beckoned the shadows of my memory, so my mind took the descent into
the darkness. Feeling the strange sensation of falling, the whorl
of blackness around me swirled into soaring pillars of a cavernous
chamber-I knew this place. It had haunted me ever since I had seen
plumes of smoke sinisterly snaked from the cold flagstone ground,
shaping into twelve, standing hooded figures. Their eyes blazed
with white fire as they all stared down upon me knelled before
them, their vision searing into my soul. The figure that towered
within the middle, stepped forward, and outstretched a spindly,
gnarled hand that clutched his wand. Its tip was pointed directly
"Alas, you are
before the Brethren, Alecander and alas before me, the Reor," he
hissed, his raspy voice stung the choking air. "You have no alibi
"You will not
speak, until granted to do so," he clarified authoritatively,
snapping his wand upward; my partly open jaw was clamped shut by an
invisible force that welled tears in the corners of my eyes.
Alecander Morpheus deny your treason against the Seal, the Ring of
the Wizards by the murder of Hezekiah the Sagacious, of which guilt
bleeds from your very hands?"
I felt the
crushing pressure evaporate long enough to give my answer. "No,"
I muttered, my lips trembling.
the time has come my Brethren. With the power invested within the
Brethren of Counsel: I sentence you, Alecander Morpheus, to an
eternity of solitude baring the Curse of the Dedecor-the
The Reor moved
his wand in a wild activity, and my right arm was snatched, upheld
forcibly before him with my wrist exposed from my cloak. A violent
enchantment of ancient words escaped from the pallor of the Reor's
thin lips. A terrible, bright emerald light exploded from the tip
of his wand and streaked to my wrist.
cry of agony shattered the still air as my body writhed
uncontrollably, consumed in an invisible fire. Heaving
hysterically, the deluge of tears burned against my skin. My sight
blurred; I glimpsed the pulsating flaming white light of the Cursed
Mark charred below my hand. Then the darkness took me.
awaked to sound of my own horrified screaming, the salty stains of
my own tears against my cheeks. Grasping at my chest exploding with
my hammering heartbeats, I saw a blindingly white light shaft from
my right hand. I turned over my arm, seeing the ornate outline of
the Cursed Mark emanate in glowing brilliance. It had never done
this before-in all my one thousand-five hundred and twenty-nine
years of living, if this life can be called living.
dimmed, before completely fading away. It left the infamous
inscription as I had always seen it: a flat, colorless four-pointed
diamond inked into being by Dark Magic. The Cursed Mark.
jaggedly healed wound was ripped open, my dangerous past bleeding
through once more. My breathing became more normal, but my arms
still trembled as I looked to the shabby, cracked wall of the old
apartment, and not into his enflaming white eyes. I realized it was
only a nightmare, but a nightmare of what once was, the deciding
event that had taken place so long ago I nearly had forgotten.
was the first time I had dreamt of it in centuries. But why?
recollections of one's past-Glimpses-only came when something was
upon the knife's edge of happening. Something that would alter the
fate of surrounding that one person forever. That much I had
learned as a child in Seminary.
lay back down slowly against the lumpy mattress, attempting to
forget the flashes of their scorching eyes, and the excruciating
pain, but the nightmare had left its after-burn irrevocably.
Staring off to the grimy, boarded-up window, the luminary moonlight
seeping through its chinks, I drifted into sleep.
eyes flittered open to the pale morning light. Blinking, I breathed
in the stuffy, dusty air; what was the point of cleaning up an
apartment of an abandoned complex?
The noisy din
of the New York traffic outside was muted by the thick, brick walls
of the old building. The warm sunlight pooled onto my bed, duskily
lighting the clouds of dust, swirling about and that settled amidst
my eyelashes. I blinked again, yawning as I stiffly arose from the
squeaky mattress. I threw off the covers, and swung my white legs
over the bed, resting my bare feet against the cold, hardwood
sat there momentarily, taking in another morning, another morning
alone. A sigh weighed with an ancient desuetude poured from my
partly open lips. I couldn't remember the last I had spoken, and
actually heard my own voice. It had been so long, I had almost
forgotten its sound.
any of kind of alone. This was different. I had faced it more than
thousand years of living, did face it, and would face it until the
end of the ages.
was what the Greeks called Pliris Apomonotirio, complete isolation.
The atmosphere agonizingly became pungent to inhale, crippled with
erect, I drifted toward what could only convey my existence into
actuality, the only remembrance that I was not walking some
purgatory peripheral to the supposed afterlife. I slowly sat upon
the rickety bench, and stared into the mirror before me, broken by
three sinuous fractures, which all diagonally intersected focally
at the center.
when I first moved into the apartment upon an unearthly whim, I saw
this mirror was a reflection of me-broken from all society, and
humanity, whether that of the magical or the mortal.
expected, my own physical reflection hadn't changed at all, not
even a minute differentiation. All the same. As it had been since
the Curse was irrevocably burned upon me, an immortalizing
parasite. My theory was simple. When the Brethren, all distinct
now, I easily enough surmised, or more hoped, had bound this
immortal Curse upon me all those years ago, when I was but a young
man, seventeen, its magical binding kept me this way,
pale face remained unchanged, framed by my long white blond hair.
Eyes that had seen so much:pain, wars, love, death, family, life,
and the eternal beauty, all that was out of my reach, except for
the pain, stared back me, glinting, the same bright green.
felt most like the relatively recent invention, a photograph framed
upon the wall above everyone, the frame's glass-this Curse-trapping
me from contact, from feeling what I longed to feel: passion,
romance, wonder, the security of another, only the soft touch of
hand entwined with mine. But none of that was possible. I was the
only one who knew I existed. No one else did.
crafted face that peered back me, broken-heartedly, tortured
silently, shattered by the cracks within the mirror belonged to
that of a cursed wizard. I was a wizard, my identity in a nutshell.
And I supposed I was the oldest wizard, well, ever. But did that
matter, when you were invisible?
what I was: invisible. The Curse had made me invisible, like
this-forever. I could feel without actually feeling; I could see
without actually seeing. I appeared within this mirror, as I
coexisted within this Earth, but only unto my own eyes, and to no
one else's. And I lived this way within the shadows of the humans,
drifting, always drifting.
closed my eyes and released a sigh, before opening them again.
There was no rationality in becoming angry; I had learned that well
enough. Nothing could change my state of being. Nothing, expect one
remedy. But I heard it was only a myth, and so I forced myself not
dwell upon it.
had searched for it, for three times. And three times I failed,
empty-handed. Such was this lonely life.
that moment there was a disturbance in the air, a wooden rattling
against my nightstand. An object flew across the air at my call and
darted into my sight. I caught my wand, my eyes gazing of its
ornate form. My once Master Obaeus, who now, I hadn't the slightest
inclination of what happened to him, other than obviously passing
into the Other World, had given this to me the last time I saw him.
He said my training was complete, that I finally had learned the
art of Wizardry, but I had not yet reached Mastery-now I was most
positive I was beyond that benchmark, having lived for so long. I
missed him greatly; he had been like my father, since I never knew
of my parents.
But I couldn't
dwell too long upon that. I needed to get out of this apartment.
The wand was all I left of my old life-all the Brethren left me
with, as they saw that the invisibility negated my magical
abilities being any further problematic. Closing my eyes, I raised
my wand and thought within my mind envisioning the top of the
felt the brisk March wind, unhindered, against my skin before I
opened my eyes. When I did, my sight awakened to the blindingly
crimson sunlight burning brilliantly through the breaks of the
clouds, setting all beautifully afire. I walked without hesitation
and fearlessly stood upon the edge of the eight-story building, my
eyes sweeping over the busy town below, a town I had seen for over
twenty years. Now, I knew all the ins and outs of this city.
small smile curled my lips.
soft, mystical golden light radiated from my wand, and consumed my
body. I stepped off the building, and dove into my descent. Crying
out loudly, for no one could hear me, exhilarated by the swift
spiral downward, the wind whipped against my face and through my
long hair. Just when I might have crashed against the pavement of
the bordering sidewalk, I jerked myself up with the fling of my
wand, and shot forward passing over the talking heads of
business-suit dressed people on their cell phones, gone unnoticed.
I laughed like always.
took to the sky, feeling the weightless thrill excite every fiber
within me and explode a fireworks of adrenaline beneath my skin.
The rush was incredible. The means unbelievable. I flipped twice,
before freewheeling over a flock of squawking birds and into the
something strange happened to me. Something I had never felt
before, something quite odd and even confusing told me to take the
subway instead of flying as usual. So I did, feeling the weight of
fate more than anything.
fluorescently lit transit, I stood near the shadowy back, holding
onto the silver, glimmering pole. A rather obese, gruffly dressed
man sat taking up two seat spaces to the right of me occupying
himself with a newspaper. The alcoholic fragrance he emitted with
his breath was just lovely. Opposite of him, rested an older woman,
who appeared to be working dead-end jobs, her glossy eyes bagged
with purple rings. Beside her sat a dark-skinned young man, who
tapped his foot every third second while listening to MP3 player,
headphones plugged in his ears. Other than them, within this
section, it was empty.
wondered what in the world justified my reasoning in taking this
transit. While my mind churned over this, a golden-haired girl
strolled into the transit's still open door meekly, her head kept
slightly down. Quietly, she sat down two seats away from
beefy-necked middle-aged man, clasping her hands together.
eyes would have naturally flickered away from her, not giving her
another thought-but something caught my eye. As I looked more
closely to what sparkled in the bright lights, to what hung
half-hidden beneath her coated, dark blue shirt, my mouth fell
open. Baffled, I continued to stare, gawking really. I couldn't
All and any
further doubt I could have had against my purpose of taking this
MTA transit, immediately vanished, vindicated. It was all meant to
be. Our crossing of fates, like the paths of stars, we were.
But how did
this mortal girl have possession of this?
None of this
made any sense, beyond our fated appointment. My mind lost in
thought, I didn't notice the doors close. The transit began to
rumble with movement, my hold onto the pole troubled with
vibration. Then the subway transit began to move.
stops, all of the passengers within my section were gone, all the
seats empty-except for one, the girl's. How I wished I could sit
down next to her, and talk to her. But that was a fool's dream for
concentration had been intensely upon her for the entire ride. I
found her pale face quite intriguing, uniquely attractive. Of
course I had felt this human emotion before-attraction, amongst
throngs of girls before, but somehow this feeling was different.
There was richer nuance present now, than ever before, its smell
intoxicating. She kept her dark blue eyes stared straight ahead, a
conflicted thought lightening through her mind, I could tell
How I wished I
could read her thoughts. Something. But no spell could unveil
another's mind. That was "preposterous," or so my former master had
told me, when I first mentioned it long ago. How I wished it
What was it in
her eyes? Fear? Concern? Hurt? Pain? This was more difficult to
read, and that bothered me.
transit came to its next stop, I saw her finally shoulder her
purse, and stand from her seat. She departed from the public
transport through the opened doors.
sidewalks were still darkened damp, slick by the rainfall that had
only let up; the stagnant pools of water glimmered with the
reflections of the lamplight, and occasionally the flash of
headlights. The thick night air was deathly silent for New York,
only broken by her footsteps and the distant honking of
thought that invaded my brain while following behind her all this
way had been the same. She shouldn't be out this late, alone. It
was insanely dangerous around these drab parts.
rounded around a hole-in-the-wall pizza place, its neon green
sign blinking, I heard quickened running from behind. I halted my
movement, and turned around seeing nothing.
When I looked
by to the girl, I saw she had distanced herself further away.
Hasting my pace, the misty air clung against my face, and I felt my
heart begin to beat feverishly. Suddenly, I beheld barely a dark
figure drop from the sky and her scream of terror pierce the air.
Jolting into a sprint, I saw the blackly figure towering over the
girl, he had thwarted against the wall holding her throat at the
point of his-wand?
was dressed in a masking, sweeping long coat that nearly blended
the pitch darkness. I could see the girl petrified-frozen with
fear, and the figure split their attention from her and onto me:
their eyes luridly white, blazing with a haunting reminiscence.
Acting upon impulse, I extended my wand and shouted a disarming
spell. There was a loud crackle as a bright blue light was
afflicted from the tip of my wand and crashed into the chest of the
assailant, spinning him onto the ground, his wand flung from his
saw him raise his head giving me a last revengeful glare before
disappearing like smoke into the night. I approached her, she
gasped for breath, her chest heaving in and out. I saw the grimy
sweat collected upon her brow, the tears in her eyes-and I could do
nothing. She quickly grabbed up her bag, and flew from against the
wall, not giving a second look back.
With no other
bizarre interruption, I followed her to a house, which was
three-stories, narrow, and brick with dark hodge-podge shingling. I
didn't even have time to think about the sighting of that strange
figure with the glowing white eyes, fully concerted upon
house, it was warmly lit but most of all-dry. She threw off her
worn, dirty Converse sneakers at the door, where a thin, willowy
woman stood beyond, her hands impatiently resting against her
hips. Claire had this woman's long, golden hair, and their deep
blue eyes were also the same. She was her mother. They began to
converse why the girl I had followed-her name, Claire-was late.
She lied. She said she had forgotten her purse, and had to go
back and get it. I could without difficulty tell how keyed up
Claire was, for apparent enough reason.
She had been
heading home from her job at the local Starbucks, this I learned
too. After a few minutes of their talking, she half-ran through a
hall, its walls filled with family portraits. I continued to follow
her up their carpeted stairs and to what I guessed was her room,
the walls a faded canary yellow.
excitedly onto her bed, and grabbed a deep red-covered book-it was
a journal from her wooden nightstand. She curled her legs toward
her, and rested the journal's back against her jean-covered thighs.
Eagerly, she flipped open the cover, fluttered through the pages,
and creased back the cover, before writing with an uncovered pen
from the nightstand's drawer. She wrote intensely, her eyes
widened, her hand shaking.
for awhile, once flipping the page to continue, she stopped, and
slowly shut the book. Her eyes drifted and she stared straight
through me, her face contemplative. Even if I knew she wasn't
looking at me, it sent chills through my body. There was just
something about her…
her hands and lifted off what had so captivated my interest, lying
it upon her nightstand. She bit her lip, and slid off her
She strode to
her chest of drawers, opened one, and gathered clothes from
it-sweats and a tank top from the looks of it. From there, Claire
opened a white door and disappeared, closing it behind her.
Soon I heard a
shower door open and shut, and after the sound of water turned on,
falling. She wouldn't be out for awhile. First I gave her
nightstand a curious eye. A crooked smile slipped up my
was already in the room, wasn't I?
walked to her oaken nightstand, my eyes cast down upon what lay
below, shimmering in the light of the lamp. It was what I couldn't
believe a simple, mortal girl like her to possess-it was
was the Amulet of Vigoratus-the Amulet of Healing; it released any
Cursed from their Mark, its magical power unparallel. The Amulet
was considered mythical, something beyond recognition for even
those of the Magïe. But here it was in all of this strange, but
wondrous glory, the possession of this ordinary girl,
There was no
denying its authenticity. It bore every description of its legend:
the most pure of gold, ornately wrought, and distinguished with an
engraved V upon the Amulet, foliate in design.
There was no
reasoning in touching this myself, for it was said that if was
taken by force, its powers would be rendered void. It had to be
given through the willingness of the proprietor. But it was so
tempting. I looked away and to her brightly-colored bed. I
outstretched gradually a hand to her journal. Clasping hold of it,
I sat down, opening it up. I knew this nailed through ethical
morale, but my curiosity was more overbearing.
When I came to
today's date, I stopped, and my eyes scanned over the swiftly wrote
handwriting. Somehow I just knew she would write about what
happened to her not only a few moments ago, and how she was
inexplicably saved. I was incredibly surprised she hadn't told
anyone. But I had seen that her qualities screamed quite the
introvert, but there was nothing wrong with that.
could feel my heart begin to pound, its ring sting my ears. I was
actually considering on doing something that would went against all
I had been told. Revealing unto this girl the world of the Magïe.
The pledge was branded into my being: The Magïe existed in secrecy,
and in secrecy outside that of the Mortal knowledge, we stayed. It
was against the decree of the Seal to reveal our existence to
Mortal, but they were deceased? Or so I had thought until tonight,
with the sighting of that dark-coated figure, and those white
once thought was sure, wasn't sure anymore. And this frightened me.
I had made my decision.
reached for her pen, clicked it, and I wrote:
My name is Alec, and I am a wizard. I know this may be quite
difficult for you to believe, but I am a wizard. I do not lie to
you. I was the one who saved you. I hope sincerely this does not
frighten you. I would like to talk to you.\\
the sound of her bathroom door opening, I replaced the journal and
pen in their original positions. I stood form her bed, and as she
emerged dressed in her comfy pajamas, her damp hair pulled into a
ponytail. She gave her bed an odd look, and she walked toward it,
grabbing her journal. She opened the notebook, and scavenged
through its pages.
horrified gasp escaped her lips, and the book fell from her hands,
as she collapsed onto her bed. I saw her chest trembling, her blue
This was it.
Her following decision would craft both my fate and hers
After a moment
that seemed to last a lifetime of her only staring, she slowly
picked up the journal. Claire gave her pen an inquisitive glance,
before grasping it and writing a response.
she left the book opened onto the bed, and stood, stepping
leaving it for me? Of course she was.
strode to the bed, reclined, and as I lifted the book, I thought
her to scream. Claire covered her mouth with a trembling hand as I
believe I'm actually writing back to this. How do you even know my
name? This is…I can't even describe. How in the world is this
happening? First being assaulted by some guy with a…wand? None of
this makes any sense. Alright. I'll write back, even if this is all
crazy. I mean, who's here to see? Okay, Alec. Can you explain all
of this to me? Please.
took the pen and wrote:
will begin by answering your first question. I know your name
simply by listening to your Mother call you that precisely. I
wouldn't have known otherwise. And you're right this is all
bizarre, even to me. Now to answer your second question: this is
all happening simply because I am a wizard, and I am under a
terrible curse, and that you possess the legendary Amulet of
Vigoratus. It is very powerful, and because of that, I believe you
are being hunted, thus the attack upon you.
continued to exchange these writings to each other in this
procession late into the hours of the night. She wanted to know
more about my Curse, and I told her everything-how I was forever
cursed invisible, and how I had been framed for a murder I did not
This took her
by surprise. She inquired of how old I was because of my
immortality. I told her.
was unnerving, her eyes widened, her mouth falling partly agape. I
told her of how dangerous this actually was my disclosing of this
magical world unto her, as it was against the Seal. But I supposed
the Seal had been dissolved with the passing of the Dark Ages. And
too, there was one event that justified everything.
been assaulted by a Bearer of magic, a warlock perhaps. So my
telling her was irrelative really. I desired to know more of her,
and how she came across this Amulet. She first had said she didn't
know it was anything of the magical nature, although she knew, just
knew there was something intangibly different about it. Claire had
found it while over at her grandmother's in the attic, as they
helped her move, in a chest recently; and once she saw it, she
immediately asked if she could keep it for her own.
my mind into pensive thought. Perhaps she was a descendent of a
witch. That was plausible. I asked her about this, and she stated
she never knew of anything of the like. Peculiar. Then I desired to
know of her personal life, and at this point she nearly believed I
was within the room, sitting beside of her, entranced by her
beautiful eyes, the arousing smell of her perfume. Was this how it
felt with the beginnings of falling in love?
lived in New York all of her sixteen years, born to Jack and Tania
Allworth; Jack died thirteen years ago because of a sudden heart
attack. She barely had known him. My heart was broken for her, and
her mother. She said a day didn't pass when she didn't miss not
knowing him. And because of this she hardly let people come close
to her-that's why she said she considered an outcast, lonely.
we continued speaking through writing, something happened within
me. My heart burst into an unbridled joy I had never once
experienced in all my living. There was no feasible way to describe
this but as unexplainable. Was it love? It must have been. Did I
see her blush?
She made it
quite clear; she needed something to validate my existence.
Claire almost believed either herself gone insane or dreaming.
She needed justification, as we all did. Everyday.
I had an
entreated her to come to her window, open it, and I would do the
rest. Hesitantly, she approached the wind from the bed, as I
already stood there. She opened her window looking over the
shadowed front lawn, letting in the brisk breeze. She stepped back,
an unsure look upon her face, waiting on me.
wand, I thought the spell for flight and directed its tip to her. A
golden shower of light exploded and cast itself into her. In
complete disbelief, she gasped as her body began to glow with the
Her eyes shot
to the window, her brow rising; and then I saw it on her face. She
She gulped; I
could see she was very afraid. "You want me to fly with you don't
Even if she
couldn't see, I nodded.
"Okay, I trust
you Alec," she said, stepping forward and extending a hand. "I just
can't believe I'm doing this…This is all insane-"
her abruptly with grasp of my hand around hers, I pulled Claire to
the window. She didn't struggle the slightest, on the contrary
simply followed. At the window I heard her take in a deep breath,
and I passed through bounding into the air outside first. I drew
her from its sill and over with a final, ginger tug, and into the
night we went.
She cried out
in alarm, heaving, but when she saw that she remained within the
air hovering, instead of falling, Claire began to take control of
her rapid breathing. Then the excitement ignited within her
features, the simple awe of it all. Beyond my expectation she burst
into a gush of giggles, her face brightening beautifully. Her
personality was contagious, her laugh full of life. It imbued with
such passion I had never known before-of course I had fallen in
love before, obviously. But it was nothing as I experienced now.
How I just wished I could do the simplest of acts and just reach
out and touch her face. But I couldn't. Not the way I
quieted, still beaming, overwhelmed. "I'm ready," she
silent, crooked smile she couldn't see cracked my lips.
tauter upon her hand, I shot skyward the cool, misty air tingling
against our skin, the darkness cloaking around us. In a star's
blitz we flew from the rooftops of the surrounding neighborhood,
barreling in the clear, cloudless heavens, the moonlight
celestially soaking through us, and bathing the distant busy,
unthinking town below in a mystifying light. The wind rushed
through our hair, whipped our bodies coldly. Suddenly, I
floated upright, the glittering world below a dark doormat beneath
our feet; the lights of the towering skyscrapers and buildings
seemed more like seas of glimmering stars, out of reach. Deciding
quickly, I took us into a plummeting decent with no intention of
stopping. As we raced, spiraling downward, the wind battering us,
adrenaline firing our veins, Wallabout Bay came into sparkling
view. Just when I could have easily dove us into the deep, black
water; I stirred us swiftly against the surface, only her
reflection skimming the bay inches underneath. She reached out and
brushed delicately her forefinger into the water, and I mounted us
higher into the air, the starry night enveloping us.
weightless as a dove resting upon telephone wires of New York, I
placed her upon the window's sill. She climbed down through the
window and into her room; I followed her. Fully standing in her
room, I shut her window with a flick of my wand. The soft, breaking
light of dawn glinted against the glass, and my eyes sought for the
sun as always. I smiled seeing the rosy arms of the sunrise stretch
into the awakening world, their burning color blushing into crimson
closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air of the once open window,
and the traces of Claire's enticing perfume.
heard her say somewhere behind me, with a sincere voice. "That was
the most incredible time I had ever had in my entire life. I
believe you now, well, even if I can't see you. I truly do."
had spent all night together, flying. I couldn't describe how
wonderful it had been, with her especially.
"I'll get the
Amulet, so it can heal you," she continued softly.
turned around, and saw her get up from sitting on the bed, and
travel to her nightstand. She only stood there, baffled beyond
belief. Immediately, dictating something was severely wrong, I
strode to her side, and saw she clutched a torn piece of paper from
her journal with a trembling hand. Past her, I beheld where the
Amulet had once lain, it was empty, the Amulet simply gone. My
heart crumbled in idiotic regret and disbelief. My eyes instantly
went to the piece of paper she held so tremulously, my mind reeling
she said her voice shaking with a realized horror.
delicately took the ripped piece of paper and cast a wary sight
over it. Written upon it was the unmistakable Magical Ink that only
a wand could have fashioned. It was slanted, blotted cursive that
glittered in the light, but took away none of its grave deadliness,
for it read:
I have taken
two valuables from you Claire Allworth. One I care much for, the
other I care nothing of, but I'm quite sure you do. To retrieve
this valuable of yours look for a black car at three, for what it's
Worth. Don't be late.
Walking is a healthier choice.
finished reading, I looked up and our eyes met-even if she couldn't
see me-and through our stares, separated worlds apart in visual
sight conveyed the same unbelievable meaning. This thief had taken
not only the Amulet of Vigoratus, but also Claire's mother.
knew clearly what we had to do, but exactly how that would be done
with such a peculiar pair: a girl, whose history was more magical
than she had willed herself to believe, and I,a Cursed, invisible
wizard, well, that was another story.