The Immaculate and his gay Wizard

Michael found himself in a dark maze. Again!! He could see the dim rays of the moon which was the only source of light. He walked forward and entered one of the room-like compartments of the grassy maze... Michael frowned realizing nothing was there. He came out and entered another compartment—the same thing! He began to run with his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage. He couldn't explain it; seeing himself in strange places at night seemed almost natural now since it happened very frequently. He heard a sharp sound like the crushing of dry twigs underneath someone's feet. Slowly—very slowly, he turned back and saw a shadow standing at the other end. The moon wasn't too bright but he could make out the black mask and hood the figure wore. It looked intimidating coupled with the figure's height. Michael turned and started running. He ran, turning around the maze only to find himself in the same spot he started form. The masked man laughed eerily. "You can't escape from me, boy." He charged forward but Michael was already running again. The boy ran into one of the maze' compartment and realized what a mistake he had made. The masked man now stood at the entrance, his figure a bulwark blocking out almost all the light. He was trapped. Michael realized this bitter truth as he felt an icy spike graze his left shoulder. The cold seeped into his skin in an agonizing sting. Michael groaned and materialized a flaming fire sword in his right hand. His strength was slowly ebbing away. It was only moments before he collapsed. His attacker wore the usual death mask. The man was always a cause of pain and agony. He always came welding ice swords or spikes and was very good with them. Michael rushed forward swinging his flame sword. He didn't even know how he always managed to materialize weapons, but right now he didn't care as long as it gave him protection. He aimed straight for his attacker's neck. The hooded man skillfully jumped back and simultaneously released a burst of ice toward Michael who deflected it and retaliated with shots of fire balls. The hooded man summoned an ice shield to block the attack but was a second too late. Before it could completely materialize, the fireballs burst through and hit him squarely on the chest. The impact flung him back where he collided with a wall. Michael seeing his victory and a source of redemption, rushed out of the enclosed space where he was trapped earlier. The man still laid on the floor, groaning, scattered wall debris all around him. He spat out blood from his mouth and wiped his lips on his sleeves. It is high time this ends, Michael thought as he made his way towards him. He carefully approached him, but stopped on his tracks when he heard a chuckle. It was the attacker. Slowly he raised his head and looked up. Michael gasped. The man's eyes were pure white and was glowing a strange shiny color. He was still laughing with that sadistic smile on his face. Slowly, he lifted his arms and pointed to Michael, his fingers shook, his smile sinister. "Your soul is mine, my precious. Don't fight it. It's mine, I'll harvest it for my uprising." He cackled, his voice was like numerous people speaking at once. It sounded inhuman. Michael instinctively stepped back as he felt the temperature of the area drop. The cold bit into his skin and his teeth began clattering. He opened his palm to release fire but nothing came. He could feel a force pushing back the flames inside of him. How was this man suppressing his powers? This should not be possible! His attacker had risen and was slowly moving his lips muttering some words the boy couldn't decipher. Michael began feeling the effect as his body became light. The hooded man continued moving his lips and slowly his feet levitated and he slowly ascended with that wicked chuckle still ringing. " Ha ha ha. Mine... Only mine", Then his expression grew serious as madness danced in his eyes. He released a large spike of ice aiming directly at Michael's heart. Michael screamed and closed his eyes tightly as he awaited his death. "Hey, wake up, wake up!!" Michael opened his eyes and found himself staring into familiar warm brown eyes. He could feel the soak in his sheets and pillow. "Ed... Eddie?." His friend must have been worried. "It was only a nightmare, Ed. I'm fine, don't worry. Did I scream?" Edward narrowed his eyes and eyed him. "Of course you screamed! I was scared my ears would stop functioning! Was it the same nightmare?" He got a nod in the affirmative. "Michael, listen. I have this feeling there is more to it than we know. I mean, these strange dreams with mr hooded guy is coming too often. Mr hooded guy keeps coming back with his ice and stuff, and you—" he gestured to Michael with his hands "—wielding fire swords and fighting him off. Come on, it's weird." Michael smiled as he assessed his friend's gaze. He saw fear—and concern. Edward was as good looking as ever with his blond hair tied in a ponytail, his captivating hazel brown eyes and the serious expression he always wore on his face. It was a wonder how he was from the Hilton's, a family renowned for their wealth, generosity and generational history. Making Edward a friend had been easy. Unlike most rich kids, he was quiet, shy and extremely open, a trait Michael always found amusing but sweet. Then they stuck to each other...