Under your spell 🔞

Twenty-Two

It was now September, and the two of them had been there for months, studying, training. Stephen knew that Thea was missing home, and he felt guilty, that he was the reason she stayed. Each day he saw her, it was as though the light inside her was dying. She was no longer happy and bubbly, but quiet and withdrawn.

He could tell that she would fake smiles for others, and joined in on conversations when spoken to, but otherwise, she was quiet and reserved. He could see the circles under her eyes begin to darken, and every time he mentioned they could leave, she shook him off, determined to see this through.

Glancing over at her as she trained with Dahlia, he saw the ancient one watching her, and he turned back to Mordo, adjusting his wrists straps... 'So, just how ancient is she?..'

Mordo looked up at him, as he strapped up his boots... 'No one knows the age of the sorcerer supreme. Only that she's celtic and never talks about her past..'.. He stands, and the two take a stance.

'You follow her, even though you don't know?..'.. Stephen asks him.

'I know she's steadfast, but unpredictable. Merciless yet kind. She made me what I am..'.. Mordo gives him a knowing smile... 'Much like Thea. You would follow her..'

They take their stances, facing off with one another... 'Trust your teacher and don't lose your way..'

'Like Kaecillius?..'.. Stephen circles around.

'That's right..'... Mordo says, before attacking. The two fight, and Stephen grips him in a hold.

'You knew him?..'.. He asked, and Mordo pulled from the grip, putting Stephen in a headlock.

'When he first came to us, he'd lost everyone he ever loved. He was a grieving, broken man searching for answers in the mystic arts. A brilliant student, but he was proud, headstrong. He questioned the ancient one, rejecting her teaching..'.. Stephen elbows him, and steps out of the hold, rubbing his neck, and looking over to Thea, seeing her fight flawlessly.

'He left Kamar-Taj. His disciples followed him like sheep. Seduced by false doctrine..'.. Mordo pants out, walking around.

'And he stole the forbidden ritual, right?..'.. Stephen turns back to him, sighing.

'Yes..'..

'What did it do?..'.. He frowns at him.

'No more questions..'.. Mordo picks up a staff from the rack.

'Whats that?..'.. Stephen asks, watching him.

'That's a question..'.. Mordo points at him with the staff and Stephen chuckles.

'This is a relic..'.. Mordo holds it in his fist... 'Some magic is too powerful to sustain, so we imbue objects with it, allowing them to take the strain we cannot. This is the staff of the living tribunal..'.. He holds it in both hands and pulls, making it into a small whip, and he hits the ground with it, before it snaps back into a staff.

'There are many relics. The wand of watoomb. The vaulting boots of valtorr..'.. He kicks the ground, making Stephen look down at them.

'Really just roll of the tongue, don't they?..'.. He quips, as they circle one another again... 'When do we get our relics?..'

Mordo chuckles... 'When you are ready..'

'I think we're ready..'.. Stephen nods at him.