Halfwizard (Book 2 of the Troy Sanders Trilogy)

8: And Things Just Kept Getting Worse

I walked down the eerily quiet arched hallway. The Shroud, they had called it; a befitting name for it too, if you ask me.

I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there; I wasn’t even supposed to know of its existence. But there I was alone in the middle of the night, going to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what.

I placed my hands on the lichen-riddled wall and as expected, I could hear the screams of those behind it; the Lost- although I didn’t know why they were called that, which was perhaps for the best- that cried day and night since time immemorial.

Quickly, I let go of the wall before I too became immersed in their wail and walked down the hallway until I reached where I presumed my legs were taking me to all along; the Alcamax.

The Alcamax was actually a symbol consisting of a triskeleon surrounded by the elements in their order of power; Earth, Water, Air and Fire, all reinforced with the Spirit. It was one of the most ancient binding spells; so ancient in fact, that the technique had become lost to the world of today- although some believed that its overwhelming power had a more influential role in it being “lost’” than just the passage of time.

Whatever the hell I was supposed to be doing at the Alcamax, I really hoped it didn’t include opening it; and not just because the spell didn’t exist in any book I had ever seen. But even more than that, opening it would require a lot more magical force than my body could muster; I’d literally be killing myself.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans as I ran my hand over the alcamax and the long lost spell of its opening came coursing through my mind. I opened my mouth and the words rushed out in a language that was as old as time itself:

“Oh ancient door of times long past.

Release that which lies within thy treacherous power.”

And well... nothing happened, which I was way happy about, truth be told because it could only mean that the spell was- The entire wall exploded without warning before my very eyes; the force powerful enough to throw me many feet away from it and with a lot of violence too.

A purplish smoke emerged from the exploded section and although it wasn’t tangible, I could have sworn I heard it laugh. I couldn’t stop the wave of fear and nausea that washed over me. Oh my God! What have I done?

The smoke surrounded me and this time there was no doubt that it spoke. “Together, Troy Sanders,” it said, “we begin the end.”

Okay, I would be the first to admit that it was pretty crazy that I had inadvertently released an evilish purple smoke from a powerful "Very old as old itself" prison, and that it spoke to me, and that I was actually speaking back.

But it did and I was. “The end of what?” I asked.

”Everything,” it replied, and then it rushed straight at me.

I jerked up in bed and I knew I must have screamed all the dead awake; the echo still ringing in my ears attested to that fact. It was a good thing that Francesca had finally agreed to give Stan another room or I would no doubt be having a lot of explaining to do in that moment.

I looked around and as expected, I had already disorganized everything in the room with my new dream-reality power. Great work, Troy! You’re getting even worse every day.

I attempted to get out of bed- it was only right after that mental ordeal I just endured- but suddenly, I realized I couldn’t. My legs felt like the heaviest thing on earth; even using my hands to lift them was a tedious task.

God, I’m paralyzed! That was my first thought. But I could still feel my entire body and, unfortunately, the unforgiving pain within it. After many minutes of painful determination, I finally managed to drag myself closer to the bedside table, and poured myself a drink. I was about to drink it when I saw the drop of blood in it.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed, involuntarily dropping the cup. Before I could say Jack Robinson, two more drops landed on my bed and I put my hand to my nose to notice that it was bleeding.

I forced myself to control the lights on and I got the surprise of my life. Besides my nose bleeding, my hairs were turning grey at the roots, reddish bags under my eyes and I looked as if I just survived a fight with Mark Tyson or Mayweather or any of those other prolific boxers.

Thing is, there was only one thing I knew that could have caused all of those symptoms; a Soul strain.

Mr. Gavin’s office was somewhere no one in his right mind would want to be. But as everyone probably knew by now, I hardly fit into that category anyway.

First of all, Mr. Gavin was the school’s guidance counselor; and to make things not-so-nice for everyone, he was also the head of the disciplinary committee- not a very good office combination if you wanted people to trust you, Mr. G.

However, neither of those reasons were even why I had decided to go see him that morning.

As it turned out, Mr. Henry Gavin was my new guardian-my previous one turned out to be a complete whackjob, remember?- and to be honest, he’d been really nice to me. Now, I hadn’t gone to see him for a face-to-face before but after my frightening Soul strain experience the previous night, it only seemed appropriate that I did.

“How may I help you today, Troy?” the grey sweater-wearing, blonde giant of a man in his mid-thirties asked after perusing through some papers on his table. It was no secret to either of us that he didn’t know whether to be first and foremost the school counselor or my guardian at that moment. But that would change by the end of the conversation; I made sure of that.

“I need to confide something in you,” I said to him.

“Of course,” he replied as he sat up straighter and stepped into the “I’m a counselor” mode. “Anything.”

“Thing is, I’ve been having nightmares for some time now,” I began, “and they’ve gotten increasingly worse.”

“Worse, how?” He picked up a pad to write but I signaled no; it was a private matter which I didn’t want recorded and- thank God!- he understood.

“I’m starting to access my magic in my dreams,” I told him.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I mean, I perform magic when I’m having these nightmares, and it’s usually in the destructive sense.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment. Then, he stood up, went to the bookshelf and skimmed through some books before coming to take a seat again. “Tell me, have you been having any sort of that thing happen in your waking hours?” he asked. “You know, like you’re not in control of yourself.”

“Never,” I replied, but quickly added, “Look, Mr. Gavin, my nightmares aren’t what I need to confide in you but rather, their cause.”

Now, he became clearly confused; and he was right to be. I was even more confused about it myself. “What are you trying to say, Troy?” he asked.

I looked around as if looking for something to dissuade me- which a part of me was actually hoping for- and Mr. Gavin waited patiently for me to be ready.

Well, here goes nothing. “Mr. Gavin, there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from everyone,” I began, my heart thumping violently every step of the way. “I can perform both light and dark magic.”