THE MAGICK TRIALS VOL. 1 | 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡

--NINE-- (Edited)

A black muzzle appeared in front of his eyes. Then a softly pointed upside-down triangular face materialized with bright blue eyes and long pointed gray-tipped ears. A lean muscular black-furred body took shape as the smoke faded away. Winding around the serval's stomach was a large cobra with crystal green eyes. They blinked at him.

Then a howl. A dark shape slowly appeared in the ghostly fog. It had ragged gray fur and a droopy-furred tail. Large paws crumpled grass underneath the wolf's body.

"Conssstantine," the snake hissed, enunciating the s.

"Delarrrue," the serval added, rolling her rs.

"You are a fallen warrior," the wolf barked gruffly, "from the legendary Clan of AzyreLand called CattusClan." The wolf tossed his head and pawed the ground, his great fur shaking tremendously. Constantine blinked at him.

"You are-aren't you Loyalty's Counterpart?!" Constantine burst out. The wolf shook his head dismissively.

"Somehow," he scoffed, "That boy has one percent loyalty out of a hundred! I don't even know how he was able to be named 'loyalty'!" The wolf tossed his head once more, a little arrogantly. "I'm Steel." he growled.

"Enough, Steel," the serval meowed loudly, "We're here too." Then she flicked her tail to Constantine.

"Shariah!" Constantine gasped, "How?"

"We'll help you on your quest," she purred simply, "That's all you need to know for now. If we need to communicate, we will, in your dreams."

Then all three Counterparts disappeared, and Constantine slipped into another vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile...

Gray clouds billowed in a crystal blue sky. He gazed up, rubbing his index and middle fingers on his temples. He was one of the last necromancers from the CattusClan. And one of the last people from CattusClan. Period.

When he was younger, five years ago, when he was twelve, he was outcast from his family for having a birthmark on his right temple of a four-point star; the sign of a necromancer.

Necromancers were considered servants for Death herself. And, in a way, they technically were.

There was a song, that was sung to apprentice necromancers, about Death. And at this moment, he found it perfect to sing it in the creepy smoky mountain peak. Fortunately, it was also the ritual. The song made the shiver down his spine cease for just a moment.

He sighed and began the song.

"Once, long ago, in a time without the stars, and the moon, was a maiden with a large destiny. The gods told her to wait for the song of wolves. When it came, she transformed. She cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, while the wind pulled her up to the sky. Her tears of light twinkled on the sky. Creating what we know as stars," he sang.

"Angry as she was to the gods, she became Death. When she would yell her agony, somebody would fall into her trap. She had called to people from the earth, to become her helpers to make death be birth," he sang. A second voice joined him in the last sentence. It was his partner necromancer, Indila.

"Doing the ritual, Ariav?" she asked. Ariav grimaced.

"It's the only way we can be Master Necromancers," he said.

"Ooh, you said we!" Indila cried, her eyes lighting up.

"Yeah," Ariav said, "Come on, let's continue."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gladys sipped on her hawthorn tea. It had magick to make her ask the most keen questions and know how to pry out answers easily.

"How's our prisoner?" she asked smoothly. Zacharyas had his back turned as he was preparing the doses of Countaria Dispariticia Virus, which he called 'medicine'.

My puppet, she thought, My faithful puppet. All I need to do is to dispose of his daughter... or control her... or scare her into obedience like her stupid father.

"Zacharyas!" she barked. "I asked you a que-"

"Good! He's doing good!" Zacharyas yelped frantically. Gladys glared at him.

"He better be." she hissed. Her crow Counterpart clicked his onyx beak. "He better be, Zacharyas. He better be," the crow clacked. Gladys shot her Counterpart a fond look.

"Yes, Zacharyas, listen to Obsidian," she whispered dangerously, "Listen to my dear. Or else." Zacharyas flinched.

"Yes," he said. Gladys stood up suddenly.

"I'm done," she snapped, "Let me see the boy."

"Yes, yes," Zacharyas mumbled, "I shall come with you with the tray?"

"Yes," Gladys breathed venomously, "Let's pay this triumph of a boy a visit."