The Claiming

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Erik

"Erik, on this day you have reached the age of twenty. It is on this day we give you to the energy in your blood that you may be chosen for the light or the dark. Do you Erik understand what I am Saying?" The old woman said to the crowd below her. As her voice carried throughout the torch-lit hall the crowd behind me kneeled and I arose.

"Yes Lady Sandra, I understand that it is my place in this world to wield the magic I was born with. And I accept that I will be given my fate tonight." I said loudly my voice carrying in the hushed stillness if the crowd, eagerly awaiting the outcome of the ceremony.

"Then you may proceed to the pedestal." She said with a dramatic sweep of her hands towards a massive stone pedestal in the center of the crowd.

Walking through the crowd towards the pedestal I knew that all eyes were on me. Dozens of people watched with bated breath to see if I would be claimed light or dark. At the steps, up to the stone slab I paused. My eyes glanced over the walls of the stone pedestal. Pictures of men and women, witches all, standing on the stone as beams of light or tendrils of darkness surround them altering them, claiming them for the light of the dark, suddenly two big heavy hands land on my shoulder. Looking up it is my uncle Robert Divare.

"I know you don't remember them, but your parents will be so proud of you whether you are claimed for the light like they were, or not." Uncle Robert isn't my uncle. He was my father's best friend. All witches were orphans. To have a child was literally a death sentence for my kind. A rare few witches may have twins or triplets, but after having a child the witch will surely die. Our mother's life protects us until age ten, and our father's life adds to our power.

"Thank you, Uncle." I say to him as I square my shoulders and walk up the pedestal. There are few brief mutterings from the crowd as I stand on the center. Suddenly the moon rises to its peak and the crowd goes deathly silent. Holding my breath as I wait for the claiming to begin. With no warning, I feel a heat so intense I feel as if the sun itself is bursting inside my veins. On the back of my neck the burning intensifies and I let out a scream as I collapse on the stone grasping at my neck as if touching it would ease my pain.

"Erik, you have been claimed for the dark. What is your Specialization?" A man's voice calls out.

I open my mouth to speak and I feel the rush of newfound power in my veins burning like magma. The second I push air out of my mouth it ignites into a brilliant white flame.

"My specialization is the element fire!" I call out to the crowd. Suddenly a hand reaches down in front of my face and I reach to take it looking up into the face of a man I have never seen. He pushes his glasses up with his free hand and I glimpse into the old eyes of a young man. With a kind smile he helps me stand.

"Erik, you have been chosen for the dark, your powers will make you a warrior, and you control the element of fire." He pulls up the hair covering the back of my neck and looks at it. I can't see his face but the gasp that escapes his lips concerns me.

"What is something wrong?" I ask as my hand touches the back of my neck and I pull away just as quickly with a cry of pain. The spot on my neck is burning hot.

"Everything is OK Erik, but it seems you will be immensely powerful." He pats me on the back and says to me happily, "Welcome to the Order of the Pentacle."

I looked at him and nodded thoughtfully.

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