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Darius took a deep breath, settling his churning stomach. He had always considered himself an excellent public speaker. He was well spoken, charismatic, poised, and he had a perfect smile.
Still. There was so much riding on this. He couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect today.
"In summation," he announced to the watching board of judges, "My research into ancient abomination magic has unearthed a collection of historical spellwork that will be invaluable to incorporate into modern uses. My book, publication pending, details the process of research and usage, as well as the rediscovered techniques to perform these spells today."
He couldn't keep the smirk off his face before he spoke the next line. "To conclude my presentation, I prepared a demonstration of perhaps the most powerful of these spells."
He watched several eyebrows raise and a quiet murmur from the judgement panel. The principal, his abominations instructor, the superintendent, a high ranking official in the Abominations Coven, and one more.
In the back of the room, a figure lurked in the shadows, cloak pulled around his body to render it formless in the darkness, his shimmering gold mask tilted downward to watch him through his visor. He has stood completely motionless during his entire presentation, as still as a corpse, as if he were petrified beneath that cloak. Darius swallowed and pulled his eyes away from him.
"Behold," he puffed, and bowed with a grand flourish as abomination matter surged up around him and drew him downward, into the stage through a complex machination of material transformation,and reappeared in the center of the theatre behind the judges, giving a little spin and throwing his hands in the air. He smiled wide. "Translocation."
Four startled witches spun around in their chairs to face him, eyes wide and jaws slack. Darius could hardly contain his delight. That had been precisely the reaction he had been hoping for.
He set his hands on his hips and winked, disappearing again into a swell of abomination matter and reappearing on the stage. He took a grand bow.
"Thank you for your consideration," he said primly. He waited until he heard applause to stand back up. "I look forward to your judgement."
In the back of the room he looked up at the Golden Guard who hadn't moved from where he stood, or even moved at all.
He slowly tilted his head down toward him. Darius felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, filled with unease. He kept his smile on and exited the stage.
Back in the front lobby, he couldn't stop smiling as he buttoned up his coat. He'd known, deep down, that he was going to do well, but at the same time, he'd been so terrified of failure. There was so much on the line.
He waved at the last few stragglers who were still waiting to present their own projects, before he pushed open the front doors of the school and stepped into the awaiting night.
It was an eerie one, for sure. With a new moon, the Isles were darker than usual, only the stars for light below the inky canvas they were set within.
He wished he had a palisman. He hated walking everywhere. If only Palistrom wood hadn't become exorbitantly expensive.
He had no sooner stepped onto the path through the forest in the direction of his home on the outside of town when he heard the snap of a twig behind him. He spun on a heel, but saw nothing but the gentle ruffling of leaves in the wind. Warily, he turned back around.
"Ah!" he cried, stumbling backward.
Before him stood the Golden Guard, his cloak softly blowing around his ankles, visor tilted downward and reflecting his own frightened eyes back at him.
Darius' breath caught in his throat. What could he want that he hadn't said in the presentation room? He worked directly for the Emperor, and Darius had heard the stories of him hunting down wild witches ruthlessly, of how unmatchable he was in combat, fast and silent and utterly, devastatingly deadly.
His hands shook at his sides and he opened his mouth to demand to know what he wanted, when the Golden Guard began making little flappy motions with his hands and bouncing up and down on his heels.
"Eee!" he squealed in obvious delight. "Oh, Titan's beating heart, that was so cool!"
Darius stared at him, brain chugging to a halt. What?
"How did you do that?" the Golden Guard asked, leaning forward to look up at him through his visor. "Oh, that was amazing, you have to teach me!"
"What??" Darius balked. This wasn't happening. There was no way this was happening.
"Look, I can do like, a little version of that–" The guard twirled his staff and then disappeared and reappeared a few steps away in a burst of red light, before returning the same way. "But I can only do that for short distances, and only within sightline! I love abomination magic, but I have never seen anyone translocate before!"
"I, uh," Darius said in utter disbelief. All he could think was wow, he has a really annoying voice. "Thank you?"
The other man stuck out a gloved hand. "Oh, right, sorry. Hi. I'm the Golden Guard. I know your name since I saw your presentation, but I know it's important to introduce yourself properly."
"Uh," said Darius, warily taking his hand to shake. "Right. I'm Darius Deamonne." He paused. "Is 'Golden Guard' your actual name?"
The guard waved a hand dismissively. "Pssh, nah. My real name is classified, though. I don't give it out to just anyone."
"...Right," said Darius. "You… wanted me to teach you to translocate?"
The guard nodded rapidly.
"It's pretty high level abomination magic," Darius said dubiously, "I don't think just anyone can do it."
"Pfft," said the Guard. He twirled his staff and snapped it upward, summoning a massive abomination that towered over the both of them. Another twirl and it warbled in its shape before reforming into an exact purple replica of himself. "Tada!"
"You're an abomination witch?" Darius blinked.
"I'm an everything witch!" the Guard corrected. He waved his staff and dismissed his abomination. "You know, Emperor's Coven privilege and all that. Abominations are just one of my favourites. That's why I'm here judging presentations!"
"Huh," mused Darius. "I wouldn't have guessed that by your reputation."
The Guard sighed dramatically. "I know, I know. I don't get to show off much. I spend most of my time in the castle with the Emperor. But I'm not there right now! I'm right here. With you, kid!"
"...Right." Darius tilted his head at him. "Kid?"
"Kid," the Guard repeated.
Darius was not so sure. His voice did not sound much older than him.
"So?" the Guard prompted. "Will you teach me?"
Darius wasn't certain. On one hand, getting close to the Emperor's right hand man could be the best possible networking connection he'd ever make. On the other hand, he was… strange, and Darius was extremely busy with his studies as it stood. On a third hand, the Golden Guard was the enemy of a great many rebellious criminals on the Isles. Criminals that might become his enemies too if he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Listen, kid," the Guard said when he was silent for too long. "How about this, then. You are clearly set to make your way up the ladder in the Abominations Coven. That technique alone will get you there– but with more training, I believe you could get all the way to the top. If you teach me to translocate, I'll make you my apprentice. I'd love to help you climb that ladder, Darius Deamonne."
Darius's heart stuttered to a stop and then exploded back to life. That was an opportunity beyond his wildest dreams. An official apprenticeship? To the leader of the Emperor's Coven and the Emperor's right hand man? He was right, that would get him far.
The Guard leaned in close and raised a hand beside his mouth as he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I have access to restricted material from the Emperor's library. You think you've dug up some neat ancient spells? I've got things I could teach you that will blow your mind and change the way you think about abomination magic forever."
"I–" Darius swallowed. "Me? You're sure you mean me?"
The Guard tittered with surprised laughter and stood back up straight. "Yeah? Of course I do. I'm talking to you."
"Yes," Darius breathed, "Please. That would be incredible."
"It's a deal, then!" the Guard bubbled, offering him his hand again.
Darius accepted it, heart aflutter, and shook it firmly.
Darius was enraptured by the text he was reading. There were spells in here that probably hadn't been seen in centuries. Ones he was quite certain he would be killed if anyone found out he was reading. All kinds of matter transformations. Most interestingly, ways to turn ones whole body into abomination matter. It was incredible. It was fascinating. It was–
"Ow!"
Darius looked up and raised an eyebrow.
The Golden Guard was hanging in the air from his ankle, held by a rope of abomination matter, face mashed into the training field of the castle courtyard. Darius had watched in amusement earlier as his new mentor had strode in, fully outfitted in his uniform, waved his staff and ordered all the scouts out for private training. Then he'd ripped off his cloak and gambeson and announced he hated getting all sweaty, and immediately tripped over his own feet and collapsed face first into the ground.
Darius was beginning to find his personality shifts endearing. He got the feeling not many people saw the real Golden Guard, a clumsy, excitable goofball who didn't seem to know how to stop talking. To everyone else he was a stoic, precise and silent soldier who may as well be a soulless vessel of violence for all the personality he showed.
"Are you okay?" he inquired.
The Golden Guard wiggled in the hold of his incorrectly cast abomination spell, but didn't drop. Darius frowned, waiting for him to draw a spell circle and set himself free.
The Guard pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around blearily until his visor fell upon where he'd dropped his staff and it had clattered to the ground. He wriggled toward it, reaching an arm out as far as he could making grabby hands, but it was just barely out of reach.
"Are you good?" Darius asked. He set the book he was reading aside and stood up, crossing to where he was trapped. The Guard squeaked as he pulled hard against his caught leg, straining for his staff.
"I'm– just– fine–" the Golden Guard grunted.
"You don't look fine," Darius said dubiously. "Why don't you just let yourself out?"
"I'm— I will–" his mentor said in visible frustration. He gave up on the staff and fell back with an oof. "Titan, fuck it," he cursed, and tore free a surprisingly large knife that had apparently been concealed on his belt. He leaned up, grabbed his ankle, and brought up the blade with the extremely clear intent to cut it off.
Darius drew the fastest spell circle of his life.
The Guard caught himself as his ankle was released with one hand and pushed off into a half-flip that set him back down on his feet, twirling the knife in his fingers. He shoved the blade back into wherever he'd pulled it from and bent down to pick up his staff.
"What in the Titan's bleeding fist was that?" Darius balked.
"Nothing," the Golden Guard dismissed. His usual light, bemused tone was gone.
"Were you going to cut your foot off?" Darius demanded in complete shock. "Why would you do that?"
"I could grow it back without breaking a sweat."
"You could also just pull your foot out??" Darius burst. "It's just one spell circle!"
"It's flashier," the Golden Guard snapped, sounding immensely displeased. He turned back around to face the strange abstract sculpture of hardened abomination matter nearby and waved his staff at it. It liquefied and oozed into the ground and away.
Darius didn't know what was going on. His mentor would usually say such a thing with a smugness to rival a Titan, delighted in an opportunity to show off. Now he sounded angry and miserable and, for whatever reason, somewhat humiliated.
"I don't understand," he said, feeling useless. "What's wrong?"
The Golden Guard didn't face him. He tightened his grip on his staff, and Darius watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths.
He turned back around, mask unreadable.
"Just me being a dumbass!" he laughed, his normal chipper tone back. "Conked right on my face that time. You know, you're lucky you don't know what it looks like under here, it's starting to get real bad."
"But–"
The Golden Guard twirled his staff and walked by him to where he'd left his book on the bench and peered at it curiously.
"Hm," he mused. "Reading up on matter transmutation, eh? That's fun stuff. You know, forbidden and all that, but golly! Everything fun has to be forbidden, huh?" He leaned on his staff and tapped his foot. "Forget translocation. I'm gonna wait for my nose to stop bleeding. It's your turn to eat shit and look stupid."
Darius wobbled uncertainly.
"C'mon, kid," the Guard scoffed, "You're my apprentice, remember?" He picked up his staff and gave it a spin, and Darius squeaked unbecomingly as construction magic brought the ground surging up in a slope that sent him tumbling backwards head over heels. "Chop chop! Back to the grind!"
"Alright, alright!" Darius snapped, standing up and dusting himself off. Now he'd messed up his cape, and the Guard knew how much he hated his cape getting messed up. "Alright. Let's do this."
"Let's do this!" the Guard chirped merrily.
Darius was surprised when the doorbell rang. There was only one person who ever rang his doorbell, and today was not a training day.
The Golden Guard was on his doorstep holding a champagne bottle.
"Uh," Darius blinked. "Hey."
"I've got it!" the Guard cheered. "Translocation. I have got it."
"That's great!" Darius said, perking up. He was still working on an abomination form, but it was much higher level magic.
"Come celebrate with me," the Guard urged, holding up the bottle.
"Celebrate how?" Darius asked.
The Guard held up the champagne. "I brought alcohol! It's a full moon! And I know the perfect place to watch it. C'mon, kid, indulge me!"
Darius sighed, and then, despite himself, smiled. He turned back into the house.
"Mom!" he cried. "I'm going out!"
"Is the Golden Guard here?" his mother called back curiously from her bedroom.
"Hiya, Mrs. Deamonne!" the Guard beamed beneath his mask. Darius couldn't see it, but he could tell. "Hope you don't mind me kidnapping him for a bit!"
"Not at all!"
"Alright, alright, let's go," Darius laughed. He stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind him. "Where are we off to, then?"
"Hehe," the Guard giggled deviously. "Hang on, kid."
With that he grabbed Darius about the waist, and abomination matter surged up around them. They were momentarily trapped in darkness, before they reemerged far away, on the roof of the Emperor's castle in a little alcove that was hidden from any windows. A blanket rested across the shingles there. The Guard plopped down, and when Darius looked up, he realized he had been telling the truth. The sky was beautiful today.
He uncorked the champagne with a whoop of delight. Darius huffed a laugh and sat down beside him.
"How are you going to drink that without–" he began.
Before he could finish, though, the Golden Guard reached up and removed his mask.
Darius snapped his mouth shut.
The Guard had a gaunt face with high cheekbones and a crooked nose that had clearly been broken more than once. His magenta eyes were sunken into his skull and his thin, pale lips were pulled into a smile, his features framed by short, scruffy white-blonde hair.
And there were four huge slash-mark scars across his face from his left temple to the cut of the opposite jaw. They looked deep, and poorly healed. No magic.
The Guard gave him a crooked smile, scars pulling in a way that looked uncomfortable, and revealed a tooth gap that seemed strangely fitting on him. "Yeah, I know," he laughed. "I'm not much of a looker. Lucky the uniform comes with a mask."
He brought the bottle to his lips and tipped his head back. He wiped his mouth and offered it to Darius.
"I didn't say that," Darius said, unable to tear his eyes away. "It's just… not what I was expecting." He accepted the bottle, and then hesitantly took a sip.
"It's fine," the Guard shrugged, looking away with a weak smile. "I own a mirror. I know what I look like. It's not a big deal." After a long moment, he looked back up at Darius. "My name is Jasper, by the way. No last name."
"Jasper," Darius blinked. "I thought your name was classified?"
"Fuck it," Jasper laughed. He waved for the bottle back. "Who are you going to tell? I'm your only friend."
Darius scoffed, confusion and shock subsiding into feeling completely affronted. "That is not true!"
"It is so true," Jasper snorted. "Don't worry. You're my only friend, too." He took another swig. "Titan, this is such a stupid way to drink champagne."
Darius softened. He sighed wistfully with a distant chuckle. "Yeah. Alright. I guess."
Darius swelled with pride on stage as it was announced that he would be the new head witch of the Abominations Coven. In the crowd he could see his mother beaming with pride, and distantly, Alador with a blank expression, as if he were hollow. Darius knew that he was jealous. All of the money in the world couldn't buy this kind of influence, and they both knew it. He had dropped Darius like a lead weight, but Alador was the one who had truly fallen.
Darius hoped that there were spikes at the bottom.
The Emperor was an imposing figure. It was not the first time Darius had spoken to him, but it was the first time he was this close to him. They left the stage after the announcement concluded, and he watched the Golden Guard follow Emperor Belos rigidly and in silence.
The Emperor came to a halt, speaking to the head of the Plant Coven, Terra Snapdragon. The Guard stood an oxlength away, head raised and looking straight forward.
"I want to thank you for your mentorship," Darius said as he approached him, well aware that the Emperor's presence called for formality, but he also hoped he might earn his friend a few points through overheard praise. "I could not have accomplished all that I have without you."
Jasper was silent.
Darius fidgeted uncomfortably. The Emperor didn't seem to notice or care. Darius looked back at Jasper, but he was completely motionless. He acted as if Darius didn't exist– as if no one else existed at all.
Only the Emperor.
Emperor Belos nodded, thanked her, and then walked away, The Golden Guard following at a tight heel.
It was unsettling to watch. He'd seen him on duty before, but he'd never spoken to him while he was, or even seen anyone else try. His rigid, precise and formidable presence felt so at odds with who he was when he wasn't around the Emperor– goofy, smug, bratty Jasper turned into a toy soldier wound up and moving. It put a strange, uncomfortable pit in his stomach.
Darius slid forward on his right foot and arced the abomination matter he was controlling downward like a whip. Jasper parried it easily, slapping it away and ducking. Even his cloak curved from the way he moved so perfectly that the pristine white fabric didn't get stained.
"Titan," Darius panted, wiping sweat from his brow, "You are impossible to hit."
Jasper twitched, but with his mask and cloak on, Darius couldn't tell why.
"Not impossible," Jasper laughed, but it sounded oddly strained. "Come on. Keep going."
Darius grit his teeth and nodded, before forming his abomination matter into a fist and slamming it forward at his opponent's midsection.
He easily flash-stepped away and appeared behind him, staff colliding with his ankles to knock him to the ground.
Darius groaned from the training floor. Not impossible, he says.
Jasper stared at the stars as if he weren't physically able to look away. Something about his expression worried Darius, and he leaned forward where he sat on the roof of the castle.
"Jasper?" he prompted.
"Will you promise me something?" he asked.
Darius blinked. "Promise you what?"
Jasper didn't look away from the sky. "If something ever happens to me," he said quietly, "Promise me you won't do anything about it. You won't ask any questions. You won't get involved."
Darius sat up straight, eyes widening and ears swiveling upward. "What? What are you talking about?"
Jasper finally turned from the sky to look at him with the most pleading, desperate, earnest expression he'd ever seen on him. His eyes were begging him for this. "Promise me. Darius, I need you to promise me."
"I can't do that," Darius balked. "Jasper, if something happens to you, I–"
"Darius!" Jasper yelled, surging forward to grab his coat by the collar. He looked panicked suddenly. "Promise me you won't do anything!"
"Okay!" Darius cried in alarm, raising his hands in a show of surrender. "Okay, okay. I… I promise."
Jasper visibly relaxed. He let go of his jacket and sat back, looking down. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Okay. Thank you."
"Why… Do I need to promise that?" Darius asked.
Jasper looked at him with weary, tired eyes that sunk more deeply into his skull than Darius had ever seen them. He smiled weakly.
"It's not important," he said sadly. "What is important is… I'm glad to have known you. Thank you for being my friend."
"Jasper…" Darius trailed off. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He didn't know what it was or how to help. His heart ached in his chest.
"It's fine," Jasper said, turning to give him a weak smile that didn't reach his watery eyes. "Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you." He chuckled shakily and looked away. "I'll make sure of it."
Darius woke to a loud, insistent bang on his door that had him groaning. His time was quite regimented as a coven head and he didn't have any to spare if he wanted a full eight hours at night, and if he had any less it was hell on his skin.
He opened the door wearily, only to wake all the way up at the sight of the fully outfitted Golden Guard.
"Jasper?" he asked, straightening his spine. "It's–" His eyes slid briefly to a clock on the wall. "Three in the morning?"
"I know," his friend said. He didn't sound at all tired. "I just had to speak to you before I left."
"Left?" Darius asked, beginning to feel alarmed. "Where are you going?"
"A mission," Jasper dismissed, "A dangerous one. Don't worry about that right now."
"What kind of mission?" Darius fret. He did, in fact, worry.
"Classified," Jasper replied. That was a word he had not said to him in a very long time. "Listen. I might not come back from this one. Do you remember what we talked about?"
He sounded so serious. He never spoke like this, not to him. "...Yes," Darius replied, swallowing.
Jasper's shoulders relaxed. "Good." He paused, and then reached out hesitantly, as if not entirely certain he should, and touched the side of his face with a gloved hand, rubbing his thumb against his cheek. "Trust your heart, and nothing else."
"Jasper, I–" he said hoarsely, ice between his ribs.
"It's alright," Jasper interrupted him, voice shaking minutely. "One way or another, you'll see me again."
He drew his hand away, and then, straightening up, his aura of seriousness returned. Silently, he turned and strode down the hall, cloak billowing behind him and staff in hand.
One day Darius would be ashamed that he stood in his doorway and watched him go without following. Today he waited until his friend left his sight around a corner, and then he turned away.
"Hey! You're Darius, right?"
Darius turned his head and then looked down. A child dressed in a scout uniform like an oversized costume was looking up at him, mask on top of his head. His eyes were bright and he had a smug smile on his bandaged face, gap between his teeth that only highlighted how young he was. He couldn't have been more than eleven.
"Yes?" Darius sighed testily. He was busy today and Lilith was due to arrive at any minute to begin the meeting. "The grown ups are busy at the moment, little prince. Now run along and do whatever it is you do."
"Nuh-uh!" the boy huffed, setting his hands on his hips with a pout. "I'm s'posed to be shadowing your meeting today!"
"Oh, really?" Darius asked dryly. "And who told you that?"
"Un– Emperor Belos did!" the boy said, smug grin returning. "I'm going to be the next Golden Guard, you know. Then I'll outrank you."
Darius's lip curled and he snapped his scroll shut. "Is that so?"
"Uh-huh!" he asserted. "That means you'll have to do whatever I say!"
Darius leaned down to meet his eyes. Pink. They reminded him of someone he couldn't think about without his throat closing up.
"Let's get one thing straight, little prince," he said in a low voice. "I do not care that you are the Emperor's nephew. You might be the next Golden Guard, but that won't be because you earned it. It will be because the rest of your family died and you are the only one left to fill the role. You have the position by default. Do you understand?"
The boy wavered for a moment, smile faltering, and for just a second, Darius felt a little bad.
"You're just jealous that you'll never be as important to the emperor as me," the boy laughed, crossing his arms. "I'm gonna be the best Golden Guard there ever was."
Darius stood up, looking down at him with disdain.
"Sure," he said, voice dripping with bitterness, and loathing, and grief, and regret, "Little prince."