Parker

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He was not a man who believed in prophecies, whatever they were.

But being a magician that he was—or half of magician—they were almost inevitable. People were talking, especially the Clan that took him, and he found it difficult to shut their voices down. He went in and out of the Divine Room in Atalea just to please his clan members. He had been brought to various magicians and Magus just to confirm that he was danger-free.

But, of course, he was not. He was Parker Sebastian—the Impossible, the Living Nightmare, the Lingering Dark, and other sorts of ridiculous titles people had given him. Currently, he was one of the most powerful immortals in the world, who were both magical and deadly. Of course, he had to live with opponents and menace.

He was an asset for the Sebastians—he knew this one for sure, too. They were afraid of losing him, even though he knew he didn't plan to linger around them forever. But they had been a help for Parker, if family wasn't the right term. With them his jobs turned out to be easier. With them he at least had a decent place to stay, food to eat, and weapons to defend himself without the fear of being killed or literally stabbed from behind due to his values.

In return, there was a price to pay: he had to obey their favors. So now he was meeting a Magus in a room which walls were glowing in shades of blue, projecting out unfathomable symbols and predictions that were to be the prophecies.

"Touch me, young man," said the Magus. Parker rolled his eyes and obeyed. When his hand touched the Magus's, he felt the current slipping into his brain, and suddenly he felt a sensation of something plugging itself into his brain.

And then he saw it. It was only a grayish shadow at first, its sight was too blurred out for him to see. But with a flash he saw a face.

Parker's heart stopped.

He lost the vision again, and his gasp must have been noticeable because the Magus flinched.

"Who's that?" Parker blurted out, almost rising out his voice. "Who was the boy that I saw?"

"Parker," Venia, his assistant, said in slight assertiveness. "Be respectful to the Magus. Mage Vutoir, my sincerest apologies—"

"I don't care who he is—" Parker growled to Venia, only to be disturbed by the Magus's voice.

"I can't see who he is, I only spark the vision in your head, young man." It bothered Parker that the Magus addressed him as that. They were about the same age, and counting back to his immortal years, Parker might be older. "But now I've enlightened you to the enemy that we are tracking."

Enemy. Parker couldn't believe it at first, but the glance he had with the boy inside his head had made his blood boil in his system. He went through a burn when he noticed that pair of eyes. Suddenly, he felt himself in danger.

He wasn't seeing a boy—he was seeing his death.

"I switch on this enlightenment inside of you, Mr. Sebastian," said Vutoir. "They will keep coming from now on. Most probably in your sleep ... just expect some disturbances in them, I guess."

"Disturbances?" Parker croaked out. "What do you mean?"

"Nightmares," Mage Vutoir explained. "There will be nightmares. Just brace yourself." The Magus pulled his hand to his sides and tucked his wand into his robe pocket. There was a look on his face that bothered Parker; everything could be upsetting to him at the moment. He took a chance to have a deep breath.

"The rest is your job, young man," the Magus said, and Parker snarled to that call again. "You are the Impossible One—I'm pretty sure you can trace who this enemy is."

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