Torin #4
Our lands are dying; the sky is dark from the endless pyres, and the rivers have more cracks than the faces of elderly humans.
Yet the leaders of our lands, the kings and queens, look the other way.
Instead of putting laws and regulations around runes, they just create more, thinking that will fix the problem.
You can’t fix a problem with the problem.
So, I dedicated my life to finding a way to stop the madness. I know it sounds insane, but I am a child of this mad world. It’s the insanity I vow to stop.
I know that the gods are on my side; they are! We are their children, and the hardest plight a parent can endure is watching their child fail and die.
My first test was stealing the sword of Obryn, a demigod who preferred the pages of his books to his family’s legacy. That sword, handed down throughout his powerful family, was covered in dust, having never been touched by his hands.
For years, I acted as his loyal servant. It was so simple to take it as he slumbered.
Getting my hands on the Vitalis was much harder, but I managed to do it. Me!
Once I had the Vitalis in my possession, I became the most wanted person in the world.
I tried to destroy the book using Obryn’s sword, which was said to have ungodly powers.
But when I pressed the sharp blade into the cover, it did not yield.
Instead, it released a magical pulse that almost killed me.
That’s when I realized the book was not an object but a creature; its cover possessed some type of protection magic.
But what if I found its soft belly? What then?
I flipped open the book and glared at the pages, knowing they held power, but every creature had a weakness. In a fury, I struck the sword down onto the paper.
That worked!
A page was sliced free from the book, and as it fell to the floor, the rune on it vanished.
But then another blank page appeared in its place.
I cut the blank pages out, over and over again, but still it healed!
I knew even if I cut out all the pages that were marked, more blank ones would appear, ready and waiting for another’s hand to draw upon them.
That’s when the gods blessed me with a new idea. The Vitalis is a beast that can’t be killed, but… it can be caged. My first thought was to make a rune that would cage the book, sealing off its magic to those who have runes on their skin.
But if the magic were sealed off, then the cage made of a rune would stop working.
“Just a few… more…”
Ugh! Gods bless me.
“Steps!” I gasp as I stumble forward.
During my years of research, I discovered a truth the world tried to conceal from the fae. Fae magic differs from others. When a fae releases their dying breath, they can choose to give their magic to another or have it released back into our world.
But that’s not all.
They can place rules over their magic, just like mixing ingredients before putting them in an oven to bake.
That’s why the knowledge was hidden. It prevents one family line from inheriting multiple powers.
Since the Vitalis is a creature… I should be able to order my magic into it. But giving the book more magic isn’t what I intend to do. I want to turn my magic into a cage that is strong enough to trap the most dangerous book in our world.
What better cage than death? The magic I happen to possess.
I just need the perfect location, one long forgotten and cursed, to hide the book in, and then I will stab the inner pages with Obryn’s sword, cutting off the rune magic from the world.
With trembling hands and tired eyes, I set the Vitalis on the stone floor. Thump! The sheer magical weight of the book makes my toes curl and the ground tremble.
Drip, drip! My blood dribbles from my bleeding heart and onto the book. I felt little pain when I plunged the dagger into my heart. Only hope. For my death would release my magic and cast the world into light again.
Like a predator’s wings, I extend the cover of the book back, exposing the soft pages. The book releases a whimper. I press the exposed pages against the cold, unforgiving stone. With them pinned, I lift Obryn’s sword.
Touching the blade gives me a dangerous strength that makes my death feel farther away. I plunge the sword through the pages easily; to my amazement, the weapon buries itself into the stone floor as well.
For a moment, the book trembles like a cat’s tail under my boot. It releases another whimper.
Then… boom!
The ground quakes as the entire world feels a tremor.
The runes inked on the pages grow faint and sickly as the wound from the sword pins them down in a prolonged state of torture.
I watch as the runes attempt to heal themselves, but the sword prevents them from doing so fully.
For as long as this sword remains stabbing the pages, their magic will be cut off.
Letting go of the sword, I push up the sleeve of my tunic; the fabric is heavy from the weight of my blood.
There on my inner wrist is the rune I used to help me steal the book.
The thick lines slowly begin to fade until they are nothing more than an old scar, barely visible but certainly remembered.
“It worked!” I cry as my smile burns. I have cut off the magic of the runes from the world. “I did it. I saved us.” Tears fall from my eyes, mixing with my lifeblood.
Then it happens: the last string that holds my magic to my soul is cut.
The pain is so immense it rivals the fear of death itself.
A wave of light leaps from my body. The shades of colors are unnamed in this world, spectrums of such beauty, I think not even the greatest poet could pen a name to them.
“Beautiful,” I whisper in awe, my voice barely audible.
My magic swirls and roars as it seeks to be set free or attached again like a child unsure whether it should leave the nest or cling back to its mother’s arms.
“I order you to cage this book, here on this slab, so it can never be moved; should anyone touch you, you shall strike them dead. For none can rival death but itself,” I command.
My magic vibrates as it swirls, listening to me like a good, loyal pet. It surrounds the stone slab where the book is stabbed, forever stuck in a frozen state of life and death.
They will remember me as their hero!
Of course, some will call me a foe, but they will be erased from history. Sacrifices must be made.
Some will suffer more losses; for instance, the dragon riders will lose control of their winged beasts without the runes. Yes, that means the dragons will be hunted down and killed again, but what use do we have for those massive beasts?
Those riders sit so high and mighty on their scaly, overgrown lizards as if they were gods trying to make us see reason.
I never liked the dragons or their riders. They speak a strange language and don’t teach others how to understand it. They are hiding things; I sense it. They patrol the skies and dig up the earth, searching for the book, but it was I, a fae without a dragon, who found it. Me!
The riders deserve a downfall. Many need to be humbled. And so they shall.
My back hits the floor, and the last sight I see is my magic encasing the Vitalis. It’s like a flower. Its beauty tempts the thief, and when they lean in to take it, it releases its poison.
Now all the runes marked on their greedy flesh will be nothing more than faint scars. No magic flows through them.
Silence. Ah yes, that’s it, nothing. I just want all their greed to be silent.
Now it will be.