Spellbound: Rising

|| Abashed the Devil stood and felt how awful Goodness is. ||

Magic wasn't just old, it was primeval, existing for longer than anyone living or dead could remember, becoming just another facet of life before long. Those who practiced the arts were called mages, witches, and wizards alike learning their craft like any other talent or skill. Some spent their lives around it while others barely acknowledged its existence.

It was a skill born with by chance or heritage. Some were new, discovering a world they belonged to but had never really been apart of while others came from ancient, old houses that had lived rich histories steeped in magic for millennia.

One of these bloodlines was the Lazarus family, a powerful and formidable title if there ever was one, with ancestry that ran so far and deep they were almost considered royalty among their peers. Held in the highest regard and utmost respect, it was almost fitting that such a lineage, since time immemorial, a namesake of the highest caliber would be stained by the birth of its latest heir.

A one Jack Flynn Lazarus.