Dark Slayer(111)

Somersaulting with her, talons linked, Razvan knew that everything he needed was here, in this one woman. She had saved him with her smile. With her inner beauty. Her soul. She had become his own personal miracle. He wasn't altogether certain the earth had healed him. She had. With the colors she had provided, bringing life to his world. With the joy she had restored, so that each moment meant something to him. She had replaced the shadows in his eyes, in his heart, with love. She had replaced the darkness in his soul with light.

He swallowed hard, his chin nuzzling her shoulder as he peered at the book she had open as she studied her books in her workroom. He could see she had written in the ancient text and he read the words to himself, frowning over them.

The mage walks forth as the Hell Gate closes Lightning strikes with his first order Energy spirals from his fingertips A spell does form upon his lips Tall and dark, handsomely slender His silver eyes burn like lighted embers A power, a presence one cannot explain A drawing feeling that will not leave the brain A longing, a yearning that burns like fire To be wanted and taken with heated desire The mage walks forth unfolding his arms His victim comes quietly, succumbed by his charms The embers of passion burst forth in flame As the mage draws heart's blood from deep within Consuming all, leaving no remains The victim languishes in untold pain The mage, having taken body and soul, Now turns from the broken to seek one who is whole The pattern is set, the ending the same The mage needs heart's blood to be whole and remain

Razvan's stomach lurched, and just like that his world spun away from him, collapsing into images of blood and screams and death. He dropped his arms and stepped back, turning away from her. "Why would you write such a vile thing? Why would you give him such honor as to set him down on paper and give him to history?"

Ivory turned at his low tone, caught his arm and stepped in front of him. His eyes were filled with horror. Nightmare memories. His were not the nightmares that evaporated because the mind played tricks, his were made of true memories that would last an eternity. She had inadvertently conjured up the images of his past.

"It is not to memorialize him. I have to hold his image when I work. The image I saw, so that I know him, so that I am never tricked as I work on his spells. He is evil. He will always be evil. He chose to be evil. And I have to keep my mind clear at all times. Razvan, I am sorry I hurt you with the image of him, but it is my protection."

He wrapped her braid around his fist but he remained silent, drawing in breath, matching the rhythm of his heart to hers.

"When I work with his spells, Razvan, it is dangerous. I cannot tell you how dangerous. You said you were not good with spells. Well, I am, but to be so, I have to form the words in my head, conjure up the images to go with them, and I cannot make any mistakes when I am working with his spells."

He took another deep breath, visibly fighting to get his control back. "I still do not understand."

She gestured around the room. "This is my fortress. Solid rock. He cannot come here. He cannot trace me through the solid rock, but if I make a mistake, if I forget for one moment who and what I am dealing with, then I make myself vulnerable."

He frowned. "Even here?"

"He is utterly evil. The first line says it all. 'The mage walks forth as the Hell Gate closes.' He is not entirely earthly. He has visited hell and returned, needing the blood of others to survive."

His frown deepened. "I lived with him for hundreds of years. He is evil, yes, but he is not a demon. He is mage."

She nodded. "Yes, he is mage. There is always a balance in the universe. Where there is good, there must also be evil. One can use the earth's natural elements to weave for good. It is done all the time for healing and other things our people need. One can also weave spells for evil, calling upon demons and bargaining with them."

"I know that he does that. I have seen foul creatures in his caverns, but I have never seen portals to another world or another realm that even a mage can walk through."

"No, I am certain he would not be foolish enough to allow anyone to know what happened. He wants to appear all-powerful to everyone-even to himself. He needs that illusion. As far as I can tell, as far back as when I attended his school, he was using apprentices to write spells and then he used those spells as the base for his own. He can no longer come up with new spells, I am certain of it. Each mage has a rhythm, a twist in how they cast and what they use, a signature, if you will. Xavier's spells cover a multitude of other mage's spells."

Razvan ran agitated hands over his face and then through his streaked hair. "What else have you learned by studying him?"