Soul of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 1)

THREE

The war against the wizards was first waged by Nicolas the Vanquisher, King of the great Kingdom of Cyrian, about seventeen years ago; although his title then was Nicolas the Mighty and he was just the Crown Prince at the time. He had received the message to destroy the wizards directly from the Creator; at least that was what the history books that Kyra read had said. And seeing that the books were probably written by order of the king himself, it was no wonder really that they stated that.

Kyra had tried to get a different version of what had really caused the conflict between the king and the wizards from the people around but they all seemed to agree with what was written in the history books; even the High Priest of the Creator’s Temple in the town where she grew up. She could still see the disdain in his eyes as he uttered the word Wizards.

"They are creatures of the Darkness made to look like humans," he had said. "Sent into the world to undermine the works of the Creator. But the mighty Nicolas, the weapon of the Creator himself, will be the destroyer of them all. It is his destiny and our duty to help him with it."

So, it went without saying that Kyra was very far from elated when she discovered that she herself was a part of the creatures of the Darkness. She was ten years old at the time, and pretty scared too. The power came and went as it pleased, usually becoming active whenever she was gripped by a strong emotion; be it pleasant or hurtful.

Fortunately, it only messed with little things like moving objects or opening and shutting the doors, which everyone attributed to nature at work. But the power became stronger and more unpredictable as she grew, tampering with things that weren't so hard to cover-up. It was a matter before she got exposed and she knew it; and feared it greatly too.

From the books that she had read trying to understand magic, Kyra understood that one or both of her parents had to have being a wizard for her to inherit the power. But try as she could to see the symptoms in any of her uncle, or even her aunt-in-law for what it was worth, there was none. And that led her to a conclusion; the curse was hers to bear alone. She was going to live with it, and most presumably, die with it also.

As she sat down on the bare ground with her back against a rock, shivering in the cold late-night air, she couldn't help but be angry at her parents for being who they were; and then, she felt guilty for being angry at her parents for being who they were. They were strangers to her, people she couldn’t even visualize no matter how much she tried. And from what she had been taught from a very young age, being angry at strangers was just a bad behavior, on that wasn’t befitting a lady. But even more importantly, death was knocking on her door and she had no choice but to open it as the rest of her kind always did. Meeting her parents in the afterlife with an angry heart wasn’t what she wanted their first encounter to be like.

Kyra had been so lost in thought that it took her totally by surprise when a horse suddenly jumped right in front of her and she jumped away with a start. It was the rich man whom she had magically flung to the ground before the townspeople.

"You witch!" he snarled so wickedly at Kyra that she backed away. She tried to run the other way but came up against Dragur; and he was nowhere near happy to see her either.

"Look," she said, desperately thinking of a way to get herself out of the mess she was in. "How about I say I'm sorry and we all call this a simple misunderstanding?"

"You wish, don't you?" returned the man with a snicker. "Listen to me you monster, you’re going where the rest of your kind belongs, hell!"

Kyra screamed as Dragur suddenly swung his axe at her head, missing her only by a few inches. She hoped her very untrustworthy power would show up but it didn’t so she took to the bushes, running even with her pursuers very close behind her. She wanted to scream for help but thought better of it when she realised that whoever showed up would likely be more interested in join them to hunt her down than helping her get away.

Just as she turned the corner, she ran right into Dragur who had been waiting for her. She tried to backtrack but he grabbed and put a piece of cloth over her mouth, the movement so unexpected that she gasped and took in a lungful of the strange substance on the cloth. She jabbed him in stomach, releasing herself from his grip and she ran. But no sooner had she done so that she went tumbling to the ground, feeling woozy all of a sudden.

"You bastard!" she groaned from the ground, realizing then what he'd done to her. "You drugged me."

Dragur said nothing to her as he watched her futilely struggling to get back on her feet, his eyes cold like a predator’s. She was still struggling when the rich man rode into the place, laughing as he saw her. He directed one kick at her side and she finally went down for good.

"Rest now, little witch," he said, caressing her cheek as she fell into oblivion. "Tomorrow, you and I have a meeting with destiny."