SquareSoft: Generations Prologue 3
By Dawn Wilkins
Come into the darkness, my dear child. Let me embrace you. You are blessed in the darkness. It is your throne. Come into the darkness.
Snap out of it Magus! the mystic screamed to himself. Jarring pain sliced through his leg rendering him immobile. The words were chanting incessantly demanding he comply. Delving into an energy source he never knew he had Magus managed to drive it away.
His blurred vision revealed a large, man-sized frog leap into the air, a sword held high. Glen! Oh, that stupid frog, irritatingly thought the mystic. He'll get himself killed. Ah, well, that wasn't Magus concern. They were allies, after all, not friends.
With a toss of his deep azure hair, he saw Marle lying on the ground (whatever that was, Magus noted) a frozen statue, devoid of life. Colors of the rainbow spectrum swirled in an awesome display. Another stab of pain nearly made him scream. Clenching his teeth determinedly, the zeal prince forced himself not to. He would not give the beast the pleasure of his pain. Lavos would die, Magus screamed in his mind. And Schala would be avenged.
A inarticulate screech tore through Magus' senses making him cringe. His head snapped up. Glen sailed through the air, his blade, Masemune, no where to be found. He slammed into the nothingness beneath their feet. Glen was dead.
Magus felt a twinge of sorrow sweep him. Poor Glen. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. Now Magus was alone.
Alone? Well, solitude and Magus were no strangers so he felt no real loss. Kissing his medallion, a platinum pendant with an engraved dragon, he thought, no, not entirely alone. There was always Schala.
Hate stormed him. Lavos had taken her away from him, stealing his one source of happiness. The hate swelled to pit of black fury. Lavos would pay.
Turning to the face the creature, the mystic found the strength to stand. A beast, almost indefinable, taunted him with his products, (again indefinable creatures) two small beasts, swaying menacing. He focused his rage summoning the ethereal energy within him. An unholy blackness swarmed the air. Magus spat out the words to the spell and gestured to the beast with his index finger. The nocturnal light illuminated and two triangles of magic swirled.
An unendurable shot of pain slashed him. Something's gone wrong, he thought in raw terror.
Yes, prince of darkness, summon your hate. Bend it to my will. You will serve as you are commanded and the throne shall be yours.
"I am Janus, prince of zeal. I am Magus, leader of the mystics. But I am not your servant. I am my own master," Magus howled with all his might.
The pain intensified. The world drowned black. He could feel consciousness slip through his fingers.
A scream sliced the air. It was a thing born of terror and hell. It seemed to have neither form nor shape. Who's screaming? pondered Magus.
And then only silence.