AN: Hi friends! New story here that I've been wanting to write since before In the Docks (and I even have the first draft back from July '09 to prove it!). Reviews are always appreciated, and encourage me to get chapters out faster! But without further ado...
Disclaimer: Naoko Takeuchi and Hans Christian Anderson own more stuffies than I do here! :( Mega thanks to Kaitlyn Fall who has beta'd this and the next chapter.
The Wise Man
There are fewer mysteries in the world than how the Wise Man came to be. Those who speak of him do so in hushed voices and fervent whispers. There are some who consider him a myth – a fearsome but fictional character made up to frighten children and make them behave.
But the Wise Man was not a myth, and some of the rumours had small hints of truth to them. The Wise Man was a fallen angel; that much was correct. And his talents and delight of terrorising the good people of the Living World were hardly exaggerated.
Victims of his 'amusement' were rarely heard of again.
His dwelling lay high above the Living World in a suspended fortress. The large sphere was where he spent all of his time, when not down on Earth satisfying his thirst for entertainment.
And so it is with the Wise Man that we begin our tale; our tale of friendship and loss and love and the strength of courage.
The Wise Man glided back to admire his work. If he had a mouth, it would have warped itself into a cruel and sinister smile of satisfaction. But what remained of his face after his Fall from Grace was hidden beneath a dark, hooded cloak. Instead, a faint eerie glow from twin sunken holes in his melted flesh was all that indicated his pleasure at the sight of his creation having been complete at last.
Though the entire room was made of enchanted mirrors – some transports to other realms, far, far away; some bewitched in other ways, of hunting humans or seeking answers – it was this mirror that he was most proud of.
This mirror that he hovered before could ruin the very universe. There was not a being in the Living World who could not fall to their knees from the mirror's power. It could overwhelm even the Earth's proudest man.
For this mirror was enchanted in the most wicked of ways. A creation of the Wise Man's, this mirror was the product of every bit of sorrow, misery, hopelessness and despair that the Wise Man had created in his victim's before their cruel and untimely deaths. It had the power to distort its own reflection – anything good or beautiful was dissolved into nothing, and anything horrible and ugly was magnified until it was the only thing the viewer could see. Nothing good could come out of this mirror.
The only exception was the Wise Man, for there was no more evil or ugliness to magnify in his appearance, and it showed him exactly the way he appeared. He was the Devil. He could look no worse.
As he pondered where to start his worldly torture, his fingers sought his crystal ball. They swirled above it and a faint hum began to sound from within the glass. Moments later, five figures emerged from various mirrors around the room.
It was the Four Sisters and their leader Rubeus; angels the Wise Man had dragged down with him after the Fall. Presently, the sisters Avery and Prisma were partaking in a silent feud, having argued over the best way to polish off their latest innocent. Avery had wanted to stretch their victim to his death; Prisma had wanted to poison him. But in the end, it had been Rubeus who had finished the man, having him drown in the nearby lake.
"You called, Master?" Rubeus inquired humbly, bowing at the waist, as did the Four Sisters around him.
"I have a task for you," the Wise Man's deep voice echoed around the round room. It would have sent shivers up any human's skin, had any been present.
"Anything, Master," his five apprentices murmured at once, bowing once more.
His glowing eyes flashed once more in the mirror. "It involves travelling to the Living World with a very special creation of my own."