Chapter 3 Deadly aim

It was night, full moon, round and immortal star that reigned in a sky covered with stars revealing an immutable beauty, and yet seen from these inaccessible heights, strangely sinister. The compact mist took on a terrifying and mysterious aspect under the moonlight, and the nocturnal creatures invaded the dark and forbidden kingdom, howling with terror, roaring in the vast and deep forest, covering almost all the territory of Stanys, the so-called forbidden mountain. Their eyes glowed in the darkness, and they all fought with terrifying ferocity for survival.

An imposing building, located in the middle of these dreaded lands, perfectly hidden from the invisible black peaks, was illuminated by stellar reflections and countless menacing artificial shimmers.

In the heavy, dark sky, a whole cloud of flying creatures appeared, hunting in groups and violently dividing each captured prey. One of them suddenly broke away from the group, and with abject eagerness, flew at a large animal with bulging eyes and a gray-stained body, and grabbed it easily. When the beast, with its prey clutched in its cruel claws, joined its companions, they fought for the animal and tore it to pieces miserably. But after they swallowed its flesh with joy, another beast, colossal in size, appeared behind them and caught almost all of them in its voracious mouth. It landed heavily on the ground, chewing its prey with visible satisfaction, drooling over a few scraps of flesh and bone, its sharp teeth gleaming in the night. Then, pleasantly licking its chops, the beast quietly joined its other companions, who also gave the image of having been fully satisfied with their hunt. The bloody beasts moved about in the darkness, their only realm, faithfully guarding the sordid orphanage founded by an ancient magician who loved cursed stories.

But the estate was now run by a new, equally feared black magician, who that night was looking forward to a terrifying and sordid game that was especially dear to him.

Large moving shadows crossed the surrounding courtyards, devouring all the creatures they encountered on their way, and spilling their blood everywhere. They scaled the thick walls of the orphanage to rush to the lighted French windows and rush in. The visible lights that pierced the darkness went out as they passed. Shadows ran through long, wide corridors lit by magic lamps and crystal chandeliers, all breaking in the wake of the waves of shadows. They approached an imposing doorway carved with powerful, indecipherable spells in moving black letters. The dark mass stopped there for a split second before opening it and invading the entire room.

Two guardians-an old magus and a very young one-walked out of the thick pool of shadow before bowing to a man sitting in a large armchair, wearing a long grey tunic embroidered with silver thread. Ironically, the sorcerer's servants themselves wore beautiful ash-white uniforms with silver metal outlines that also bore spells as fearsome as they were obscure. The old attendant, whose name was Köel, had long, straight, white hair and various marks written on his giant body. One of his eyes was closed by a powerful spell to protect it because he was said to be able to see what was totally invisible to others. The youngest, who was aptly named - Johes, which in the old language meant the offspring of slaves, had short, curly hair, dark brown, and a thin, openly sadistic face with the most unstable character and hatred of light. He'd stop at nothing to contemplate the deep suffering of the people.

Sirkol gazed at him with irony and amusement, having felt, during his mountain crossings, his blatant pleasure in devouring nocturnal beasts and all the sparks of light.

"We are here, master," the cunning Köel respectfully announced.

Sirkol turned his glass of wine nonchalantly, contemplating the red liquid illuminated by the faint starlight with a kind of perverse fascination, before drinking it with his eyes closed.

"Master?" the old sorcerer insisted, without getting an answer.

Finally, the director decided to answer.

"I heard Köel."

He took a deep breath, but continued on a completely different subject.

"I've always liked this kind of drink, my dear servants. So much so that I drink it every day and of all kinds. And yet, strangely enough, they have never quenched my thirst, not once. I even feel, with each passing day, a growing and intolerable dissatisfaction, which gnaws at my mind, and which only quenches when the full moon shines, perfect in the immortal night of Stanys. What a pleasure to live this short period and all that it represents".

Then his expression changed and became as cold and rigid as ice.

"But I was almost impatient to wait for you. And you are perfectly aware that this is one of the things I cannot tolerate, isn't it?"

"Yes, we know that, master. We apologize for the inconvenience."

"It's good that you understand. After all, I never repeat a warning a second time."

Although shivering under the explicit threat of these terribly well-articulated words, the two guards were equally excited and delighted. For just like their master, they loved evil, and especially Köel, despite appearances. For unlike his young teammate, he was frighteningly calm, more mysterious and cunning, hiding behind an impassivity, his greedy and devious nature. In a way, he was even more unfathomable and indispensable than his director. For if we consider things correctly, Sirkol, despite his qualities as a perfect world man, his remarkable intelligence and his irrefutable ability to lead, was deep down and above all a cruel, heartless and totally bloodthirsty being, even to the detriment of all his pleasure in suffering others. While he, Köel, by his finely observant skill and his well hidden ambitions, knew how to evolve in the shadows, adopt any profile and accomplish any mission, this is why he had always, from a very young age, held positions of high responsibility in any organization he joined, except that of a leader. No, this position at the top never attracted him because it demanded a place in the sun, which he could not bear, the gaze of others and their judgments. He was an observer, not a watcher.

"Is everything ready?"

"Perfectly, master," Johes replied, his face expressing an unhealthy pleasure of anticipation. "We apologize again for our delay. But you would be happy to know that they are all hungry, hungry and eager to eat anything as long as it looks like fresh meat. You will be very happy to see it during the "show".

Sirkol smiled pleasantly but cruelly when he heard this satisfying news.

"As you said, it's perfect then."

Sirkol stood up, still holding his empty cup in his sharp fingernails, while admiring his desk whose walls and floor were covered with two-tone marble and granite, white and black. It was a large room, where an entire wall was occupied by a shelf full of thick books, all of which contained stories of black magic, or various other subjects related to the dark worlds. A huge bay window offered a breathtaking view of the terrible and timeless Stanys Forest. Another wall was entirely occupied by a huge life map, representing all the children of the orphanage.

It was a large animated image reflecting all shades of blue, on which shimmering golden dots were shining, signifying the young lives imprisoned in the cursed city. Each shimmering dot was different in terms of light and size, just as the quality and magic differed for each child. And one dot in particular, depicting a young child locked in a dark room, was extraordinarily bright, so bright that Johes, when he saw it, immediately lost patience and reached out his hand to the bright spot, sending a powerful wave of darkness crashing down upon him. The darkness wavered under the sinister attacks of young Johes, and everyone could feel the pain that the child felt because of these terrible attacks. But the point soon overcame the waves of dark force that had fallen on him and regained all its tenacious and dazzling light. The young black wizard complained in frustration as Sirkol mocked the failure of his young and hateful guardian.

"How pathetic, Johes. But now you must understand that there are things you can never defeat, let alone extinguish."

Johes shrugged his shoulders and became angry.

"Light has never been a necessity, my master. It is only a world of false hopes created by the weak."

Sirkol raised his eyebrows and turned to his young servant.

"I notice that you always like to turn off the light, Johes, or more intensely than usual. More than passion, it is your obsession, the motor of your existence. But we both know that it wasn't the light that beat you a minute ago, was it?"

Johes shook his head, exasperated.

"This being, whom everything can't help but call a prodigy, is made for the light."

"Yes, it is true. But he ignores it and will always do. So, what's the problem? »

"The only problem is that it's not turned off yet. And that he is what he is. That's why he has to die. Because he will never understand darkness. Even his coming here to Athok is shrouded in mystery". The young servant spat resentfully, his eyes burning with hatred, jealous of all those who were gifted with the extraordinary like the young prodigy he seemed to hate and envy so much. "No one will probably ever find out how he got to the black doors of the building, or more precisely who put him there. But if this filthy stranger looks like this abominable child, then he too would deserve to be punished".

"How cruel and cowardly you are, Johes." The black magician exclaimed in a significant gesture, falsely horrified, even though he hid it as best he could, everyone knew that he was most affected by his inability to feel the presence of the child's carrier. "You are destroying in another way what you are unable to overcome by yourself."

"You are the one who condemned him!" the servant replied angrily, deeply offended.

"Oh, it is true." Sirkol nodded casually. "I have only decided to take care of something that you will never have the strength to do yourself," the Athok chief added, playing with his cup before reducing it to dust. "Anyway, you're as weak as a shiny little bird, Johes. So now, to console you for your failures, young slave, I'll let you rejoice in the fall of your invincible enemy.

The young slave clenched his fists, burning with murderous rage.

"I'm going to do it. I will watch him suffer and die without missing a single moment of this unforgettable spectacle."

Sirkol approached the bay window and gazed at the night landscape, a vast world of darkness, filled with terrible beings. Their sparkling eyes and bodies moved through the black mass of the veils of mist.

The round moon and its invulnerable lightning illuminated this banished kingdom with its opal clarity. Sirkol saw his face and body reflected through the bewitched glass of the bay window, his gray hair combed backwards, falling onto his shoulders. His amber eyes clearly showed his imperishable adoration for all that the light hated. But the most fascinating and frightening thing about him was his large body, whose color was perpetually divided between black and white, and covered with symbols as ugly as they were deep, representing a powerful shield of evil that protected him from any outside attack.

"You may leave now. Go and prepare our little prodigy for the feast, and don't forget to take his faithful friend with him. If he really must perish, let him not be alone at least. After all, we are responsible for an orphanage. We must ensure the welfare of the children and give them the best of ourselves."

"Very well, master," Köel replied, constantly displaying an indecipherable face.

The two guardians bowed deeply to the magician before descending into the sea of shadows and leaving the room in a heart-rending roar. Sirkol admired the night through the window, then turned again to the map of life, contemplating the glow of a boy whose exception was terrible. Then he smiled cruelly.

"Ah, what a beautiful night. A wonderful night to kill the child."