Wizards

CHAPTER 2: Embrace Destiny

It was dark and what Rei could only hear were droplets coming from every direction as though it was echoing inside her head. She breathes slowly, vaguely recalling exactly what happened.

     Mrs. Scott . . . Norris Mansion . . . weird painting on the ceiling . . . and a guy named Eliot.

     That was right. . . . She thought. There was a man named Eliot.

     "Hello?" she said.

     Her voice echoed as though she was inside an empty chamber. She wanted to walk but felt no ground. And now that she thought about it, she doesn't feel her existence at all. It was as though she's just a floating thought in an empty void. Yet she hears droplets and now . . . voices. She counted two. A man and a woman. . . .

     "Is that even possible?" said the man — he sounded like a coward.

     To which a woman answered nonchalantly, "One might wonder," she said. "T'was a direct hit. . . . She should've died."

     "Well, she didn't. What's that supposed to mean?" the man answered, half exclaimed. "It has been a week, Dr. Ortega. Her stats should've been dropping four days ago."

     "I am well aware, Dr. Ilagan. I lead this observation. . . . She is just a mystery left unsolved, that's all."

     Slowly, the voices were starting to sound muffled.

     "Everything's going up! Page Dr. James! Don't worry, child . . . we'll do everything. Stay with us. . . ."

     Rei yelled, "Hello?"

     Nobody answered. . . . And the voices started to fade away.

     "What's going on?"

     Rei turned in every direction trying to find the voices. But the voices were coming from all directions, echoing violently, but fading gradually. Even her voice was starting to fade.

     "Where am I? Help me!" she cried. Her voice, now close to none, "Help me!" she screamed.

     Everything was silent. . . .

At one hundred sixtieth floor of the Guild Tower, the wooden door of the Death Squad Room slammed open and a DS — a term everyone uses to identify a Death Squad member — called Jovial came rushing in.

     The room belongs to the five masters of the dark arts in Terravir. They were called the Death Squad for particular reasons; one of such was that anyone who came across a DS often never sees the light of day. They were trained to battle to the last breath and to not take any prisoners unless necessary.

     Everyone in the room turned to face him; the youngest man (and the loudest) in their group. Jovial — tall, dark hair, thick eyebrows, blue eyes, and strong jawline — was wearing his almost-everyday orange hoodie, camouflage baggy shorts, and orange rubber shoes.

     Jovial scanned the room. He was looking for someone in particular, but only found a blonde woman with eyes as blue as his named Morrigan who was sitting on the black circular couch that was placed in the middle of the room.

     She couldn't remember the last time someone mentioned her real name. It was long gone as far as everyone's concerned. The moment she became a part of the Death Squad at the age of eighteen was the birth of her new life and her new name — Morrigan. She was sitting on the couch, one foot resting up on the table. She was wearing a gray tank top and black tactical pants, and she was cleaning her fingernails with a combat knife.

     On the far side of the room stood the bookshelves and another set of couches for a comfort read. This has been the favorite place of Terravir's Silver Hero, to the Death Squads he was just Niflheim. He spent most of his time stuck in a book while walking around the library, not caring much of the havoc inside the Death Squad Room.

     Crimson and Grave: two of the Death Squads who always spent their precious time drinking their hearts out at the left side of the room — the bar side — threw a can of beer to Jovial.

     "The director just arrived from his special trip," said Jovial, "He's furious!"

     Behind the door of the locker room on the right side of the Death Squad Room, a Caster called Eliot Reeve was scrolling through his phone. He opened the door and walked out. He normally wouldn't stop until he reached the black couch. But there has an odd feeling that as though someone was staring at him. He wasn't thinking anything bad — he tried to, but he couldn't recall anything he did wrong . . . maybe he had dirt on his face. But Grave and Crimson would have been making jokes about it by now.

     Eliot raised his head. Everyone's eyes were on him.

     "If this is one of your pranks to annoy me, it's not working. I've already seen this one."

     Eliot kept his head down from the vexing glares till he reached the black couch; he was rather too focused on the article he was reading from the Daily Eyes that was written by Lovella Lincopines.

—

NORRIS MANSION TORN IN HALF!

The villagers of the Pleasant Village in the Magicless World were shocked to see the destruction of the Norris Mansion, Tuesday morning of the second of June.

Lillian, one of the villagers, said that nobody heard or saw anything the night the tragic incident happened, "One night the Norris Mansion was still there and the next morning it was torn in half," she said.

The Orlando Police Department is still investigating the cause of the destruction. Meanwhile, the Magicless Intelligence Agency (MIA) assured the wizarding community that the secrecy of the wizarding world is still protected. The Magicless Intelligence Agency will be sending personnel to investigate the tragic death of the Norris family in the Magicless World.

—

     Right after finishing the article, Eliot felt an arm wrapped around his neck. He looked at the owner of the arm who was wearing a bright orange hoodie and was three inches away from his face.

     Jovial spoke, "Dude," he said, "Your mission was a trial for SPEAR membership, and you messed it up."

     "What are you talking about?" Eliot inched away.

     "Your assignment on Pleasant Village was a field test, dumbass. And you were a candidate for SPEAR title — that is if you succeeded. But you messed up. Now the director is mad, and we're about to take that later. He's annoying when he's angry," said Grave; big guy, thick beard, and a loud voice. Eliot always felt pity to anyone who dares to challenge Grave into a fistfight — they're automatically one step away from Death. Thankfully he's not the challenger.

     "Careful now, Grave, you wouldn't want the director to hear you saying that," Crimson brushed his red hair off of his face.

     "Yow, guys!" Eliot raised both his hands. "I didn't know it was a field test. And I don't want the SPEAR title. To hell with that title."

     "It's a privilege — not a title, Eliot. Don't be stupid," Morrigan said, the only woman in the squad, also the craziest. There were many rumors about Morrigan that were spreading like wildfire in the HQ. Rumors like: brutally crushing a criminal's face with her fist, breaking a criminal's hands to get answers, and the latest rumor was that she bit her enemy's ear off.

     "Chill, Mori. Don't bite his ear off," Crimson teased, to which Jovial bursts into laughter.

     "I did not bite anyone's ear off! Where did that rumor come from?" she hissed — Jovial was still laughing.

     "I just want to be one of you," Eliot uttered.

    Something slithered to the tensed environment that made Jovial stopped laughing and everyone shut quiet.

     Niflheim has been leaning quietly on the wall, arms folded, was listening to everyone. He closed his book and took his long black leather jacket and puts it on his back.

     "Walk with me, Eliot," he said, walking past everyone in the room. It was always so curious for Eliot, if not astounding, that cold breeze follows the traces of Niflheim every time and anywhere he passed by. It was as if even the air was swooned by his presence.

     Eliot stood up from the couch and followed his mid-long silver-haired mentor out in the corridor to the glass-walled interconnecting passageway to the other side of the spiral-shaped building. "What's wrong, Niflheim?" he asked.

     "Nothing," Niflheim replied, "Just the image of Morrigan biting your ear off is just . . . gruesome."

     They reached the other side of the building and went straight to the café full of Casters in blue uniform.

     "Sir Niflheim," a Caster saluted.

     Niflheim acknowledged him with a smile, but he didn't stop walking. He went straight to his favorite spot: the coffee vending machine. He grabbed an extra-large standard paper cup and placed it in before inserting a bronze coin into the vendo to pour coffee in.

     Eliot stood there and watched while Niflheim remained quietly waiting at the vendo while it pours his coffee which was ticking Eliot off because the barista could've whipped his wand and make coffee in a matter of seconds — and it'll be a hundred times better than a cheap coffee in a paper cup — yet Niflheim was settling with a coffee from the vendor.

     They walked out as soon as Niflheim got his drink. There were several Casters along the way stopping to salute at the silver-haired Death Squad.

     "Aren't they annoying? Stopping in front of us just to salute and then walk past us?"

     "You could learn a thing or two from them, Eliot. Like saluting to high ranking officers such as me and the rest of the DS, and not lecturing them about what coffee they should or should not drink."

     "Kiss my a*s, Nif," Eliot laughed.

     "I would, but I fear that'll ruin the taste of my coffee."

     They reached the corridor upstairs after checking the security system on the thirty-sixth floor. And while walking through the corridor, Eliot began breaking the deafening silence.

     "I just want to be one of you," he said.

     "Jovial calls us 'handsome', are you not one of that?" Niflheim replied.

     "What — I mean I want to become one of the Death Squad."

     "And to be one, you need to be a warlock, a master of the dark arts . . . a master killer," said Niflheim rather calmly. "You're not a warlock, Eliot," he continued, "Don't aspire to be one."

     They have been quiet for seconds before Niflheim spoke again.

     "Eliot, if the director chose you: accept it. Let the pages unfold themselves. It just means that it is your destiny," he said, hand behind his back, the other one was holding coffee.

     "What?"

     "When I was still a new recruit, I didn't know what my purpose was. The director saved my life just as I saved yours. And then—"

     "And then you were trained to become the best wizard in Magicana, I know the story, everyone knows the story, Niflheim. But what's your point?"

     "My point is . . . there will be moments in your life when opportunities will be given to you and you have no choice but to embrace it. Most of the time, that's when you find your purpose."

     "Oh, and you found yours?"

     "My purpose is to protect humanity at all cost."

     "But why did he choose me?" Eliot hissed, "Why not choose from the Death Squad? After all, the five of you are the strongest wizards in Terravir."

     Niflheim paused for a moment, letting the warm liquid travel from his tongue down to his throat. And then he spoke. "There are far greater things than strength alone."

     Maybe he was right? Maybe being a SPEAR agent was for him —

     "Here's my stop," said Niflheim, standing in front of the elevator. Eliot wasn't able to finish his thoughts as Niflheim shoved him in and waved.

     "I'll see you at the training grounds," Niflheim continued as he vanished from the corridor.

     Eliot groaned. Meeting the angry director alone? What a terrible fate. The elevator reached the highest part of the building and out he went.

     Eliot tilts down his black cap to not get blinded by the lights and went straight to the director's office just by the end of the hallway. One of the things he hated the most going to the office of the director was the overly lit up hallway, you can almost see the bones of anyone you come across in these halls.

     He was just about to knock when the door slid opened itself for him.

     Inside the office, the director was sitting on his chair and typing something on his laptop. He looked serious again. Well, he always looked serious and scary. Maybe it comes with the job description? Maybe he needed to look scary so his subordinates will follow his orders?

     Eliot sat on the couch that was perfectly aligned with the director's table. It was a comfortable chair; clearly, it was expensive. Now that he thought about it, even though Eliot did not care much for the interior design of any room, the awkward silence made him look around.

     It was still fancy as before. It still wasn't his type.

     There were huge plants placed on every corner — that's new. There were new books on the bookshelves that hang behind the director's desk. There were hanging chandeliers — were they new? Eliot thought it was the first time he saw those chandeliers. The floor was covered with black carpet — this he likes. Almost all the furniture was made out of the most expensive woods in the market.

     "Caster Eliot Reeve," said the director, eyeing his monitor.

     "Sir?"

     "What the hell happened?"

     Eliot sat straight and started telling the director the details of his mission on Pleasant Village from beginning to end. And the director's frown did not falter.

      "So you mean to tell me that you failed to capture any of the targets, failed to acquire any useful information, and you brought a Magicless in Terravir?"

     "But. . . ."

     "But? Do you understand the repercussion of this?" Director Lim's finger stabbed the wooden desk, "Councilor Umbaña gave us one job — and it was a simple task! We could lose funding! Plus, the leovirs are still trying to find ways to completely eradicate humanity's sit in the Circle and to make the use of wands and magic illegal in Magicana! They could use this as an excuse! They could use the troubles caused by the Brotherhood as an excuse, evidence even, to say that wizards are a danger to Magicana. And now, you brought a Magicless in Magicana. That is a threat to the secrecy of this world!"

     "Sir, I don't think she's a Magicless," Eliot said.

     A moment of silence wrapped the room until Eliot decided to break the silence, "She was struck by a curse and was supposed to be dead — but she wasn't. I hexed her with a memory charm, but there was no effect."

     "How is that possible?"

     "I don't know, sir. After she lost consciousness, I tried to chase the attackers but I couldn't leave her in the forest. And when I tried to carry her, I got thrown by some kind of energy that came from her. . . ."

     Somebody knocked which interrupted Eliot. A woman in a lab coat entered.

     "Doctor Ortega," Director Lim.

     "Director, I think you should see our Magicless," the doctor said.

     A moment wasn't wasted; Eliot and Director Lim went to the lab where Rei was unconsciously lying on a white-covered bed.

     "Extraordinary!" said the director while staring at the monitors in the observation room.

     "We've done some tests," said Dr. Ortega. "This is the first time I've seen such an incredible amount of mana."

     "And it is leaking, yes?" said the director.

     "I'm afraid so."

     The director grabbed his wand and flicked it in the air. A ball of light appeared in front of him.

     "Karen," he called.

     "Yes, Director Lim?"

     "Call the dean of Nesting Peak, set an appointment and tell him . . . I have a gift."

     "Yes, Director — right away, Director."

     "Eliot, I have an assignment for you. This time, don't fail."

     The director directed his attention back to Rei, and then a grin formed on his face.