What once was dead shall rise again
Rein of terror, reign of might
Let darkness now consume the light
I repeat the vicious spell, my voice so powerful and all-encompassing, it’s nearly unrecognizable. Magick sizzles through the air. A wall of fire rises before me, burning the bodies of the dead to ash. Seconds later, they reform, rising once again to take up arms—not at Judgments command, or Chariot’s, or even the Dark Magician’s.
But atmycommand.
Everywhere I look, the earth runs red with the blood of the dead—the broken witches and mages of Arcana Academy.
They fall like dominoes because of me.Forme.
The sight of it makes my cock hard with something far greater than lust.
Thisis power. This is what I wasmadefor.
From the fury to the flame
What once was dead shall rise again
Rein of terror, reign of might
Let darkness now consume the light
I’m shouting the words now. A hot wind gathers around me, whipping my flames into a frenzy. With every recitation, the power inside me intensifies, rippling outward and transforming the landscape before my eyes. Where proud buildings once stood, suddenly there’s only rubble and ash. Trees bend and melt, jagged obsidian spires rising in their place. The screams of the fallen ring out across the burning campus, a near-deafening cacophony of pain.
With smoke and fire and ash and terror, I’ve finally done it. I’ve turned the sun black.
It’s devastating. It’s destructive. And it’s utterly intoxicating.
Yet through it all—through the snap of bones breaking and fire crackling, through the singe of magick in the air, through the haze of smoke and brimstone, through the stench of blood and death and rot—somehow,sheremains.
And she’s come for me.
I can sense her. Feel the ancient magick flowing through her Sword. Hear it singing in her very blood.
It calls to me as deeply as the fire in my Wand once did.
“Ansel McCauley!” she cries out across the blood-soaked ground. Her voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “I’m here to take you home!”
My lips curl into a sneer as I jump down from the fountain and turn to face her.
Her hair is wild and windblown, her face smeared with blood and grime. Her clothing is torn and tattered. A shoe is missing.
This war has stolen the shine from her eyes.
Yet the sword in her hands remains unblemished, a gleaming beacon.
The woman is as beautiful as she is formidable.
If only she’d chosen sides more wisely.
“So the Star Arcana lives,” I say. “Another miracle for the precious spirit-blessed witch. I’d offer a slow clap, but as you can see, I’ve got my hands full.” I shift the Wand from my right hand to my left, then back again.
If its raw power impresses her, she doesn’t show it. Her eyes never leave mine.
“I’m here for my family,” she announces. “It’s time for the Dark Arcana to leave this realm.”
