Broken Doors

“Except vampires, of course,” said Jayson cheerfully.

“Blake… you can find out who and what you are now…” said Whist.

“I… I don’t know if I want to. What if I turn out to be some demon thing and start to have self-contempt?” asked Blake.

“Blake… this is the Holy Mirror, The Angel’s Mirror… you drew it. How did you know… it can’t be put to waste.”

“But if I’m not allowed to call angels, why can I use something that belongs to one, especially the Angel?”

“He has a point,” said Jayson. Whist looked everyone over, and then began to flick his hands around in the air. He continued his hand-dance, the air around them shimmering as he did. Soon enough, he’d woven a curtain of sapphire magic around him and Blake, blocking everyone else out. The curtain shimmered in the light, and Whist arched his hand over his head as if he was waving it. The top of the curtain curled over, making it pitch black in it.

Suddenly, there was a bright whitish-blue light that flared into existence in Whist’s palm. It cast his face in an eerie glow. The orb shot beams of light around, and they stabbed themselves into the walls of shimmering blue magic, illuminating everything brightly. “Wizard Light,” said Whist.

“What are you doing?” demanded Blake.

“They can’t hear us here,” said Whist. “I needed to talk to you… in private.” Blake said nothing. “I wanted to talk to you about your dreams.”

“What about them?” asked Blake.

“You were turned into a seraph by the Angel, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“So that means that you will become an angel—a seraph, in fact—assuming that you haven’t already become one,” said Whist.

“What do you mean? Wouldn’t I know?” asked Blake.

“You should. But that isn’t the point. You have no idea of your heritage. Your parents are dead as far as you know, you have no siblings, and you have no Folio Magi, either. How can you be sure that one of your parents wasn’t an angel?”

“I… I wouldn’t…”

“The Mirror can show you. Although it isn’t right that you look at it… do what you think is right…” said Whist. He doused the Wizard Light by closing his palm, and the whole place when dark, the only light being the faint glow of the blue gossamer threads that were woven into a sparkling curtain of magical power. There was a sound, like a snap, and the whole curtain flickered and vanished.

Blake found himself staring at Steph, Spencer and Jayson, who were all regarding them with awe. “Still not used to the whole magic thing,” said Spencer.

“You’ll never be with Whist. He comes up with these really cool spells and things that are so weird and cool,” said Jayson. “One time, he made this dome of electricity around his car and surrounded that with these threads of magic or something so that no one would steal anything.” Merlock smiled from one of the chairs.

“Uh… I think I’m feeling a little hungry,” said Blake. He started to walk, and something fell out of his pocket: the spell book from the City of Magic. He picked it up, and looked around his room. He went over to a corner of his room, and said, “Appareo!

Two spell books materialized, and Blake gathered them in his arms. “Whist?” he said.

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” he replied. Blake led him out of the room, and up a flight of stairs. He walked over to the study door, and focused. He felt the angelic knowledge rune burning, and he pictured a rune in his head. It was simple. Two vertical tildes with two extra lines curling away from them. He took out his signum and drew it on the door quickly. The doorknob shook, but the door didn’t open. Blake closed his eyes again and pictured an Opening rune behind his eyelids, allowing his power to flow through his fingertips and into the signum, which moved freely. When he knew he was done, he opened his eyes. There were fancy lines decorating the door: curling, intersecting, spiraling, inky lines. He touched the door, and the lines glowed brightly. The whole door shook, and it imploded, sending wood splinters cascading into the room.

Blake turned and looked at Whist, who was as shaken as he was. They stepped inside and Whist turned to the door. He uttered a single word, and a violet glow began to emanate from the pile of wooden splinters. They lifted into the air and rearranged themselves into a door. When he was done, Whist turned around, and his mouth dropped. He looked around, and Blake walked over to a section of books that said in spidery handwriting: Angelus. Before, he wouldn’t have known what that meant, but now…

He went into the aisle and looked around. There must have been hundreds of books there. Blake felt a sudden compulsion drive him to one of the paintings. It was a picture of the Angel pointing a glowing sword at the neck of a creature that was half angel and half demon. He felt his hand moving up, and he drew a quick rune below the painting. It glowed brightly, and Blake sensed Whist behind him. The wall shimmered, and the painting shook. Blake caught it in one hand just as it fell from the wall and laid it down on the floor. He went back to the wall, and saw that there was now a stone doorway. Blake trudged through it, and looked down at the darkness that enveloped the stairs below him. Whist tried to follow him, but smacked into a wall of force that was in the doorway. ‘Go’ he mouthed.

Blake walked down the stairs hesitantly, and suddenly there was a bright bluish-white glow behind him. The light was in shape of a winged orb. Wizard Light. Blake saw Whist on the other side of the force field moving his hands around; navigating the orb. The orb moved down the stairs, slicing through the darkness with its brilliant beams of radiance lighting the way. Blake followed it down, afraid to see something he might regret. He descended the stairs, and saw that there were unlit torches on the walls. Blake continued down the stairs, feeling the air getting damper as he walked farther. He finally reached the bottom step, but he couldn’t see the light. He stepped out…

And fell.

The End

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