The Warlord

Chapter 39: Lorelei

I can sense them, slowly making their way towards Katacris. At first I thought it was simply a dream when I felt the presence of my familiar a week ago, but it seems that she is really out there, searching for me. She has brought along a companion, and they will probably reach the ruins in the next two weeks, which leaves me with half a month to perfect this new power. When the gem broke, so did my witchcraft. Spells that I had carefully memorized and honed now fell apart as I said them. For days I wept and cried over the broken gem, trying to do anything to bring back my witchcraft. And then, one crisp, clear morning, I awoke to find the sand beneath me as black as soot. In my rage and confusion, I had failed to notice what was happening to the world around me. "Be reborn," I whispered, and as if life itself had been imbued in my voice, golden grains spilled forth to replace the rotten, shriveled ones.

The fading stones danced and floated through the air at my very word; dunes twice as tall as myself sank into the ground at my will; the wind and clouds and sky became forceful gales with just a phrase from the tip of my tongue. After the first week passed, I saw the ghosts of Katacris again, their eyes sunken and dark, but not as hollow as before. Worshipper, have you discovered your new magic?

"Yes. The world obeys my every command, I only have to speak, and everything will listen."

A curse power, a skill of manipulation and force. To inflict your very will onto those that do not have their own: that is your new magic. Be warned; only foolish and pigheaded mortals can also be affected. For beings such as gods, or demons, or even dangerous humans, your power is useless. 

"Are there other powers such as mine? This magic must've come from all of you, and I do not see any signs of people who survived after stumbling across this place."

Ghosts born from violence and regret such as us do not only thrive in this very spot. Even in other continents, there will be places with pasts of strife and war. Yes, powers such as yours do exist out there.

"Why is it called a curse power?"

Controlling objects without a voice or a soul, does that not sound like a curse?

"Can you help me master this power?"

We must leave this world, worshipper. You have witnessed the atrocities of Katacris, and have cried and regretted for us. We are at peace now. This is the last time we will appear before you. Use your power wisely.

The world seemed to blur, and in an instant, the ghosts vanished into thin air. Afterwards, Katacris never felt the same; a husk of its former self, the air of mystery gone just like the ghosts. Now, with two weeks ahead of me to make this power my own, I can feel something in my bones warning of dreary days ahead. Perhaps my familiar is only seeking to return to my side, but the fact that she is traveling with a companion can only mean trouble.

"Dance for the world." I point a finger at the pile of rocks that I have been practicing with. Instantly, but almost hesitantly, they drift into the air and begin to spin in circles. Yet I can feel my strength seeping from me the longer I keep my grip on them. Finally, when my legs feel like they are about to give out, I release the rocks from my hold. They land on the sand in soft thuds, sending up small plumes of dust. I bend over to catch my breath and wipe the sweat off of my nose. Then, gritting my teeth, I rise and try something new.

"Fly and find your marks." Once again, the rocks hesitantly rise. They shoot through the air, spiraling fast enough to become deadly weapons. Five pits dug into the earth lie in the distance; five targets for my projectiles. Two falter halfway through and drop, but the other three hit their marks, crashing with satisfaction. A smile flits across my face before instantly disappearing. This power is in no way ready to experience combat. I grow weak after a few minutes of controlling the world around me, and straining myself only leads to sharp pains.