***The Search will be updated as regularly scheduled this weekend; however, as the Search is coming to an end in the not so distant future, I want to see what you all think of a couple possible stories to replace it as my next ongoing boyXboy series. You'll have a least 3 story options!***
"Hurry up, Tate!" Sebastian yells over the running water.
I don't know what the big deal is, we still have fifteen minutes until we have to be downstairs. With all the other students running around like idiots to get everything ready for our newest honoured guest, it seemed like the perfect time to get a nice hot shower all to myself. Having a moment of privacy is a scarce commodity at this school.
"Hurry up, the Fourth Magistrate is going to be here any minute!" he screams, as if it has any meaning to me. I'm not high born like Sebastian is. I don't know who any of the thirteen Magistrates, their families, or what their so-called "great achievements" are. Three weeks ago, we had the Seventh Magistrate visit, beaming with pride to tell us about her grandmother's achievement of adding blue to the school crest, and her new mission to renovate the library.
"If you're in such a rush, why don't you come in here and drag me out?" I ask.
Even though I can't see him, I can feel his disapproving glare as his prudish upbringing holds him back from imagining anything so vulgar. "You know, I'm the only person at this school stupid enough to care whether or not you get punished for being late." He's probably right, but he's also the only person in this school I give a damn about, so it all balances out.
I turn off the water, and pull back the curtain. Sebastian is standing there in his formal robes, pure white with blue accents, gold buckles, and an emblazoned family insignia over his heart. He has my robes in his arms. There is no way I could have gotten back to the dorm and downstairs in time. I'd be screwed without him.
"Forgot your towel again?" Sebastian asks as I step out of the shower, the final beads of water dripping down my naked form.
"Nope, I just thought you wanted me to be fast," I say, conjuring a swirling gust of wind to dry me off. In normal circumstances, I would consider such an unnecessary show of magic extravagant, but the school is steeped in magic. And it's not just the people and the books that are filled with it, every stone, every plant, every bead of water is a source of mystic strength. This is where boys become sorcerers.
Unlike Sebastian, my robes lack any embellishments or insignias. They're plain white. My simple robes denote my common birth, with no achievements to my family name. If only everyone knew where I really came from, I doubt they would ever allow me to wear white.
I quickly tie my sash and roll my socks up to my thigh. I hate these robes.
"We need to go now!" Sebastian says as soon as I finish tying my shoe laces.
"One second," I say. His hair got all dishevelled by my wind spell. Good for drying, bad for hair. I quickly, run my hands across his scalp and go for the whole messy clean look.
He looks in the mirror quickly, to make sure I didn't make it worse, and then grabs my arm, dragging me along as he sprints down towards the main hall. A thank you would have been nice.
"So, who is this fourth Magistrate that everyone is so worked up about?" I ask as I run beside Sebs. He stops in his tracks and almost dislocates my shoulder as I keep running.
"You really don't know?"
"Did his great great great great great great grandmother introduce beer to the common folk so they wouldn't be able to catch on to the whole magic thing?"
Sebs face is flat. "He killed Aneris."
Aneris is, more or less the magic devil, an ancient evil sorceress who destroys kittens, rainbows, and everything good in the world. And the Magistrate killed her.
"Let's hurry up," I say, bringing Sebs back into the moment. He starts to sprint again.
When we arrive at the great hall, all of the students are lined up in their formal white robes, a wall of white fabric with two conspicuous holes.
The Headmaster's eyes narrow on us as we scurry into position, but before he can scold us, there are three thumps against the massive wooden door. His lips curl up against the natural droop of his old wrinkly face and, with a flick of his wrist, the door opens for our guest.
As soon as I see a familiar face and my heart begins to quicken. I've been caught.
He stands there, tall, and strong. His curly brown locks fall against the strong chiseled face. As he steps inside, the other students start to applaud. It takes me a moment to realize that he is the legendary magistrate.
The other great sorcerers are old, relying on their age and wisdom, but the Fourth Magistrate is young and virile, propped up to his position by acts of bold heroism. To most people, he'd be a dream, but this moment is my greatest nightmare.
All I can do is stand in line and hope he doesn't recognize me. I bury my emotions; my fear, my anger, my hate, they're not real. If I refuse to acknowledge them, they don't exist.
As he makes his way down the line of students, he stops for a moment, right in front of me and looks into my eyes. He recognizes me, but he doesn't say anything.
_____________________________________________________
When I was young, my father would say to me, "There are two types of people who, those who wield power and those who are crushed by it." I called him my father, but lord knows which type of person he was. He had sad little brown eyes, a small frame, and a broken down spirit. Any ambition he once had was gone long before I was born.
It has always been clear to me that no part of my self came from him. I'm a bastard through and through. It's not just that I look nothing like him, I've always been strong and slender with light hair and bright green eyes, but behind those eyes I had a flame of ambition and power that he could never comprehend.
As soon as I was old enough, I ran. As strong as my ambition was, I knew that if I stayed in a small town to be raised by a cuckold, I would eventually be as broken as all the people around me. Back then, I believed that there were only two types of people in the world, and since I wouldn't be crushed, I needed to find some real power. I needed magic.
I won't pretend that my life back then was any better than it was.
I wasn't born with magic, and finding it was no simple task. I searched everywhere I could, from open fields to hidden caverns, to dark alleyways. Eventually, I fell into a deep dark abyss of depravity, and then I discovered that my path to power was a feather bed.
I sold myself for magic. I let them use me just to have a taste of them, to feel their power.
In the abyss, sorcerers would indulge. It's not that those with magic are any more perverted than anyone else, it's just that they are the ones who have the means to make their fantasies reality. And so, I played their twisted games in exchange for a little piece of their power.
Then one morning I woke up with a big burly arm wrapped around me, and a cold ring pressed between my back and his chest. I could feel the magic coursing through it. Everything I ever wanted was within my grasp, and so I took it. I used up all the magic I had gathered up until then to extend his slumber as I ripped the ring from his neck and ran.
_____________________________________________________
I knock upon the door to Magistrate's suite. He requested my presence tonight. Without the Headmaster's permission, it is nearly impossible for a student to leave the school, and attempting to flee would only prove my guilt.
"Hello, Magistrate," I say to him.
Inside the room, he is dressed in his night robes, far too casual for a man of his stature to meet with a student. "Call me Varin."
"The head master told me you wished to speak, Magistrate. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"You know, I spent a lot of time looking for you," He says, making his way towards me, "and then you just appeared in front of me, like destiny."
I take a step back, hoping to keep my distance. "The ring is gone."
"I can see that, the magic is in you now, so I suppose you're mine now," he says, slowly backing me towards the wall. I won't let him force me into a corner, I stand firm, holding my ground. I own my space in the room.
"I don't belong to anyone," I say.
"For a millionth of the magic in my ring, you sold yourself for a night. Shouldn't fair payment be having you serve me for a million nights?" He puts his hands on my face, drawing me towards him. His hands are smoother than I remember. "Why don't we save time, and have you take off your robes now. We both know you don't belong in them."
I put my hand on his, the little hairs on his wrist tickling my palm as I pull his hand from my face. "What would you suggest a student of this school should wear?"
Undeterred, he leans in and licks my ear lobe. "You are no student of this school. You're a whore and a thief. And when you are in front of me, you should be wearing nothing."
I lean in and kiss him one last time. I reach under his robe and feel his sculpted chest as I bite his lower lip. At first he thinks I'm being playful, but I don't stop until there is blood. I conjure a dagger and hold the metal against his chest. I know I can't kill him so easily, but I want to remind him that I have magic too.
He grabs the dagger out of my hand and hurls me up against the wall. "Don't forget who the master is."
"I am a student of this school. You can't hurt me. And I know the truth about you and your, proclivities. I don't think you want them to know the truth any more than I do. Great heroes have so much further to fall than the rest of us."
He seems disappointed. "It would have been so much easier if you had merely given yourself to me. I would have protected you if you were mine, but there is only one way to settle this now," he says taking the knife and cutting off a piece of fabric from his robe. "Neither of us wants the truth to be revealed."
He wants me to take an oath of secrecy, something I more than happy to do. Once the spell is done, neither one of us will be able to reveal the other person's secrets. I lay my palm against his, and he binds both of our hands together with the white cloth. After some mystic words of prompting my hand begins to burn.
Before the spell can take full effect, he leans in and whispers one last secret to me, "The ring you stole was filled with dark magic. It's only a matter of time before people see the truth and, when they do, no one will protect you. You'll be mine."
I'm not afraid of dark magic, but I won't be anyone's property ever again. My mission is clear, I am going to kill the Magistrate.