The Legend of the Eight: The Gifted

Prologue: Manifest Destiny

"One day, they're going to talk about us and what we did. They will read about us in the history books—either as the people who saved the Three Realms, or the people who destroyed it."  

Prologue: Manifest Destiny

HE REMOVED A MATCH FROM the jar and struck it against the stone wall, watching as a flame ignited at the tip. He walked the burning match to the center of the room and when he removed his hand, it hung in the air magically. The light continued to grow and brightened the dark room to reveal three hooded figures—each more dastard than the last.

     The first, a man of average height with blonde hair at his shoulders, was named Bartemius. He had been in the Shadow Lands for sixteen years—Banished for various crimes, most of which were unspeakable—and his time in the prison world made him an even crueler and more despicable man. He cleared his throat and then addressed the others.

     "Jeremiah," he said to the second man—one who towered over him and hadn't aged a day in his twelve-year sentence. "Dominic," said Bartemius to the third—a rounder man with a strange twitch in his eyes that was unsettling.

      "My, it's been a long time."

     Jeremiah dropped his hood, revealing a dark mop of hair and even darker eyes. He was tall and lanky, as though he'd been stretched like a sweater from the wash, and when he scratched at the five o'clock shadow on his chin, a purplish, star-shaped scar on his hand became visible.

     "Why call us?" Jeremiah demanded, an edge to his voice. "You must know the danger it poses should we be spotted together."

     "Maybe it's because yourspell failed," snickered Dominic, speaking in a faint French accent like he'd been cultured into it. Though he tried to hide it, he seemed delighted by the news of Jeremiah's failure. The men shared a long history of trying to best each other and often took pleasure in the other's misfortunes.

     Bartemius's hands tightened into a fist and he exhaled a sharp breath. "I'm aware," he replied and it was everything he could do not to slap Dominic. His voice was razor sharp and his eyes set into a glare. "Which is why I've called upon the two of you."

     "Us?"chuckled Jeremiah, shaking his head because he was both amused and in disbelief. Bartemius must have been out of his mind to think they would succeed after so many failures. "What do you take us for, Bartemius? Fools? Why would we ever help you after the last time? We were almost killed."

     But Bartemius smiled, like he didn't feel threatened at all by the possibility of death. Almost like he welcomed it.

     "Perhaps," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Though you both have debts of your own that need settling—debts that can be repaid once we are free from these Shadow Lands."

     "And if the Alchemist returns to stop us?" Dominic questioned with a hint of fear. Though the Alchemist was believed to have died many years ago—in fact, Bartemius claimed he was the one who killed her—there was always the lingering thought that maybe, somehow, she survived.

     "Eva will be of no problem to us," said Bartemius surely. "She's been dead for fifteen years and while I've seen many remarkable things in my lifetime, a resurrection has never been among them."

     Jeremiah snickered to himself. "You seem rather confident," he said like it was worth noting. "Have you found some other way through the Veil?" He didn't even bother to hide the doubt dripping from his words.

     Twenty-six years ago, Jeremiah was just a man in the World of Magic, living with a woman he loved and expecting their first child. He always had less than honorable habits but none worthy of Banishment. Just before his son's birth, the mother of his child disappeared. Jeremiah was devastated and pursued them both for years at all costs. His devious acts drew the attention of the Royal Council and he was Banished. In the prison world, he found himself face-to-face with the malicious Bartemius Thawne, Banished years earlier for crimes too lengthy to list.

     The men had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse since and somehow, Bartemius always managed to escape. One time, he went so far as to subject himself to vampire's venom as an additional means of security and had he not, he would've been six feet under.

     Two years ago, Bartemius approached Jeremiah with plans to escape and they called a ceasefire. Unbeknownst to Bartemius, Jeremiah continued searching for his own way of escape—one that would leave Bartemius trapped behind.

     Bartemius smiled wickedly and when he did, he revealed two rows of teeth capped in gold. In the low candlelight, he looked like a cartoon villain. Shadows from the flames danced across his face and his hair was knotted in a thousand different tangles. He wore a cape like he'd committed to the character and had he not been so frightening, he probably would've looked ridiculous.

     "The Eight will turn eighteen this year," he said with a confidence neither Jeremiah nor Dominic recognized. "Their magic will manifest and they will be marked. Once the comet passes and the protective magic around them expires, I will be able to take back what was stolen from me and we will finally be free of this prison."

     "How can you be so certain?" Dominic sneered with a brow raised suspiciously. "We've tried this so many times before."

     "I have been waiting sixteen years for this," answered Bartemius, maliciously. "And I refuse to spend any more time behind this Veil."