The Magus
The announcement hadn't fully left the herald's lips when all that were present had already bowed without the faintest of doubts. The Great Magus, the greatest leader the mystics had ever known, walked into the room exuding raw power and an aura of unquestionable supremacy. No sound but the one of a single pair of feet was heard until the throne at the end of the room was occupied.
A figure kneeled on the left side of the throne stood up, yet only long enough to walk to the center of the room and face her liege. "Enchantress Flea wishes to make a report, Great Magus," she said, bowing in a knee so deeply that her forehead touched the floor. She kept her gaze low, far from the eyes that bore down on her. No mystic would ever dare to look at The Magus in the eyes. However she saw a faint shadow of a smile that let her know that her action had been met with approval.
A subject could only estimate what was going on The Great Magus's mind by looking for such subtle signals. Inquiries were asked in a way completely devoid of emotion, without hints to the correct answer. Warnings to subordinates were hardly given; when you were considered to be more of a burden than of a benefit, you received the highest and in practice only punishment in the Mystic army.
Thus the mystics were among the most efficient armies to ever walk the world. When a wrong choice could make every decision your last one, you always did your best to assure you chose rightly. There had been a few fools who had tried to mask their mistakes, yet all they had attained was that their punishments had not been as quick or as painless.
Flea knew the silence meant she should continue and straightened herself a bit. Facing the leathered boots of her master and speaking in a clear, sure voice, she continued. "It has come to my knowledge that Sir Cyrus of Guardia is journeying towards Denadoro Mountains with the purpose of retrieving the Masamune." She lowered her gaze again, as it should be done whenever The Magus was about to speak.
Never, in the thousands of years of Mystic History, the race had possessed such a strong commander. The mystics by nature did whatever they pleased, and refused to stay under the command of another of their kind for long. That was they reason they had never gotten very far in war against humans.
But their new liege knew how to lead huge groups of people. Knew how to stifle revolts. Knew how to deal with minor leaders, how to coerce them into submission. Knew how to organize a bunch of run-amuck magic users into a functional and efficient arcane unit. Perhaps those claims of belonging to royalty, so long ago, were true.
And most importantly when concerning mystic leadership, The Great Magus mastered the art of magic with such raw intensity and skill that most mystics were convinced to the very soul that they had been sent a godling.
"Understood. Then, we will go to meet him." The most respected voice in Medina Island, which some worshipped as a kind of treasure by itself, came out of the shadows that covered the upper part of the throne.
Only one kneeling in the very front of the dais, as Flea was doing, would be able to see part of the master's face where all others saw darkness. Very few saw the lips from which their commands emerged. Even fewer saw the look in the eyes of the giver of those orders at the moment of their uttering. And almost none knew enough about what the Great Magus had originally been to suspect why that was so.
However, before Flea could acknowledge the orders, the voice continued, "As soon as he recovers the Masamune, I will face him."
"But…!" Flea started to exclaim, yet she caught herself immediately. Fear threatened to creep into her eyes, but as the seconds passed they widened ever so slightly instead. That she had not been struck down immediately was the way to let her know that she had become worthy of high esteem, at least enough to let her dare voice her thoughts about her liege's actions.
"I thought the purpose of going to meet Cyrus," Flea said bowing again as low as she could, that being the only position in which she could conceive questioning the utmost leader of the whole mystic race, "was to prevent him from obtaining the Masamune."
"The Masamune is not something I have never dealt with, Flea.", came the reply in a calm tone of voice, "Believe that."
Flea nodded. Long ago her liege had gained not only her respect, but her trust also. The fall of many a ruler had been to think themselves invincible and ignore their own limits. The Great Magus knew that.
"This is the blade of legend, Glenn, the Masamune." Cyrus said, gazing over the waterfall at a sky that just began to tinge with the red of the setting sun. "Not even The Magus that leads the mystics is impervious to it. With this sword I shall end this war for once and for all."
"Why don't we prove the truth of that statement right now?"
Cyrus and Glenn turned immediately. The very entrance to the cave they had just crossed through was now occupied.
They weren't expecting this. They weren't expecting me either. Just look at the face of the green-haired one.
"Cyrus? Who is that?" Glenn asked halfway between surprise and wariness.
The Knight Captain, however, immediately recognized the attire and readied the sword he had just drawn from the stone. "That, my friend, is the one the mystics worship. The darkness made flesh. The Magus."
"What? But I always thought The Magus was a…"
"IT is a mystic, Glenn. That is all that matters."
How would I love to point them out of their mistake. But I guess I would have no way to prove it to them. Or maybe they're right. I am a mystic. I have been a mystic a long time.
"At last you dare to show yourself, shadowy fiend."
"My appearances seem to be scarce only because few survive them."
"Glenn, stay out of this." Cyrus warned as he gave a step forward.
"Don't worry." Flea said, appearing from behind the silhouette of the enemy. "I will make sure your little friend has enough to keep him busy."
Glenn nervously drew his sword, but managed to gather his courage before the mage fired her first attack.
The air became filled with screams of war.
Soon later, they were screams of agony.
On the jet-black night that followed, atop the highest tower of the mystic fortress, The Magus' cape flowed in the wind, revealing the form-fitting clothing below.
The clouds parted, and a single beam of moonlight shone on the top of the tower. For that instant, just for that instant, The Magus ceased to be, and became a being with feelings and regrets, and something to hold dear over all else.
He was a noble man. In the old days, I would have done anything on my power to spare his life. Yet I know it is the person I was who regrets it; the person who I am now does not see any wrong in it.
Simply, it was necessary. I will do that, and much more, to attain my goal. Lavos will die. With its blood it will pay for the way it twisted my mother's soul to its whims.And when Lavos is gone, I will look for you, my dear. I will travel earth and sky, future and past, Heaven and Hell, Genesis and Apocalypse if it is necessary to find you. Even if when I do, you will no longer recognize me.
I am glad it was me. You were much too innocent to have made it. Or would you?
Sometimes I wonder if Lavos' Gates were up to fate or randomness. I wonder what would have happened if it had been you. If you had been forced to survive what I went through.
She spared a last gaze at the horizon before turning away, just as the ray of light died away to nothingness.
What would you have become, Janus?