Page 29 of The Holy Academy of Witches

Kind regards,

Dr. Robert Calderwood, PhD.

??Autumn147.zip

I opened the attached documents, transferring them to my external hard drive and deleting the original, including the email itself. I made myself a black coffee and sat down to read through the files.

The necrosis curse was becoming widely used in the attacks across Europe. I had seen evidence of this in the media but seeing the prevalence, the number of casualties in black and white was pivotal for me. I hated what the world was becoming, the needless death, the constant to and fro of power, the predictable nature of politics. Light vs dark… good vs evil… but there was no good in this war, only evil. Catastrophic damage and terrorisation was becoming frequent now, neither extremist group taking the blame. Evidence was still found at each attack, showing the truth to those who knew where to look, that both light and dark magic were responsible for the terrorist acts and the rest of the world were caught in the middle.

Of course our government and the rest of the world were doing very little in the way of researching what could help, choosing instead to remain neutral for fear of starting a war.

I waved my hand over the illusion hiding the loose floorboard by my bed. From within, I gathered the supplies I needed. I created a circle of salt on the ground and lit candles around the perimeter. Saying an incantation for protection, I entered the space, placing down the shallow golden bowl in the middle.

Fear was a fascinating thing, I thought as I summoned a ball of fire into my hand. The flames flickered rapidly as I poured more and more magic into my palm. It was so all consuming, an absolute barrier in the mind most people refused to cross. But the things people could achieve if it wasn’t for that singular emotion… I added a pinch of ground lavender to the flames and willed the fire into the golden dish. Retrieving my blade from its velvet pouch, I sliced my palm deeply. My mind utterly focused on the curse, it’s collapse and ultimately it’s antidote. My blood dripped steadily into the fire, the flames lowering as it began to simmer in the bowl.

I then dipped the middle finger of my right hand into the wound on my palm, my intentions twisting, morphing into something worse as I drew the greater malefic symbol on the centre of my forehead. Negative thoughts flooded my mind as I closed my eyes. Tipping my head back, my hair cascading like a river behind me, I whispered the words of the required dark ritual over and over. I could feel the icy grip on my soul as I spoke words of such darkness my eyes became a black void, consumed. The feeling of euphoria bubbled low in my belly, whispers of revenge, glory, promises of brilliance… Power. I spoke the words aloud, dark intentions of death and decay at the forefront of my mind as I created a physical representation of the necrosis curse.

I opened my eyes, causing a single tear of blood to roll down my cheek as I examined the green orb of magic floating before me. I reached forward, gesturing for it to rotate as I observed the details of it. My fingers were stained black, the dark gift in my veins spreading up my hands and arms. The aura surrounding the orb was so thick with malice and rot my stomach roiled, acid burning the back of my throat.

I muttered to myself as I considered the magic used in its creation, attempting several spells Dr. Calderwood had hypothesised could be useful in breaking it down. I made notes on a scrap of paper as I tried each one again, noting any changes, no matter how minuscule. With frustration, I tried once more, focusing all my magic on the spells I was using but nothing changed, it was still failing.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, releasing my magic outwards. The books on my shelves shifted as the panes of glass in my window rattled. What was I missing? I clicked my fingers and flicked them downwards, lowering the orb into the purity bowl. Sealing it tight, I incinerated the orb just as my phone chimed with a message from Cillian saying he was ready to meet.

I sighed, rubbing my temples, trying to relieve the ache building as I looked around my room at the ritual display. Glancing in my dressing table mirror at my blood stained face and still black eyes, I winced. I guess I should probably have a shower before I meet Cillian.

* * *

“Go on then…” I said, flopping down onto the grass as I reached Cillian an hour later. Thankfully, all exterior signs of the magic I had performed had quickly disappeared. The internal ones… well, I was alive and breathing… What more could I ask for?

Cillian raised his eyebrows at my lack of disregard of the dirt on the ground. I patted the grass beside me, encouraging him to sit.

“‘Go on then, what?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“You know what…”

“I actually don’t…”

“Cillian, how do you know her?”

“Who?”

“Sage!”

“What?” His eyes widened in surprise.

“Not what, who! Sage! Sage Williams,”

“Sage Wil… that’s her name?!”

“Right?! She’s named after a herb,” I snorted.

“What?… no, I just… I didn’t know her name.”

“I bet her brother’s called Basil,” I laughed to myself.

“Theodore,” he muttered, “that’s her brother’s name,” he explained on seeing my confused expression. Huh… well that’s no fun, “…Sage,” he said quietly, as though testing the name out.

I laid back, tilting my face towards the descending sun, as I waited for Cillian to catch up.

---