Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 06:56:03 +0100
From: Enchanting Enchanter <enchantingenchantor@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter 16

OFFICIAL NOTICE: I will be uploading the last few chapters probably on a
weekly basis (If you want to be technical, I like to upload on either
Weekends (Saturday or Sunday) or on days like today (Wednesday) where it's
the middle of the week and I'm bored), so check whenever you've got the
time if you want to see the newest chapter. Because I plan on ending this
story on the 20th Chapter, there are now only three chapters after this one
left. Please enjoy.

COUNTDOWN: PLEASE NOTE, THIS STORY WILL DISINTEGRATE IN THREE CHAPTERS!
I.E. I PLAN ON ENDING THE ENCHANTER'S STORYBOOK ON THE 20th CHAPTER
FOREVER, DONE GONE, FINISHED, NO MORE. THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT, BUT I FEEL
LIKE IT'S FINALLY TIME TO END IT. WHAT I'M NOT SURE OF IS ENDING IT ON A
GOOD NOTE OR... ;)

Here are the rules to reading my story:

1: No under-aged kiddies, sexually confused, openly gay, or whatever kinds
of people here. Either you're of an appropriate age or get out. But, just
between us, I can't and won't stop you.

2: If you're lawfully restrained from reading gay literature then don't
read it, but, again, I won't stop you. It's clearly your country's fault
(Hi Russia, Hi Uganda, etc) for being so closed-minded. We are, after all,
in a post-modern world, I can't stop you, but I have warned you.

3: Read the previous chapters if you want to understand the story.

4: Donate to Nifty if you enjoyed this story.

5: Break the rules if you want, kids. I myself am a nonconformist (not a
religious nonconformist, ew) and do so myself.

6: EMAIL ME AT THE FOLLOWING: ENCHANTINGENCHANTOR[AT]HOTMAIL[DOT]COM THIS
EXACT SPELLING PLEASE LOOK AT IT BECAUSE THE SPELLING IS VERY IMPORTANT,
ENCHANTOR NOT ENCHANTER, IDK, IF YOU WANT TO COMMENT THEN DO IT
THERE. THANKS BITCHES. BYE BITCHES.

The Enchanter's Storybook: Chapter 16

Ever since he was a child, Marcus was told that he was special. His mum
used to call him her "special little boy," but even he wasn't stupid enough
to translate her lies into the truth. What she really meant was that he was
weaker than the other children, and everyone in the Rocky Pass treated him
like he was a fragile porcelain doll that could smash and crack if not
treated with the utmost care.

His father, obviously, did not take too well to a son that was
weak. Weakness was despised by mankind, even though their own weakness
caused the downfall of their almighty empire a thousand years ago. Yet even
so, his father hated it. His father hated that his son was more like his
mother, blond of hair and blue of eyes, instead of hair as black as coal
and eyes just the same. He hated how skinny his child was, how frail and
pale he was, how he lacked strength and brutality.

His father died before he could show him his true power. Marcus was not a
frail child any longer, he was so much more. He was powerful, more powerful
than any witch, fairy, troll. He was mankind, in it's truest, rarest and
darkest form. And at his small, delicate core lay an immortal soul, a heart
as black as tar, and the gift of love.

The one person in his world that could sense this power was his
grandmother, Granny Elisai. She'd pick him up and sit him on her lap, hand
him a soft sweet, and read him stories of brave men, of princes and
princesses, fairytales and folklore. And every time she finished telling
him these stories, she would say, "But you, my boy, are s much better than
these princes and knights. You mayn't have strength, or bravery, or
glory. But you do have courage. And, more than that, you have
intelligence. You know not to pick fights for a stupid girl, you know when
to stop, you are the most intelligent boy in the Pass."

And, for a while, he believed her. But he had always known he was not
special, at least not in the way everyone meant. He was special in his own
way. He was not just a boy, he was Marcus Mallow, the giver of immortality,
castrator of trolls, bringer of death. He was the deepest, darkest pit of
power in the world. But even then, that gift was a curse.

As he stood, his lips pressed gently against Darius', feeling his
hard,strong arms wrapped delicately around him, he could feel himself
dissipating. The world turned dark around him, black as night. He kept
thinking "It's always darkest before the dawn," but no matter how hard he
said it, the darkness kept on coming and coming, flooding into
him. Something inside snapped and twitched, his head fell back, and he grew
cold inside. As cold as ice. His entire body shuddered, his soul screamed
in his skin, but even he could tell by that point that he was no longer
himself.

As his eyes snapped open, the world around him was dry and disgusting. He
flew into the air, the very centre of the room, and outstretched his
hands. He called for the darkness to come, and it did. He wanted it to
come, he wanted it to fill the room and kill them all. He actually wanted
them dead, each and every person here. He wanted to see them empty of
blood, empty of breath, emotionless, dead inside and out, pale and decaying
like curdled milk.

The smoke all around him attacked upon his command, and a sudden jolt
within him sent his head lolling back, spewing black, vile fire. It shot
form his fingertips, lashing out and searing through skin and flesh,
killing, murdering, emptying. He knew what he was doing the entire time.

He wanted this. Better than that, he made it happen.

Killing, killing everything that ran and fled. One look at the bare, wooden
door and it slammed shut, and his eyes fell on those closest to it. Three
living souls, two pure innocents among them. A woman, hair as red as fire,
he faintly remembered her face. Another, sweet-looking and tense, with a
slither of his own darkness within her. But in their arms, they carried
him.

The boy he knew. Aiming his hand at them, preparing to fire, he
released. But inside, his soul screamed and tore and thrashed. He
struggled, he shuddered, and slowly, the darkness fled. The coal-like smoke
vanished, and all the fire died away. He looked down at the three of them,
at a loss for words, until it all seeped from him.

The last thing he felt was his body snap as he hit the floor.

Pale, was his face, and pallid was his skin. Not a single breath broke
between his young, lifeless lips. His eyes closed, he looked heavenly
silent, like an angel, although ironically in death.

His body lay cold against the floor of what remained of the throne
room. Shattered glass, crumbling walls, and scattered bodies. Daisy had
seen and expected as much from one so powerful as Marcus. The magic that
dwelt within him was not like witch magic, mudmagic, or the noble magique
of the fairies. His magic was something new to this world. She should know.

Ever since she had been kidnapped by trolls when wandering outside of the
Rocky Pass, she had learnt things. Mankind were evolving, and Marcus was
the epitome of man's recent evolution. She too had the gift of darkness,
though it hardly compared to his.

Of the slim few survivors, none quite knew what had happened, but most were
terrified of what was to come. The most well-fortified palace in the entire
world had been breached, the entire North Wing had collapsed, including the
throne room, and the entire castle was under threat of collapsing in on
itself. Rumours would soon spread of the breach in Purgador, the most
well-guarded city. The Walls of the Whispering Winds would be seen as
breakable, the city itself would no longer be impregnable.

Not only had Marcus caused a ripple effect for witchkind, he has proven
within seconds that witchkind were not unstoppable. Their enemies would
flock. Rumour would spread that a boy, a teenage boy, had caused the death
of not one, but two of the Witch Queens. Only Queen Violet remained,
soft-voiced and blinded. In a single day, the Seven Wonders became five,
the most well-guarded walls in the world had been breached, the impregnable
city had been impregnated, and the untouchable palace was in ruin. All by
one fourteen year old boy.

He may have single-handedly sparked the first World War since the fall of
mankind,a thousand years ago. Ever since then, the Witchlands had risen as
the single superpower in the known world, with no enemies powerful or
stupid enough to contest with them. What had happened today had outlined
the falsities of the Witchlands. Sooner or later, the power of the witches
will be challenged. By the trolls of Trollsturf, the elves of Elvenholm,
the fairies of the Feyrie, it did not matter.

War was coming.

"He is dead." Those words, bitter and dry and empty, were the only ones
Daisy could remember. Over and over again, they flew through her head
repeatedly. The physician had grabbed his wrist and found no pulse, had
tried to listen to a breath that was not there, and had tried to galvanise
him back to life. None of it brought colour back to his cheeks or breath to
escape his lips, none of it gave him the kiss of life, but only brought
forth the certainty of death.

Darius collapsed, sobbing. Varia tried to comfort him, but the poor boy was
so numb that the world was nothing to him. They had resigned earlier, and
Daisy knew she should leave them in peace. After all, she was barely an
acquaintance, more of a stranger to these people. She shouldn't interrupt
them in their grief. She wouldn't.

So she had forced herself to stay. The throne room was moderately safe as
the ceiling had shattered and the walls had collapsed entirely, leaving it
enclosed in what remained of the rest of the shattering North Wing. The
bodies were registered and were one-by-one hauled off to be returned to
their loved ones, those unclaimed being thrown in a mass grave. No one but
Daisy dared to near his body after the physician, but she knew better than
to leave him alone.

Wasn't he supposed to be immortal? She cursed herself, but clenched his
cold hand nonetheless, praying for him to return. What had happened was not
under his control, and the last surviving Witch Queen, Violet, had even
declared it an accident, a consummation of power. Their loving embrace had
flared the dark within him and spat it out, and killed him.

Or maybe he was sleeping. He was immortal, after all?

Like a god. In a way, she thought he was a god, though she would never
admit to it.In the Rocky Pass, his kind was despised. Those who admire
those of the same sex in more than a friendly way. She knew from the day
she spotted the two of them playing outside of Marcus's house, a few days
before she was kidnapped. It was the way that they looked at each other
that made her see it. The adoration in Marcus's eyes, the desire that hid
beneath the brown of Darius's brooding orbs.

Besides, who else but the gods could give immortal life, who else but the
gods could break the very laws of nature and show a fondness for the same
sex, who else but the gods could possess such bare power, who else but the
gods could survive something like this?

If he was a god, he would wake. He had to wake.

"Please, Marcus," she said, taking her other hand and holding it against
his cold, hard chest. She was, whether she liked it or not, admiring a
corpse. He was dead. Nothing could change the matters of life and
death. Life was finite, death was infinite, it was indefinite and obscure,
but it was final. The finality of death was what made it so terrifyingly
unbearable, after all.

So she rose gently,and, leaning forward, she gentle kissed him on his cold,
hard cheek, and turned to leave. But the grip on her hand tightened, and
her heart was in her hands as she turned to see. Pale skin, light ash-blond
hair, and icy pale blue eyes that fluttered open.

"You... You're alive."

He looked at her with an odd expression, an expression of loss and
confusion, empty. Her eyes widened as she realised, as she felt it within
him just by holding his hand. Her own weak darkness could feel the
immensity of his own with a single graze of their hands. But, something
else...

"You aren't," he croaked, his voice changed. It was deep and foul,
throat-tearing and harsh to the ears. His eyes, a much paler shade of blue
that they skimmed on white, glinted with disgust. She knew immediately that
it was not him, but his grip tightened around her wrist.

Turning, she tried to run, to leave, but he pushed her forward with an
inner force, magnetic, like an alpha calling to his beta. She could feel
his influence over her, and knew he could not be stopped. Sitting on his
knees, he pulled.

Pulling forward, his free hand rested on her chest. She screamed as it
slowly, painfully heated. His entire arm became red like roasting metal,
and so hot that they were white. His palm melted into her chest, grasping
at her heart. Immediately, it melted in his hands. Her lifeless body
collapsed onto his arm.

Quickly, he pulled her off like she was nothing and tossed her corpse to
the ground, heartless, blood sputtering wildly from the hole in her
chest. Etched forever onto her face was her scream, her shock and distrust
and fear. Yes. What was so terrifying about death was the finality of being
welcomed into eternal, never-ending, complete and utter darkness. Marcus
knew that was what awaited her.

For him, life eternal.

"Darius," he cursed, standing off of his knees and slowly gliding towards
the door.

!YOU HAVE TO READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTES IF YOU WANT SPOILERS FOR THE NEXT
CHAPTER!

*Snaps The Enchanter's Storybook to a close, folding it in half, and in
half, and in half, before continuing to eat it, whereupon it will be
digested through my enchanting body and you shall receive it in maybe
three, possible two days, if I eat enough fibre*

I don't really have anything cute or witty to say here, so maybe I'll do a
next time. Next time, FAIRIES YAY FAIRES OOOOOOO WHATEVZ JUST FAIRIES CALM
DOWN MATE. Did you like what you read? DON'T JUST STOP READING WHEN THE
STORY IS OVER BECAUSE I SOMETIMES GIVE AWAY SPOILERS IN MY AUTHOR'S NOTE!
Next time, I'm bringing in my very first, and probably last FAIRY! Oh, and
I've kept it a secret, but yes, elves AND orcs too. The main major nations
in my world are (in order of most powerful):

1: the Witchlands

2: The Feyrie, also known as the Fairylands

3: Elvenholm

4: Orkovsk (kingdom of orcs. I like to think of them as more upper-class,
better-looking trolls with more money, magic, and generally just all around
the next-step-up from trolls)

5: Trollsturf

But then you need to remember than the Empire of Mankind was once on top of
this list, alongside the lands of the giants and dragons, which are all
ALLEGEDLY extinct.

ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS LITTLE HISTORY AND FACTS LESSON ON MY
FICTITIOUS WORLD OF MAGICAL BULLSHIT, STOP BY NEXT TIME, MY SWEET POPPETS,
YOURS ENCHANTINGLY

THE FUCKING ENCHANTOR, NOW GTFO (just kidding love you all kbai)