Lake Of Tears
Chapter 2
Jeremy trudged through the mud to the schoolhouse. It had been raining. Jeremy enjoyed this kind of weather; it let him savor his perpetual misery. Well, enjoyed was a rather strong word. He didn't like it. Hate is a small word with a bitter and painful meaning. Like his life. Hate was one of Jeremy's favorite words. Jeremy arrived at the schoolhouse, ready for another day of suffering.
The tyrant stood by the door where he always was, waiting for Jeremy. His name was Josh, and his talent was getting away with things. His two minions (yes, minions; he controlled them through intimidation and suggestion) stood beside him. Their names were Tim and Lewis, and they looked as though they would prefer being anywhere but here. Josh grabbed him by the hair as he always did, and demanded "the goods" from Jeremy. When Jeremy failed to produce anything, Josh thrust him back and instructed his two minions to grab Jeremy. Tim, a rodentlike midteen, shot him a sympathetic glance as he subjected the slightly younger Jeremy to a headlock. Josh strode up, all testosterone, and proceeded to beat the living hell out of Jeremy. He brutally punched him and kicked him, drawing blood and causing pain to flare through Jeremy's body. Because of the boy's Talent, Oxford was oblivious to the brutality going on just outside his door. As Josh continued to beat upon Jeremy, he could feel his anger rising within him. It seethed through his blood and filled his head, but, while it usually stopped there, today king Jeremy had had enough. The anger literally exploded out of him, engulfing Josh and his minions in white fire. For some reason, this came as no surprise to Jeremy. The fire continued to rage around him, and he felt it tearing him apart from within, an unstoppable force working to destroy him. He did not hear the hoofbeats of a panicked Centaur, nor the screams for mercy of three agonized teenagers. King Jeremy the wicked had his bittersweet revenge.
Daxlove let the odd crystal device hang loosely around her neck. The device Grossclout claimed would find the bright one. It suddenly stood erect and spun toward the southeast, glowing purple. Daxlove had never seen it do this before. She turned into wind and shot off in that direction.
Daxlove hovered above the North Village, witnessing a horrific fight scene. Well, not too horrific, by demon standards. It really got interesting when the victim suddenly exploded, surrounding himself with an inferno of white fire. This must be the prophesized Bright One. Daxlove saw that the Bright One was in danger, but knew she could not get close to him without risking herself. He was falling apart. Without her intervention, he would surely die right here and now. She swooped down, turning into a cage to hold the power together and prevent the further dispersion of the energy that was the boy's life-essence. The instant it touched her, she felt the energy attack the magical stuff she was made of, assaulting the very fiber of her being. She changed shape as her current one dissipated, only to be attacked again. She changed at a frantic pace, into anything she could think of, in a desperate effort to save the Bright One without compromising her own immortal life.
Gray Murphy was passing through the North Village, on his way to the Gourd for not particularly pressing matters concerning the Night Stallion. After some time, he noticed (if noticed were the proper phrase) a great inferno of magical nature and a demon wrapped around it, flickering from one shape to another, almost definitely in distress. Without questioning the appropriate course of action, he loosed his nullification magic, letting it flow around the demon to neutralize the inferno. He felt heavy resistance, and since the inferno was subsiding, decided to relent. At the center was a boy whose body was still infused with white light, and to the side was a female demon he did not recognize, pale and gasping with exhaustion.
Chapter 2
Jeremy trudged through the mud to the schoolhouse. It had been raining. Jeremy enjoyed this kind of weather; it let him savor his perpetual misery. Well, enjoyed was a rather strong word. He didn't like it. Hate is a small word with a bitter and painful meaning. Like his life. Hate was one of Jeremy's favorite words. Jeremy arrived at the schoolhouse, ready for another day of suffering.
The tyrant stood by the door where he always was, waiting for Jeremy. His name was Josh, and his talent was getting away with things. His two minions (yes, minions; he controlled them through intimidation and suggestion) stood beside him. Their names were Tim and Lewis, and they looked as though they would prefer being anywhere but here. Josh grabbed him by the hair as he always did, and demanded "the goods" from Jeremy. When Jeremy failed to produce anything, Josh thrust him back and instructed his two minions to grab Jeremy. Tim, a rodentlike midteen, shot him a sympathetic glance as he subjected the slightly younger Jeremy to a headlock. Josh strode up, all testosterone, and proceeded to beat the living hell out of Jeremy. He brutally punched him and kicked him, drawing blood and causing pain to flare through Jeremy's body. Because of the boy's Talent, Oxford was oblivious to the brutality going on just outside his door. As Josh continued to beat upon Jeremy, he could feel his anger rising within him. It seethed through his blood and filled his head, but, while it usually stopped there, today king Jeremy had had enough. The anger literally exploded out of him, engulfing Josh and his minions in white fire. For some reason, this came as no surprise to Jeremy. The fire continued to rage around him, and he felt it tearing him apart from within, an unstoppable force working to destroy him. He did not hear the hoofbeats of a panicked Centaur, nor the screams for mercy of three agonized teenagers. King Jeremy the wicked had his bittersweet revenge.
Daxlove let the odd crystal device hang loosely around her neck. The device Grossclout claimed would find the bright one. It suddenly stood erect and spun toward the southeast, glowing purple. Daxlove had never seen it do this before. She turned into wind and shot off in that direction.
Daxlove hovered above the North Village, witnessing a horrific fight scene. Well, not too horrific, by demon standards. It really got interesting when the victim suddenly exploded, surrounding himself with an inferno of white fire. This must be the prophesized Bright One. Daxlove saw that the Bright One was in danger, but knew she could not get close to him without risking herself. He was falling apart. Without her intervention, he would surely die right here and now. She swooped down, turning into a cage to hold the power together and prevent the further dispersion of the energy that was the boy's life-essence. The instant it touched her, she felt the energy attack the magical stuff she was made of, assaulting the very fiber of her being. She changed shape as her current one dissipated, only to be attacked again. She changed at a frantic pace, into anything she could think of, in a desperate effort to save the Bright One without compromising her own immortal life.
Gray Murphy was passing through the North Village, on his way to the Gourd for not particularly pressing matters concerning the Night Stallion. After some time, he noticed (if noticed were the proper phrase) a great inferno of magical nature and a demon wrapped around it, flickering from one shape to another, almost definitely in distress. Without questioning the appropriate course of action, he loosed his nullification magic, letting it flow around the demon to neutralize the inferno. He felt heavy resistance, and since the inferno was subsiding, decided to relent. At the center was a boy whose body was still infused with white light, and to the side was a female demon he did not recognize, pale and gasping with exhaustion.
