ATLANTION - LAYLA BOOK1

Part 64 Farrar

As Farrar stepped into the magical guild labs, the familiar smell of burnt chemicals and rust filled his nostrils. The room was dimly lit, and the equipment was covered in layers of dust and grime, just as he remembered it. His father was still searching for a cure for his long-dead mother, and Farrar couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness wash over him.

"He has a kind heart," whispered his mother in his ear before she passed away. The memory of her soft voice and gentle touch was like a warm embrace, even though he wasn't there with her when she took her last breath. He was out searching for a damn cure, a cure for the dark magic that was eating away at her health. She was a victim of the society they lived in, a product of the fear that magic, as such, was disappearing from this world.

But was it magic in the way humans understood it? No, it was not. This so-called magic was nothing more than science, a different science than the one humanoids that spread atop the earth interpreted. Their magic was linked to their genetics, the ability to source energy around them and use it. There is energy everywhere, in the sun, from movement, from the wind, and living things. Using the energy of a living thing was the darkest of all, and not many were still able to perform it. Their dark race blended with others, and their talents started to dissipate, their powers, their identity. And when this panic started to rise, the inbreeding between close families started; it created dark-blood magicians with bodies that were devoured by their power, the power to outsource energy from other living things, to move it, transform it.

Farrar couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the dark magicians and what they were capable of. He was lucky enough that his father was a bastard, a literal bastard, and he did not get the putrid genes. And he was found lacking, not that his mother ever cared when she chose him as her husband. The mad scientist that always looked for power and the woman that had too much of it.

"Let him be, my precious boys," she used to tell them when their father disappeared for days or weeks in his laboratory. The experiments were mild and most humble, but all that was at the beginning. With each year, the condition of his mother worsened, and the experiments his father conducted became crueler, to the point when she passed away they became unspeakable.

Farrar looked down at his hands, and he felt the ice fill his veins. For a second, he could still feel his brother twitching while he was holding him. He couldn't help but wonder why he was holding his brother. His brother, his precious brother's mind, was eroding from the magic he inherited. He got the short straw it seems. Farrar, on the other hand, was a more half-human and half-energy manipulator, as he liked to call himself. He did not fancy being called a dark magician. This name magician implied a drinker, and he was doing none. This fancy name was imported from the uppers and loved by so many in his community. They long forgot about their race, about their past.

He wondered what Layla would think about him if only she knew about his past. What would she say? Would she run away screaming?

She was now Princess Lorelai, the Bloody Princess Heir. It is a wonder she turned so sweet and gentle with a mother like that. From stories he heard about the woman when he was little, one would think she would spawn demons, not people.

The vivid image of Diolanda's red burning hair on the horizon lingered in his mind, and he could almost smell the acrid scent of smoke and charred flesh. The memory of her vengeful eyes made his heart race, and he shuddered as he recalled the stories of her ferocity.

But despite her terrifying reputation, she was undeniably beautiful. He remembered how her fair skin and cherub features had once captivated him before he learned of her deadly abilities. It was almost as if her beauty was a trap, luring unsuspecting victims into her deadly embrace.