All things considered, Hex's task was going well.
Hovering across the ground, Staff of Ages in hand and bare feet grazing the errant blades of grass, Hex drifted forward. As he passed, the grass was cut, invisible shears sweeping out and scything through the brush, leaving a leveled trail in his wake. "Mow the lawn", Father had ordered. Hex appreciated the metaphor, but there was some satisfaction in doing it literally. Of course, this was no mere chore.
Hex levitated up five stories and admired his handiwork. He'd trimmed the grass in intricate weaving patterns until they formed a circle around the pavilion at the center of the public park. The Seal of Diagon. A powerful binding circuit that could contain any infernal magic. Even a dark god… if only briefly.
Perhaps a trifle overkill, but better safe than sorry.
Having been issued the task early in the morning, Hex had taken the opportunity to do something he didn't often have the privilege to do: Plan. Hex had called upon Father's meager menagerie of servants, at least those who hadn't been brainwashed into acting like children, and had them gather every scrap of evidence they could find for the bizarre happenings reported in the neighborhood. He'd even managed to get the cooperation of the local authorities. Perhaps they'd mistaken him for some sort of 'Super Hero'. They certainly thought as much of Hex's employer, however much he might reject it.
Hex was not a superhero. He was a scholar of royal blood, and unlike the Tennyson child. That meant he could go about his business without bulldozing a building. There was something of an elegance to the subtler magic arts of household rituals.
A wealth of physical evidence lent itself to a scrying pattern. He'd heaped the creatures' leavings atop a pyre of sage and ensorcelled wood, then set it alight. After that, he'd only needed to follow the trail of winding smoke from one destination to the next.
Hex had spent the majority of the day resolving trifling supernatural incursions. A fraternity of unicorns to trap here. A slighted gnome to appease there. Matters he could have entrusted to the most incompetent apprentice, and yet, the gratitude that Hex received from the relieved suburbanites had made the humble task feel less beneath him than it should.
He met a more demanding task in short order. A policeman had come sprinting up to him, begging for his urgent aid. Apparently some sort of wizard had taken half a cul-de-sac hostage and was now forcing its captive audience to watch enraptured as it put on… a magic act?
Was that all? Hex was nearly amused at the notion that such a thing would be deemed urgent. He'd spotted the crowd easily enough, gathered around a bandstand in the middle of a city park. There was the magician performing a parlor trick with a pair of metal hoops. The crowd cheered with delight. For a moment, Hex even began to wonder if perhaps his spell had given him some sort of false positive, or if this man's essence simply had crossed the figurative magical wires; confused stage "magic" for projection of mana. He dared not consider that such a simple charade hid actual magical ability.
As he drifted through the seats, his amusement stopped dead in its tracks.
No one in the crowd was moving, the only sign that they were still alive being the unsteady pace of slow, heavy breathing. Wide eyes drooped, many of them bloodshot, as though they'd neglected to blink for a very long time. Popcorn and drinks littered the ground, too heavy to hold in weary hands. A trance that prevented them from leaving until the show expired, or they did.
He saw the magician. An unassuming, goateed man in a stereotypical tuxedo and top hat.
Hex thought this was a waste of time. Then, he smelled it.
The overwhelming odor of magic and death intertwined.
A bizarre case indeed, and all the more evidence for what Hex had been feeling more and more as of late. Magic flowed from the realm of Legerdomain. Should Legerdomain enter a state of flux, the mystical consequences would spread outward. All of these supernatural nuisances were no doubt just one of many symptoms of a greater malady. He'd need to proceed with care; hence the binding seal.
However violent his confrontation with this revenant would become, Hex would not let it spill the confines of the park.
Almost oblivious to his approach, the performer continued its act, basking in the silence even as Hex drifted forward midair. It was only when Hex came close to the front row did it turn to face him. The Magician smiled. It was midway through pulling a rabbit from a hat, mimicking the same gesture as depicted in a stage poster plastered on the wall.
'Al Lusion,' it read, 'Master magician and death defying escapist.' Hex could barely read it, as old and stained as it was. Calling forth upon his power, Hex waved his hand in a sweeping arcane gesture to banish the illusion of life.
The magician vanished, and in its place, a ruined, walking corpse appeared. The magician in the poster was a much younger man. Age, and rot, had taken its toll. Beady red eyes glared out from sunken sockets, flickering to enraged comprehension as it registered that its glamor had dropped. Hex could see pallid, blue-green skin through holes in its ragged suit, rips spaced at even intervals. Puncture marks from an instrument of torture; a final performance gone horribly awry. The rabbit clutched in the zombie's hands became a ragged lump of roadkill. Even its black and white stage wand lost its glossy sheen to the march of time.
The poster changed. Gone was the Amazing Al Lusion. In its place, the Terrible Abracadaver.
Abracadaver's jaw creaked open. It pointed, rigor mortis curling its gloved hand into a claw.
"You've…ruiiined my… makehhhup." It creaked. "Do.. hhhhyyoooo fancy hhhyourself a magician, boy?"
"More than you ever were in life."
This was a pathetic creature, propelled by forces it didn't understand, holding an audience captive to sate its own twisted desires. He raised his staff, preparing to destroy it.
To Abracadaver, Hex was-
"Com..peh…tiiittion…"
The rasping voice blew out of the clenched teeth of Abracadaver, like wind blowing through the ruins of a blown out theater. Hex took a moment, trying to understand what it meant, what it was saying. That was an error, as it ceded to Abracadaver the first move of their magical duel.
The corpse flipped its hands forward, coils of rainbow handkerchiefs flying out of its sleeves. They were soiled, moth-eaten rags, but they slammed down upon Hex with unnatural force and the snap of a bullwhip. Raising his staff, Hex caught the blow, muttering a chant of protection as the enchanted fabrics made impact.
"I call upon Thrax's Unyielding Orb."
A bubble of abjuring magic forced around Hex. Even with the orb diffusing much of the force around itself, Hex buckled under the force. The cloth ropes coiled about and tried to constrain him, to little effect. With a thought, Hex expanded his protective shield outwards, shredding the bindings apart.
It was a useful spell, for both defense, and offense. Right now, offense was what was called for. Hex stepped backwards out of the bubble, and then lanced it with his staff like a cue striking a snooker ball. The sphere barreled towards the corpse-mage, engulfing Abracadaver inside of it. The monster scurried on his bony legs to stay upright as the oversized hamster ball rolled off of the stage and through the railing of the gazebo.
"Your glory days are behind you, corpse." Hex warned. "Return to your eternal rest and release your captive audience. You no longer have business meddling in mortal affairs."
Hex dispersed the bubble, causing Abracadaver to slump to the ground in a heap. The flimsy corpse had been shaken to pieces by its bumpy trip across the lawn. Hex watched as pieces of the zombie vanished in a puff of smoke. Impossible stage lights burst into life as a coffin-shaped box rose from the ground. Hex didn't wait to see what was inside.
"The Blade of A'she'natari!"
Casting his will forward, a blade materialized mid-air near his palm, before launching itself directly through the box. It struck with a heavy thud as its sword speared cleanly through until its hilt met the wood. Hex summoned a dozen more, spearing the coffin over and over until it resembled a pincushion.
The box swung open regardless, and out stepped the zombie, completely unharmed. It paused to give a crooked bow.
The foul mana emanating from Abracadaver flared. It was preparing another spell.
Hex capitalized on the being's showmanship. Before it drew itself up again to launch its next attack, Hex drove his magehand into the earth and thrust upwards to raise a berm of dirt, wide enough to shield himself and the audience behind him. The barrier was soon put to good use. The coffin-box spun in place, dislodging all of the swords stuck through it in a showering of blades. He watched, annoyed, as the blades pelted harmlessly against the wall.
"You were a showman once. Do you not care for the well-being of your public?"
"They…. laughed… at mhheee…"
Hex had little time to react, as a hand burst through the earthen wall, grasping the hem of his cloak with a rigid death-grip. The undead magician's head followed, leering out at Hex with its rotten teeth bared in a snarl. Stepping back, Hex spun his staff, before planting into the earth. Vines and roots sprung out from the trees and grass, lurching out at the zombie as it tried to dig its way through. Grunting and groaning, Abracadaver writhed against the foliage as it crept over his body, before pausing and making a different noise.
Laughter.
A sickly aroma filled the air as wilting flowers bloomed across the vines at an astonishing rate, covering them in a bouquet of decay. Sickly jets of acid sprayed out, combining into a deluge that strained Hex's own mystical wards of protection; while it saved him from being melted like the gazebo he crashed into, there was little to be done about the physical impact. With a restrained display of magic, Hex rose to his feet, watching as the zombie wrenched free of the decomposing plants and crumbling wall.
"Nhhhhow… I'll…. laugh.. at yhhoou." The zombie croaked.
"You've been an especially annoying pest." Hex said.
He itched to blast this wretched thing away and be done with it. It would be easy. A snap of his fingers and he could incinerate it in an instant.
Hex remembered himself. The grass. There was all too flammable dry grass all around him. And houses. And people. Father had entrusted him as guardian of his domain in his stead. He would not burn it to the ground for such a petty slight.
Instead, he looked for safer ammunition. His eyes turned to a nearby bike rack.
A thought occurred. Perhaps he could simply impale the creature, skewering it to the ground. That ought to give him enough time to properly exorcize its soul from its accursed form. Hex was half-way through the movement to levitate the rack, before he got a better idea.
It had been a performer when it still breathed. Whatever was left of the ghoul's original intelligence still guided its actions. Whenever Hex cast a spell, it endeavored to turn it back around to show him up. Why not return the favor?
Transitioning mid-movement, Hex carefully weaved his staff in long, circular patterns, steeling himself as the zombie approached. At first, Abracadaver ignored it as he shambled onward, but But as light drew to a point at the end of Hex's staff, its pace slowed to a clumsy stumble.
Transitioning mid-movement, Hex carefully weaved his staff in long, circular patterns, steeling himself as the zombie approached. At first, Abracadaver ignored it and shambled onwards, but as the light drew to a point at the end of Hex's staff, its pace slowed to a clumsy stumble.
Soon enough, the enchanting light formed a spiral pattern in the air. It was a trifling tactic, and one that not one that a proper combatant would fall for. Hex predicted that the zombie was cognizant enough to be mesmerized by the entrancing motions, but not aware enough to consider that he should look away.
His hunch was paying off. Inch by inch, Abra Cadaver slowed, his rigid, contorted face relaxing for the first time in decades, dropping slack. His hands fell to his side, no longer outstretched, and the bitterness in his red eyes began to fade.
That's when Hex felt a presence behind him.
A powerful presence.
A familiar presence.
"Having fun?"
His concentration disrupted and the spell broken, the zombie lurched free of its trance. It lunged at Hex. He raised his staff to block but it swatted it away with a risen corpse's unnatural strength. The Staff of Ages slipped from his hand, but before the focusing tool could sail away, it froze midair and darted behind him of its own accord.
"Careful there, Uncle. Don't want to lose your toys."
Hex forgot entirely about the fight and turned to face his niece.
Catching the staff, the newcomer carefully looked it over, weighing it in her hands, as if recalling some previous moment of their past. The moment faded. She fixed the staff with an un-sentimental sneer.
"Hope." Hex said, his tone on edge, but under control.
The woman looked up.
"Wow. Been a while since someone called me that, Uncle. Most people call me Charmcaster these days. Especially the ones under my rule."
Hex's fist clenched. He couldn't tell if that was genuine surprise from her. However, he was certainly caught off guard. Charmcaster was the title he gave to her, and after all this time, he didn't expect her to still be using it.
She was who he knew her to be, but something had changed. He could feel it. Just barely. Like the creaking of a dam holding back a flood, or the moisture in the air before a storm.
Charmcaster was older now, of course. It had been nearly half a decade since Hex had last seen her. When they went their separate ways. She wore different clothes. A slightly regal tunic akin to the one worn by her father.
Above all, Hex was shocked that she was here.
"I hope I didn't interrupt your little… What was the word that he used? Competition?" Charmcaster said, looking over at the confused zombie.
"…I didn't expect you to come here." Hex admitted. "I used too much at once, didn't I? You noticed."
"Well, I didn't expect to find you poking a dead body with a stick. So I guess we're both surprised. You were never much of a necromancer." Charmcaster floated forward and cupped Abracadaver's chin. The creature was still too befuddled to do much about it. "Did this one break free of your control? Your underlings do have a habit of outgrowing you." She turned towards the zombie. "Don't we?"
Hex reached out with his magic and pushed Abracadaver aside. He strode up to Charmcaster's side. Smiling, she handed him back his staff, and gingerly, Hex took it.
"I will finish this. Then, we shall talk."
"No. I don't think you will." Charmcaster set her hands on her hips. "What is this, uncle? You taught me how to conjure infernos and animate golems taller than ten men! And here you are, playing around with bubbles and trimming weeds for pocket change?"
Hex's brow furrowed. "People live here, Hope. I have a duty to--"
"A mage's duty is to grow as powerful as their potential." Charmcaster admonished with a laugh. "Anything that holds you back is an obstacle to be ignored or discarded. That's what you taught me. Maybe it's a lesson you've forgotten."
"I…" Hex hesitated. He had taught her that, back when such callous words didn't sound so empty. How many hollow defeats had there been between then and now? "There are other things that matter. Some of what I taught to you was… rash."
Charmcaster's expression darkened. "Why? Because I'm stronger than you now? Because I actually succeeded? Because I don't need you anymore?"
With each accusation, Charmcaster took another step towards Hex. Legerdomain's pink fire blazed out behind her eyes, with a level of intensity rarely seen in beings of mere flesh and bone. For a moment, Hex wondered if she was actually going to attack until her head jerked to the side, away from him. She looked directly at Abracadaver.
Raising his hands up, the magician let out a desperate curse or cantrip, conjuring another fiendish trick to fight or flee. Charmcaster simply watched. She opened one palm lazily as the zombie threw its arms out at her.
Something was supposed to happen. Instead, nothing. It was as if somebody had switched off the faucet on a sink.
Abracadaver mustered a momentary scowl of confusion on his face before Charmcaster closed her hand, and the magician's body folded in two. Bones broke, desiccated sinew ripped and cloth tore as he was magically drawn in upon himself Then he folded again. And again. Half became half became half became half again.
Hex was staggered, the sheer magical force Charmcaster had used was blinding to his third eye. The forces animating the zombie were snuffed out like a birthday candle. Charmcaster was relentless in her casual tightening of her palm, crushing the corpse further and further, concentrating its entire existence down into a single black prinpick.
Then finally, as if releasing a balloon, Charmcaster let go.
Hex realized what was happening within a quarter second of the impending doom. A body's mass compacted down to a point so infinitesimally small. It would not remain stable for long.
Desperately, he called upon the Seal of Diagon and to contain the pulsating dot of volatile magic. The mowed pattern lit up around them even brighter than the sun. For an instant, it seemed like it had worked. A solid barrier formed around the point. A fortress wall.
The wall cracked.
Hex wasn't strong enough. He had barely enough time to re-cast the spell around the crowd and bandstand before it detonated. Cascading blasts of purple and white exploded from the concentrated point, engulfing the world around them. A shimmering shield spider-webbed around Charmcaster. Hex was standing close enough to her that it wrapped around him as well.
The rest of the suburb was less fortunate, the end result being nothing less than utter devastation. When Hex finally lowered his arms from his eyes, he was in disbelief. Practically the entire park was gone, reduced to nothing but a deep crater in the ground, scarlet fire licking at the stonework and exposed piping. Houses for blocks around had been shorn from their foundations, and even beyond the lip of the crater there were shattered windows as far as the eye could see.
"Hope…" Hex whispered. For the first time in ages he felt his composure shatter and fall away. Such raw power. For a fraction of a fraction of a second, Charmcaster had brought the very beating heart of magic into this reality, and before such raw undiluted force nothing could endure.
Her gaze sweeping across the landscape, Charmcaster smiled, satisfied with her work.
"Now you see my potential, Uncle." She said, matter of factly.
Suddenly, Hex remembered where he saw that fire behind her eyes before. It was the same flames of absolute power possessed by Addwaitya. Almighty usurper of Legerdomain and jealous possessor of the true name of magic.
"You.. You have the Alpha Rune, don't you?" Hex asked, quietly. He could now see clearly that the artifact was fused into the gemstone on her dress.
"Indeed.You spent your life mastering magic, Uncle. But for all of your reading and scheming, you missed the forest for the trees. With this, I am magic."
With a blatant show of force, Charmcaster's eyes glowed as a pulse of raw, concentrated magic flew through Hex's body. It was like liquid-electricity flowing through his veins. For a moment, anything felt possible.
With power like that, anything was possible. Hex had for many years dreamed of seizing the Alpha Rune from Addwaitya and returning Legerdomain to its state of glory, though each defeat after defeat left him darker and more embittered than the last. He had abandoned such lofty goals long ago, only to see the Alpha Rune before his very eyes.
"I have reclaimed our home. Ledgerdomain is mine rightfully once more. And soon, this world will be mine as well." Charmcaster declared. "It could be yours as well Uncle." Her face softened, if only just. "However far you've fallen, I did respect you once. You were an excellent teacher." She opened her mouth again, but closed it. She frowned. Perhaps she had found nothing more to say. "I'll be in touch."
And with that, she simply vanished, leaving nothing but a lingering sunspot in Hex's vision where she'd stood.
That was about when Father entered the atmosphere.
--
As Hex helped Father down onto the living room couch, he glanced back nervously over his shoulder at the view of the crater through the window.
"I'm sorry. I have let you down."
Father blinked blearily up at him as Sir Toasty fetched a large, frozen steak to thaw on his creator's face.
"Whuzzat? Oh, yeah. Dun worry about it." He slurred. "I did the same thing ten months ago."
Hex froze up all at once.
"What?"
"Hey, that reminds me." Father continued. "When are you gonna get around to teaching me some magic? Didn't you say you had an apprentice before?"
A terrible image flashed in Hex's mind. No. Not again. Never again.
He set his budding horror into determination. Hex would not make the same mistake twice.
"Yes..." Hex told Father. "I did. But I'm not going to fail you, too."
"Sounds… Good." Father said, giving one last thumbs up before Sir Toasty slapped the steak over his face.
