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A man who is caught in a downward spiral of corruption, and is raised out of it into a hero, who dies to save a people who shall never know of his sacrifice.
The stranger's green eyes opened again.
Jewel ventured to speak, realizing that the spell on him, which was already wearing off, if not almost worn off, allowed him that leisure.
"Why did you do this?" he said in a deep voice, letting the stranger hold his eye contact.
"I do not think you would understand," the other said softly. He let his eyes fall closed again.
"What?" Jewel said, his voice still deep. "You think you are a strong enough mage to fight me? Your spell is nothing, I have lost no strength, and you have lost much."
A sorrowful smile graced the stranger's parched lips. Jewel had not till now noticed that the man's lips were stained purple from tiny cracks of dried blood.
"I have not only fought you, I have defeated you," the other mage said, in a grave voice, lifting his chin in weak defiance.
"Defeated me?" Jewel asked in mockery, his brows rising. "What spell have you put on me that I am defeated?"
A story of blood magic, both of deep evil and abomination, and of heroic sacrifice and selfless love.
When Jewel is at last broken beyond all hope, when his power is ripped so fully from his hands, that he fears he has lost not only his power, but himself, he discovers at last that he can still be the Jewel he was before he was broken, before corruption stole his life away. For not until he is broken can he be Unbroken.
The stranger's green eyes opened again.
Jewel ventured to speak, realizing that the spell on him, which was already wearing off, if not almost worn off, allowed him that leisure.
"Why did you do this?" he said in a deep voice, letting the stranger hold his eye contact.
"I do not think you would understand," the other said softly. He let his eyes fall closed again.
"What?" Jewel said, his voice still deep. "You think you are a strong enough mage to fight me? Your spell is nothing, I have lost no strength, and you have lost much."
A sorrowful smile graced the stranger's parched lips. Jewel had not till now noticed that the man's lips were stained purple from tiny cracks of dried blood.
"I have not only fought you, I have defeated you," the other mage said, in a grave voice, lifting his chin in weak defiance.
"Defeated me?" Jewel asked in mockery, his brows rising. "What spell have you put on me that I am defeated?"
A story of blood magic, both of deep evil and abomination, and of heroic sacrifice and selfless love.
When Jewel is at last broken beyond all hope, when his power is ripped so fully from his hands, that he fears he has lost not only his power, but himself, he discovers at last that he can still be the Jewel he was before he was broken, before corruption stole his life away. For not until he is broken can he be Unbroken.
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