused, a vial in her hands and eyes fixated on the book.
“Oh no, you can’t.” “Can’t, what?!”
“Where did you find that book?”
“In my father’s library.”
“Your fathers… oh, so… that’s why you looked familiar… I beg of you, please. Do not meddle with blood magic.” She pleaded, holding the lyrium to her chest as she backed up slowly.
“I do what I want.” He hissed, crossing the store quickly, eyebrows narrowing as he snatched the vial from her hands. “And I want Lyrium, so I can study because I want to be the strongest and there’s nothing in that puny little body of yours that can stop me.”
The woman cowered, if he was in fact the son of who she thought he was then there was something gravely wrong… The other had never been this aggressive.
“O..-okay… that’ll be… t-t-twe…-”
“You think I’m paying for this? Pfft, that’s your mistake for trying to screw me over. I’m taking this.” He spat once more, swirling the lyrium in the bottle watching it mix, turning on his heels he walked off slowly.
“You! You can’t!”
“I can and I will!” He growled, looking over his shoulder as he opened the door. There was something feral in the way he held himself, one wrong move and he’d bite. The woman swallowed hard before yelling.
“Thief!”
“Oh you little…-” He was cut off as the noise of arriving guards started in his direction. Running out the store, he quickly mounted the mare who had patiently waited outside, holding the vial in one hand as he urged her into a gallop as the mare ran through the village. Looking over his shoulder he watched as others gained on him, just because they were dwarves, didn’t mean they didn’t have their own mode of transport. Putting the vial into one of the saddlebags he haphazardly fumbled for his staff, he watched as the orb glowed at his touch. Aiming carefully, he slammed it against the ground without disturbing the mare’s gait, watching as vines erupted from the ground behind him, creating a large wall to separate him from the on coming mob.
Letting out a sigh of relief, he allowed the mare to continue to gallop out of the village, leaving it behind them in their literal and metaphorical dust.
The sun fell as they reached the woods once more, as much as resting sounded like a good idea, getting home by morning sounded better. His next stop would be returning home. With the lyrium safe in the saddle bag next to him, his plans were going better than before.
Though if he were to get more, he’d probably have to send someone else in his place. He knew he wouldn’t be let back in so easily next time.
DAY 3:
The moon guided him through the woods until he reached the familiar sights of town, face screwing up at the mere sight of it as he slowed the mare into a trot. Walking through the seemingly abandoned town, it was better at night, no staring, glaring, judging faces.
The way home was quiet and uninterrupted, the moon sitting high in the sky as he finally reached the estate, studying would have to wait. He would practice in the morning when he was fully awake and mentally prepared. Leading the mare back to her stables he smiled to her gently. Untacking her and brushing her down before disappearing and reappearing with small pail of oats as a thanks, leading her out to the paddocks for her own much needed rest. People could glare all they wanted, but nothing mattered more to him than the opinion of his horse. And with a playful nudge of approval, she had given him all the opinions he desired.
“Good girl, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed before leaving, carrying the saddle bags into the estate before tipping the contents onto the kitchen table, smiling as he lifted the vial of Lyrium, swirling it around with a gleeful grin on his lips.
Settling it back down, his attention turned towards the book, using the moonlight that filtered through the kitchen window to illuminate the pages, he could wait and do this in the morning, but how fun would that be?
“Let's see here,” he mumbled to himself as he flipped through the pages of the spell book.
“Looks like I've got everything I need, except...blood.” He pondered for a moment, thinking on the options of how to obtain the most vital of materials for the magic. He could use his own, but was unsure of how much he was willing to commit just yet. No point hurting himself if this doesn’t even work.
Fingers tapping on the wood of the table, he let his eyes wander around the kitchen, maybe he could find a mouse in the estate… or… his eyes stopped, looking out the window as a light bulb went off inside his head. He knew exactly where to go. Eyes trailing the dusted path that lead to a collection of trees, he could feel the excitement bubbling up inside his chest.
Quickly, Morgan threw most of the items back into his bag, grabbing his staff in one hand and the lyrium in the other he used the glowing orb as a source of light to illuminate his path. Fleeing into the woodlands behind his parents estate he slowed at the entrance, tipping the staff down towards the ground as he went searching.
He didn't have to go very far before he made a gruesome discovery. Finding exactly what he needed to.
Taking a step back from the carcass, he settled himself onto the ground just away from it, the smell alone was stinging his eyes and he wasn’t sure if he’d manage to stand the smell much longer than he needed to. Pulling the spell book from the bag, he noted the diagram, making extra notes of the writing that surrounded it, runes most likely.
Dragging his staff through the dirt, he drew the symbol within the dirt. Referring back to the diagram at any point he was unsure, he had to get this perfect, or atleast near perfect if he wanted it to work.
“There. That ought to do it.” He muttered to himself, resting his free hand on his hip as he looked down at the animal carcass and the symbol drawn around it. Returning to the bag he pulled out the vial of Lyrium, carefully diluting it with water. Tipping a small drop into the open chest of the animal on the ground he watched as it began to mix and mingle with the blood around it, pulsing softly, a gentle glow illuminating the ground. The air around him was heavy, pressing on his shoulders. Lifting his staff, he held it over the carcass, taking a deep breath in as he focused all his energy.
“Using blood, I do swear.
Fire, Earth, Water, Air.
Rewrite, undo, this being’s fate,
bring them back, reanimate.”
With each verse, the glowing spread, the carefully written symbols, too, pulsed as if mimicking a heart, as quickly as it had started, it also stopped. Fronwing, Morgan scoffed, looking at the still, seemingly lifeless body on the ground.
Turning around, he walked back to the saddle bag, putting everything away slowly. What a waste of time.
“You should really be careful. Maybe next time try a rabbit or something… not a predator?”
Looking up he noted the arrival of a boy, he couldn’t be much older than himself, maybe even younger. But there was something in his eyes that told Morgan he had seen a lot.
“Oh yea? And why so, it didn’t even work.” Morgan spat, acting all high and mighty.
“Turn around,” the other replied.
Skeptical, Morgan did as told, only to be faced with an unhinged jaw. Blood dripping over it’s broken lower jaw as it stood frozen in time mid-pounce. Stumbling backwards, he leant up against a nearby tree, focusing on his breathing as for once in his life, startled. Eyes trailing after the unknown boy he watched as slowly, the being was pushed backwards, not so much pushed as it was, rewound. As it settled back in its original position, dead once more, they boy sighed, hunching over as he caught his breath.
“What was that?” Morgan asked, stunned.
“What was what?” The other joked, playfully.
“That... rewindy thing.”
“Exactly that.”
Screwing up his face, Morgan picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder, holding his staff close to himself as he examined the, strangely skinny wizard in front of him. He was small, petite even and yet, he held such a strong power. Maybe even more powerful than the headmaster, if he could beat this kid in a fight then...
“Fight me.”
“No thanks.”
“What do you mean no thanks?!”
“I mean, no. I’m tired. It takes a lot out of me… Doing that kind of stuff. Recoil.”
Morgan huffed, smacking his staff into the ground. Watching as the ground erupted as it had done in the classroom, watching it tangle around the boys ankle and then… untangle and pause, just away from him. Watching the boy walk off slowly, eyes on him the whole time, Morgan screwed up there face. He couldn’t just… Moving to follow after him proved just as difficult. Seeing as he too, was paused in place.
“How did you find me?”
“I like your horse. I watched you ride through town and followed.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home!”
“Where’s that.”
“Crimson Base…”
“Where?” Instead of an answer to the question he was hoping for, the boy called back an answer to the question he hadn’t.
“You drew one of the symbols wrong, by the way, that’s why it was delayed.”
Grumbling, Morgan waited until the boy had turned away, as soon as his eyes were no longer trained on him, he was free. Scrambling over to the book, he slowly looked over the diagram and the pattern in the dirt. He was right.
One of them had been drawn wrong. He was going to need a lot more practice.
[3632 words] (I'm sorry omg)