It breathes through me, it's undescribable, it feels good, soo good...
The feeling of magic feels wonderful; when you're at full strength, you're unstoppable, you feel great, confident, and powerful- You feel like a superior. Magic feeds you- and you harness the power given to you. It's a system, a good one that pays, and pays...
But when you don't have that power of magic, or you're exhausted, you feel horrible- sleepy, tired, hungry, weak, scared, worried, and doubtful; doubtful that you'll get that feeling back. Magic is a drug, something you have to keep on taking and taking, until you know you're ready to let go of it; also like a drug, it's hard to keep the addiction away, it always comes back to strike at you, no matter what you do. You keep on wanting more and more, like a drug, and the hunger might end up to be your demise.
But you just have to deal with it.
If I had the choice, I wouldn't be born with such power; It's soo much responsibility. You get flashes, you see the flashes of random colors when you're focusing too much in your spells, but you have to control it; stay in it, as my grandfather would say. You can't leave, but you also can't focus too much; doing either of these will overload your mind, and possibly, kill you. It did to my father. He tried to teleport the whole audience to a different location, but the amount of power it took... it sucked in his life essence, and ended up killing him in front of the crowd. His body was immediately taken away by a group of people in cloaks, that I haven't seen since. My father had a funeral, but it was closed casket. My mother still has suspicions about that to this day, and that maybe he is a live, or the casket really didn't contain his body, but I choose not to question either side; I just believed in what I saw. And I still do to this day.
Magic is primarily spoken in to Latin, though a magicians language, called Magua, has came about, and it has also been used for modern needs. It has more pizzazz into it, and it's a lot louder to speak. Latin sounds ancient, and well, overused. I mainly use Latin, though my grandfather uses Magua, as Latin reminds him of the days when Magic was primitive. Well that's just me.
My magic use is very limited; my spells mainly consist of tricks, and "defensive" spells. I know the basics, and well, it's very embarrassing. Now, my grandfather is a pro. He used to be in a organization, where magic was a way of life; a way to survive. But after the group disbanded, and the secret organization set to go against magic users was created, My training can go no further. I practice myself, with my fathers old magic book. He was very powerful, perhaps the strongest there had ever been; but eventually, even the strongest fall to the scariest, most deadly thing a magician can imagine: Lust. Lust was weakness, my Grandfather says, and my father had lots of it. He wanted more power; Don't get me wrong, they tell me he was a kind, modest man, but when it came to magic- Power wasn't enough. He wanted to be the strongest, untouched by anyone. And he got there. But it wouldn't last forever. Lust makes you need more and more mana, a substance that is hard to come by now these days. Mana can only be refilled through a ritual, that requires some time. And pray that the magic appeases to you. If they don't, well too bad, and better luck next time. But if they do, the magic respects you, and you prove you, treat your magic with "respect."
I don't even know how my father got to use his magic that much, and the essence thinks he's treating it with respect.
I always wondered why I can't be naturally powerful; a force to be reckoned with- something no one wants to see in their face, filled with rage- but instead I'm just the school clown. I play around, hang out with the "cool" kids sometimes, and maybe, once in a while, show off my skills. I'm your average 16 year old, in your normal high school. But the only difference about me is that I'm a real magician-the real deal-no strings attached. Some people think other guys have secrets, but I can assure you, that my secrets are above many peoples beliefs, that is, until they see me in the act of magic. My powers are extreme to a normal persons extent, but otherwise, weak compared to others in my family. So much to live up to- your father being the strongest ever, your grandfather being the head of a former secret organization, and one of your ancestors being amongst the first magicians in the world- you get the point.
Magic isn't something that one simply gains- you have to have a flow about you, or be gifted with it. The only way to be gifted with it is by meeting one of the Tempest Dragons, who will see if you deserve those powers. Now the Tempest Dragons are extinct, and you have to go through years of training to get the powers- unless, you were born of one of those who met the Tempest Dragons. My ancestors name was Delgo Wiseman- the first ever magician ever. He was strong, even though the art of magic had just began. First he was a blacksmith in the village, who worked long hours and hard weeks, who could barely afford anything. But after the sighting of the Tempest Dragons by the royalty, they were threatened to be killed. Delgo then started the organization to defend the Tempest Peak, where the Tempest Dragons reside. After a constant battle, Delgo finally won, and with that came the powers of magic. It was wonderful- Delgo dreamed of a huge magic kingdom, and a place where the Magicians could associate, and work together, to keep their cause alive. But eventually, all the Tempest Dragons were killed, and Delgo beheaded- but not before he told his family to run to the hills. At first the family name was the Wesecci's- but then the name was changed to Wiseman after leaving to Britain, and the family tree still continued then. Their name changed because of the wanting of the Wesecci family throughout Europe. My father is of Italian descent- whereas my mother is of Jamaican descent.
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"WALLACE!!!" screamed Mother.
"Coming," I replied "Just doing some studying."
"Crap Wallace, you can't be doing that studying all the time! I know you're studying magic son, but that's only one big jumble of trouble."
"Ma, I'm just a little curious, can you give me a little break?"
"Son, you know what magic did to your father..."
"Ma, please. I do know. But that won't stop me- I want to learn more, and become a magician."
"A magicians job is just a bag of trouble son. Why not play some basketball, like your friends?"
"Friends," I moaned under my breath. They're just a bunch of jerks that make fun of other people, and have me along to show their girlfriends some magic- it's rinse, wash and repeat everyday.
"Son, come on, just stop that magic!"
"Ma, just let me do what I want; I'm only practicing a little bit."
If I hadn't been so caught up in the conversation, I would've used a detection spell to spot my grandfather right behind me- but I was too late.
"SURPRISE!!!" Grandpa yelled, with his loud, thundering voice.
"Holy-" Mother said.
"Ouch!" I said while I tried to clear my ears. He was just that loud.
Grandpa then pulls a dove out of nowhere- what a mundane trick- but sure enough to entertain my mother. But I decide to one up him...
"Boom!" I yelled, while I made everything on the counter float- from the toaster to the knives and plates, set out for breakfast.
"Dear god you two," my Mother grunted, "Please stop using that magic!"
"Hey, it runs in the family! He's a Wiseman boy, or a Wisecci man for that matter."
"Oh god no."
"Oh god yes!"
I looked towards my grandfather, and grinned at him. He grinned back, and we laughed almost immediately.
"You two," Mother said, cleaning up the mess she made when she screamed, "Are jerks."
