Author's Notes: I wrote this as a mini-bang for the DCBB community. It was beta'd by Zoe and Elmie, who also was my artist (she's amazing like that). Her art post is here.
And if you're wondering what happened to my other fic, What Once Was Lost, I have not abandoned it. I will be finishing it, hopefully sometime soon!
Prologue
Age 6 Months
I shall tell you a story that begins some three hundred years after the Geas stone was wrought. Like many stories, this one stemmed from a boy on the brink of becoming a man. From birth, he knew he was a very special boy, and not only because his mother died bringing him into this world. This boy, you see, was the son of the High Wizard, and as you all know, the Geas took the magic from every mage but the High Wizard and his children. The boy, then, was one of the few mages to keep his powers, and he was quite powerful. Had he wanted, he could have succeeded his father and become High Wizard in his stead, but this boy had a different sort of ambition.
He grew up on a mountain surrounded by lands still scarred by the Mage Wars. To the east bubbled a poisoned spring that turned all living things into twisted beings covered in thorns and boils. To the west sat a stone that shattered into a thousand knives at sundown, only to reappear whole and unmarred at dawn. To the north lay empty fields, infertile since the battles that raged there three centuries prior. When Argeus the Just crafted the Geas, he thought only of sealing away magic and ending the wars. He didn't consider these lingering curses. Afterwards, only a handful of Wizards were left with their power intact, barely enough to handle the greater needs of the kingdom. These smaller wounds were ignored, and gradually, the knowledge to heal them was lost.
The boy saw great injustice in this arrangement. Why should anyone still suffer from the actions of their ancestors? How many years was payment enough? While his father's loyalty lay with the king, he made his allegiance to magic, but it is a dangerous thing to attach oneself to something so vast and undefined.
This is not, however, entirely his story. No, the history that I relay to you today is more suitable for the occasion. Today I give to you an account of good and evil, love and perseverance. This story starts not with one boy, but two.
I shall begin with their first meeting, which was told to me by our dearest Dowager Queen.
This story began when Michael Argenet was both High Wizard and Royal Wizard. He was no longer a young man, but he was still one of the greatest mages this court had ever seen. At the time, he resided at Mage Peak with his four children: Raphael, Anna, Gabriel, and Castiel. While Michael was frequently seen at court, his troupe of children would only come down from the mountains, through the forests, and into the streets of King's Point on special occasions.
One such occasion was the Blessing Ceremony of the King's first-born son. Clad in their dark robes, the group of five Wizards floated down the Main Way and through the gates of the castle. The Great Hall had been decorated with hundreds of colorful candles and tapestries and streamers, so the Wizards looked like little patches of night sky amidst the revelry. Michael held his youngest child in his arms and his other three trailed behind him like ducklings. A hush fell over the guests as they they spotted the Wizards making their way down the center aisle.
The High Wizard and his family knelt before the dais, dark blue robes pooling around them like liquid until the King bade them arise and come forth to perform their duty.
The Prince was asleep in his gilded cradle set between the two thrones, his mother and father seated on either side. Michael began the ceremony with a recitation memorized from the Geas itself, words of sorrow, guilt, and, ultimately, of penance. One by one, the Wizards came forth to grant their Blessing and fulfill their duty. From Michael, the prince received the Mark of Health, from Raphael, the Mark of Courage, and from Anna, the Mark of Strength. Gabriel, who was a small, round child with rosy cheeks and chubby legs, scampered forward and shoved his soft hands against the sleeping Prince. He did not give a Blessing, but an Oath, swearing himself into debt in his soft lisp and careful words. At five years of age, he did not have the power or the control to give the Prince much more than pink hair or a slight rash.
The Oath, another edict handed down by the Geas, was a Blessing to be given at the Prince's discretion. In truth, many saw this as the greater gift than the Marks granted by his siblings. You see, the Blessings given to the royal children are the strongest form of magic, strengthened by the Geas itself. A Promise can be used to win battles, ensorcel a mind, and move entire mountains. Of course, should a Wizard die before the Promise is fulfilled, then the recipient is left with nothing.
But let us return to our story.
Finally it was time for the youngest Wizard to meet the little Prince. Michael strode forth once again to present his youngest son at the cradle. An infant himself, the boy did not understand why his father took his furled fist and laid it against the other child's forehead, holding it there even as startled green-blue eyes blinked open. His father's voice was deep and solemn in his ear, saying the words that would bind him to his own Promise. But you will see, by the end of our story, how our little Wizard managed to escape its fulfillment.