Cursed: Immortal

Chapter 7: Conspiracies Unveiled

Ian's birthday was fast approaching, and his powers were unveiling themselves, if slowly. His temper was a big factor in his abilities. Case in point a few months after I'd met him; he had almost destroyed the main courtyard, or quad.

In one of the few moments I'd left him alone, he had been confronted by a few of his peers, who had decided to do what bullies do best. Biggest mistake of their lives, though they hadn't learnt much from the experience.

Anyway, in a fit of rage, he had reduced almost every sculpture and fountain to rubble, almost decapitating everyone in range, including himself. I'd stopped it, but barely, controlling thousands of pieces of rubble is very taxing.

Instances such as those had to be avoided, which was the entire point of the binding ceremony. But I had to teach him how to control himself, even without such a seal in place. So almost every day after our return from Etherea, we had been practicing his self-control.

And it was definitely not going well. He hated meditating, exercising, spell work and anything not involving video games. He moaned about it so often I started sending electric jolts up his spine to stop him talking.

"Either you learn how to deal with it, or I'm going to turn you into Frankenstein's monster," I yelled at him one day. For such a sweet guy he was amazingly recalcitrant when it came to bottling up his magical abilities. The genes of Hades were finally showing themselves, not something I was particularly enjoying to be honest.

"Well you seem to be enjoying it," he groans from the floor.

"Look," I say kneeling down next to him." I know you hate it, I did too at a stage, but it's this or every creature in the magical dimension will be able to sense you a mile away. And most of them are not mage friendly."

"How in the good sweet hell do you do it then?" he turns onto his back to stare at me, tears brimming from the jolts. I may possibly have used a bit more energy than I thought. We were on the roof of my tower, so as not to harm the other students, or the castle. The grey storm clouds were growing overhead, but the view was still amazing.

"Technically, I grew up with elves, and they really do not enjoy showing their emotions. Especially not after what Morgana did to a continent during her first –and last- temper tantrum." I cross my legs, and he sits up and does the same. There's a rumble of thunder in the distance, but it isn't close enough to make me worry about rain.

"Continue," he looks interested so I keep going, pulling my hair over one shoulder and playing with it.

"The elves were not always as calm as they are now, and spent a great deal of their time fighting petty battles for no good reason. Morgana couldn't bear to see her people so divided, so she called them together on the isle mortals have called Atlantis, and tried to reason with them." I sigh and look into the sky, but go on.

"They began to fight among themselves again, so she walked to the middle of the main factions and stood between their leaders. When she asked them to stop, they refused, so she screamed and the ground began to shake. The water rose and she cast a shield around herself, while most of them were killed, but the ones who hadn't fought and had stayed by her side were spared. The isle sank beneath the waves and Atlantis was forever cemented as the lost continent. So now, no elf dares to lose their tempers, and all of their children are taught from a young age to hold complete control over themselves."

"It took almost two hundred years for me to master this technique, and I admit I'm not always as careful as I should be." Ian just stares at me.

"What?"

"How old are you? Do you know the precise amount of years?" his eyes are wide.

"I don't know," I look away, trying not to meet his gaze. I know just about how old I am, but it's difficult to put into a number he can grasp. The elves kept meticulous records, but there are only so many cycles one can register, and age destroys even the best of paper.