The Beginning Ch. 08-11

That was when he came out. Walking out through the doors of the inner sanctum (the area the royal family had retreated to, guarded by the very best of their soldiers) like he was taking a stroll through the royal gardens, Yami made it all the way to the frontlines of the battle before people even realized that he was there. And then, all hell broke loose. Using his unique brand of magic, he carved huge swaths into the rebel's forces, death and destruction following his every attack. Their shields and countermeasures were ineffective against whatever force he was drawing his magic from, and if things had gone on the same way, he would probably have been able to wipe out the rebellion singlehandedly. Luckily for them, that's when Pruthvish entered the fray.

Concentrating, he cast a shield over all of the rebels, a shield most expected to fail once Yami attacked again. In a pleasant turn of events, however, not only were the spells he cast effective against Yami's magic, they actually sapped it of energy, and fed it to Pruthvish instead! So, while he was expending a considerable deal of Power maintaining the shield, he was gaining a whole lot more with every attack Yami made.

Yami realized this, and that his troops would soon fall, and in a move born of pure desperation, revealed the final ace up his sleeve; he called the emperor out to fight. Many laughed at that, knowing the emperor to be nothing but a coward and a weakling. Some soldiers even went so far as to question Yami's sanity, but all of them were swiftly silenced as the emperor walked out. You see, he wasn't alone. He walked out beside the other Dragon, the second oldest and strongest entity in the Other Realm, the only one whose power could even hope to compare to that of Pruthvish's Companion.

Only, this Dragon's spirit had been corrupted by the darkness within the emperor's soul, a darkness which was reflected in the sheer blackness of its form.

The white Dragon, Pruthvish's Companion, roared his challenge at the black one, barreling into it and snapping at its neck. The black Dragon rolled him off, throwing him into a building on the side. Roaring again, the white Dragon managed to sink its claws into the black one's spine, and yank it into the air, taking their battle airborne. At the same time, Sage Pruthvish and the emperor clashed in an epic battle of magic and swords, the intensity of their fight reducing most of the buildings around them to rubble and pulverizing the very ground beneath their feet, while the air crackled with energy. All other fights came to a standstill, the soldiers and the rebels turning as one to watch, as the two most powerful men on Earth battled it out in a no-holds-barred brawl. As the battle wore on, however, it was obvious that Sage Pruthvish had the upper hand simply because of all his years of experience and training. In the end, he managed to strike a fatal blow, beheading the emperor with a single strike, the misled youth's head rolling all the way to Yami's feet. The death of the one he was Bonded to severed the black Dragon's connection to this realm, and he faded away, but not before vowing to return for his revenge, and to conquer this world.

Yami ordered his soldiers to continue fighting, breaking them out of the trance they'd fallen into as they watched their emperor die, and egged them on to make a final stand. It was a pitiful yet chaotic mess, the morale of the soldiers broken, the majority of them simply unwilling to continue fighting. Yet, in the confusion, Yami managed to make his escape, disappearing into thin air.

In the aftermath of the battle, the people asked Sage Pruthvish if he would lead them as the new emperor, but he turned them down, saying that being a ruler was not his destiny. So, the empire was broken down into smaller kingdoms, with the heroes of the rebellion being given dominion over each one. They vowed to remain just and kind and rule peacefully, a vow they would keep, because Sage Pruthvish himself would enforce it.

Shortly later, humankind in their eternal quest to label everything, decided to name their Companions. The agreement was that while each person may name their Companion as they saw fit, the strongest of them all would be given steady names that would never be changed, as a recognition of their power. So, the white Dragon was named Irontooth, while the black Dragon was named Darkclaw.

During Pruthvish's lifetime, peace reigned over our corner of the world, and trade flourished, opening us up to the existence of other kingdoms and other people all over the Earth. Pruthvish and Irontooth travelled extensively to these other countries, often helping them resolve their own internal conflicts, and even worked to settle all-out wars as the ambassadors of peace, hope, and a better future for all.

Over time, Darkclaw Bonded with three different humans, each time rising up to try and unleash a reign of evil over the world. But each time that happened, Pruthvish and Irontooth were there to stand in their way, thwarting plans and banishing Darkclaw over and over again.

All good things must come to an end, though, and even the forces of good can't be expected to win every single battle. There came the day when Darkclaw finally won. Along with the one he was Bonded to, he managed to kill Pruthvish, and send Irontooth back to the Other Realm. Evil ruled the world for close to a century before Irontooth found a soul worthy enough to Bond with again, and returned to battle Darkclaw.

As time passed on, a new fact came to light. While the number of humans in our dimension might grow with every generation, the number of Spirit Animals remained constant and unchanging. What this came to mean, is that there were now two classes of people within society— those who possessed the Bond and could use magic, and those who couldn't. As with any society, the more powerful ones— those who could use magic— formed the upper echelons, holding all the important and powerful posts within their social structure, while the others carried out all the other menial tasks. In other words, the Wielders formed the ruling class of society, while the non-Wielders formed the working classes.

The seesaw of power between the forces of Light and the forces of Dark continued for a few millennia, with the battles raging harder and longer every time, till Darkclaw decided that he'd had enough. The next time he was vanquished in our realm, he fought the pull of the Bond till Irontooth returned to the Other Dimension. It was there, when Irontooth was still weak from the severance of the Bond and the backlash associated with it, that Darkclaw struck the final blow.

He killed Irontooth in the Other Realm; an act so vile that it defied comprehension, because it meant that Irontooth was truly dead forever. An entity that was killed in the Other Realm will not reincarnate and cannot be brought back from the brink. They cease to exist.

For a crime as heinous as that, the entities of the Other Realm that still bore the Light within them banded together and imposed the harshest penalty known to them— they banished Darkclaw from the Other Realm forever, imprisoning him in the passage between worlds. A move that, in hindsight, was not all that smart. You see, from this position, Darkclaw was free to influence the world, entering and leaving it at will even without being Bonded, till he almost tore it asunder.

Right as the world was on the brink of being irreparably damaged, the forces of good— now known as Light Wielders— managed to subdue the forces of evil— now known as Dark Wielders— long enough to change the very nature of the Bond itself. It was an undertaking of cosmic proportions with implications on a cosmic scale too. Thousands of Wielders gathered at the Himalayas, near the point where Pruthvish and Irontooth formed the first Bond, and proceeded to place three Seals on the bridge between realms.

The first Seal cut Darkclaw off from this end of the bridge as well, so that he could never fully enter our world, nor form a full Bond with anybody ever again. The flip side of this move, however, was that no Companion could ever truly stay in our Realm again. They had to be anchored here with the help of a Totem— the rings all present-day Wielders wear— and couldn't stay longer than a few days, because the strain would wear them down to nothing. They have to return to the Other Realm to recharge.

The second Seal tied magic itself to three ancient languages: Sanskrit, Greek, and Latin, in their written and vocal forms. Using magic merely by thought or action became impossible, a measure these ancient Wielders saw necessary, in order to reduce the sheer strain the mindless use of magic was putting on our world.

The third Seal, and the hardest one of all to cast, tied the Bond to three young boys— a Roman, a Greek, and an Indian— such that only they or those of their bloodline could form the Bond or use magic. The Wielders of old hoped that doing so would reduce the number of Wielders in the world on a whole; and that because all of them would hail from the same family, none of them would really turn Dark.

The process of casting these Seals, and the massive amounts of energy required to do so, killed each and every single Wielder present, except for three of their strongest, who had been chosen to train the young boys and look after them. As such, they had not participated in the Sealing, and were spared.

And so it came to be, that only six Wielders were left in a world that once was full of magic.

In time, the world healed, and society went back to normal. Kingdoms rose and fell with no influence of other-worldly powers whatsoever, and after a few generations, people began forgetting about the Wielders altogether. Magic itself receded into legend and story, and soon, even those legends were forgotten. Everything seemed to be going according to plan for a few centuries, before a grave oversight was uncovered. Nobody had taken into account the virility such a concentration of magic would give the three boys, nor just how many children they could sire over a lifespan of a thousand years.

The number of Wielders increased every generation, and soon the boys' teachers realized that they could not hope to keep magic a secret any longer, simply because of the sheer number of people who had access to it once more. They needed a safe place where they could train and raise all the Wielders, which is why they decided to create three pocket dimensions that would be anchored to Earth. Within them, they would build three academies which would house and train their numerous new wards. These pocket dimensions were anchored in three countries— India, Greece, and Rome— and were each headed by one of the boys' teachers.

After a Wielder came of age, they were sent to the Academy which resonated with the language they could cast in, and that was where they stayed and trained, till they had full control of their powers. At that point, they were sent back to the outside world to live amongst the Mundanes (people who couldn't Wield).

As their numbers grew however, a lot of trainees began to marry and settle within the Academies themselves, choosing to stay back and build a society, rather than reintegrate themselves in the outside world.

"That, dear Chris," Mr. Ray said, as the images faded away, and we were surrounded by blackness again, "is how we grew to be what you see around you today.

"Though the names of the progenitors of all Wielders have been forgotten, those of their teachers have not— since those very same teachers run these Academies even today. They are the Rishi Vashistha who you've met, the Dean of the Indian Academy, the Sage Perseus, the Dean of the Greek Academy, and the Priest Michael, the Dean of the Roman Academy. Collectively, we refer to them as the Big Three.

"The reason we brought you here Chris, and the reason for all the strange things that have happened recently, is one and the same. You, Chris, are a Wielder."

Chapter 9- More Questions

25^th January, 2013

4:37 p.m.

Clearing Around the Great Tree

"What?!" I asked, bewildered, "I'm a Wielder? That's impossible!" The shock of this revelation was enough to shake me out of whatever trance Mr. Ray had put me in, breaking the connection between us. I opened my eyes and looked at him piercingly, demanding the answers I knew he had. It seemed like a few hours had passed since I'd closed my eyes, which was understandable, really, since I'd just relived centuries worth of memories and experiences.

"Is it?" Mr. Ray asked, blinking slowly as he roused himself from his state, "Why do you think that?"

"If everything you've told me is true," I replied, standing up and pacing around, "then the only way I could be a Wielder was if my parents were Wielders themselves. But they weren't! They were perfectly ordinary, normal people— Mundanes as you call them!"

"Are you really so sure of that?" Vaishnavi asked, smiling conspiratorially.

"What do you mean?" I asked, whirling to face her.

"Your father," Vaishnavi replied, "was my predecessor, the old Champion of the Indian Academy. Your mother, was our Head Healer. They were both Wielders, and legends in their own right."

"Impossible!" I exclaimed, sitting down, all the energy draining out of me as I struggled to wrap my head around the implications of what they were saying, "I think I'd know if my parents had the ability to use magic and summon gigantic beasts!"

"True," Mr. Ray replied with a sigh, "if they'd still had that ability."

"You're not making any sense," I said, stiffly.

"You now know that our ability to use magic, to Wield, comes from the Bond," Vaishnavi said.

"Yes." I replied.

"You also know," Swati pitched in, "that when that Bond is broken, a Wielder feels destroyed, because a part of their soul is ripped away."

"What we didn't tell you, however," Mr. Ray said, morosely, "is that most Wielders find that loss too much to bear. Rather than live with the pain, they choose to embrace death. Either in the heat of battle or by their own hands, each and every single Wielder who has ever lost their Companion has died shortly after their Bond was severed. All of them, that is, except for your parents."

"Go on," I murmured, looking at him, the pain of their loss riling the rage up within me again, clamoring that I mete out justice.

"Your father," Mr. Ray said, with a faraway look in his eyes, "was one of my oldest friends. We grew up together, in fact, and he was like the brother I never had. We first met in the play area, and I still remember how our fathers told us to stay away from each other. They weren't exactly friendly. Family feud of some kind, I don't really remember.

"We, however, had different plans. Their efforts to keep us apart only brought us together, and by the time we started school, we were already the best of friends. As time went on, we started doing everything together— studying, training, eating, everything. Eventually, we started sleeping over at each other's places, which inadvertently forced our parents to put aside their differences and make up, for our sakes.

"Soon, whatever had occurred to drive a wedge between our families was long forgotten, and we began to celebrate everything together. Things were great, till a call to arms was raised. Your grandmother and my father were Squad Leaders in the Academy's army, your grandfather was a strategist, and my mother was a Healer.

"In that war, the combined forces of all the Academies tried to kill Dracul— you might know him as Count Dracula from countless books and legends— who was the leader of the Dark Wielders back then, the one Darkclaw had chosen to influence and corrupt."

"Hold on," I said, "didn't you tell me that Darkclaw had been trapped between realms with the Seals?"

"In a way," Swati replied, "yes. You see, while he could no longer enter this dimension physically, nor manifest in a Spirit form, he somehow managed to find a loophole that would allow him to partially Bond with a Wielder. A full Bond was impossible due to the Seal, but he could latch himself on to a Bond that was about to snap, and claim the Wielder on the other end of that Bond for himself."

"In other words," Vaishnavi said, "when a Wielder's Companion is about to 'die' and the Bond is about to break, Darkclaw can twist the Bond to shift the Wielder's connection to himself, instead."

"Wow," I whispered, "that's messed up."

"Indeed," Mr. Ray replied.

"And Count Dracula?" I asked, "Really? The first vampire? Goes around sucking blood?"

"All true," Swati said with a laugh, "Except that he wasn't really a vampire. He just discovered that drinking a Wielder's blood could bolster one's own stores of magic permanently."

"A Blood Drain is what we call it," Vaishnavi said, shuddering, "One of the very few things that could get you ostracized from our society."

"So, vampires are just a legend?" I asked, intrigued to find out if something other than magic was real too.

"Not exactly," Vaishnavi answered, "The stories of people going around and drinking blood are all too real. Once Dracul made his discovery, he told all his followers to consume the blood of any Wielder they met, and for a few decades after that, the Dark Wielders— we call them 'Darks' for short— carried out an extensive manhunt where they tracked down any Wielder foolish enough to venture into the outside world, and killed them so that they could drain them of their blood. After a point of time the Darks grew ridiculously strong, and most of the Light Wielders—"

"'Lights' for short," I said, with a smile.

"— 'Lights' for short," she continued, smiling back at me, "retreated back into the Academies, preferring to hide out here. They probably would have done so forever, if the Darks hadn't made an astonishing discovery: the blood of a Mundane would give them a boost of power too!"

"But how?" I asked, interrupting her, "I thought that Mundanes don't have any magic. Isn't that why they're called 'Mundanes'?"

"Yes," Mr. Ray said, "but while they may not be able to consciously use magic, they do contain the potential to do so. It was this potential that the Darks discovered, which could be used to bolster their arcane strength. It might not be as potent as a fellow Wielder's, but in a world where all the Lights had retreated, it was the only option they had left."

"The deaths numbered in the tens of thousands," Swati said with a shudder, "and the land was filled with the bodies of the dead. Men, women, even children; none were spared. There was, however, no rational explanation for what was happening. Nobody really wanted to admit that there was something else out there, something that wasn't quite human. Humans don't really like to feel powerless, you see?"

"So how did they explain it, then?" I asked, "I'm sure that if people were dying in such great numbers, someone would have noticed and chronicled it!"

"They did," she said with a sad smile, "They attributed it to an incurable disease, one that required people to burn the bodies, so that nobody would notice that they had, in fact, been drained of all their blood. Court historians were all commanded to make up symptoms and stories about why the people were dying, and in time, these stories began to tell a common tale. People today refer to it as the 'Black Death'."

"Huh," I grunted, my mind finding it rather difficult to come to terms with that particular tidbit.

"It was then," Vaishnavi continued, "that the Lights decided that they'd had enough. They decided to rally all their might and put an end to the Darks once and for all. After all, they did outnumber the Darks twenty-to-one, and while they might not have stood a chance alone, they definitely had a chance together!"