The Prince had him start at midnight, since that was technically when the day began, magically and pedantically speaking. Within the clock tower, and starting in the shitty basement one of the creatures had carved out for them after they’d decided to use it as a staging ground. This was going to be an exhausting night, he knew, as he began to grab the various materials from the toolkit he’d repurposed from his dad’s storage shed. Chalk was a good starter, as were the charcoal sticks that he’d never really bothered to use. The more abstract materials were next. Certain flowers and herbs, and a few animal pelts in pristine conditions. A pair of nice looking quartz crystals, a miniature orrery, and a goblin’s hand. He sorted each out in silence, as he got himself organized. As long as he had begun the process, mentally, by the time midnight ticked by, the Prince said it didn’t matter. When doing magic, intent mattered much more then the exact nature of action. It had always seemed a bit odd to Marcel that it wasn’t a science, but there was a lot of forces around this that he never quite understood.
He drew out the larger circle first, one half white, one half black, then turned his attention inwards, blending the chalk and charcoal for a partial shade of grey for each of the symbols within. It spanned nearly the entire room, as he stayed laser focused on this one task, until his hand started to cramp, and his cloths were covered in the remains of his two drawing implements. But he wasn’t quite done from there. Each of the other pieces had to go in their places, arranged in the ways that he was told were most evocative, most effective. This sort of magic was far beyond him, and the few paltry tricks the Prince had taught him-the basics really. That said, he was more then willing to follow instructions. Especially for this.
Everything was placed. He did a few more adjustments. Turning some things closer to others, pointing others towards the center or towards the wall, being very careful to not smudge the circle that he had crafted as he did. Once he was finally satisfied, he took a step back to the staircase, and reached into the toolkit for the last time. A knife in his hand, he took a deep breath, then inflicted a small cut onto the palm of his hand.
No blood came out. Instead, as he focused intently on the wound and what he wanted to manifest from it, dribbling inky black semisolid ooze poured forth, only a small amount. He flicked his hand, with both finesse and a bit of luck, and the glob of his shadow landed squarely in the center of the circle, in the trapezoid that laid drawn there. Sucking in a breath, he focused and shut his eyes. When he opened them, the wound on his hand was gone.
Turning his attention back to the circle, he spoke aloud.
“From my shadow, the extension of me, I start the rite. The Chimera Prince will speak the rest, as I am merely an extension of him, as the shadow is to me.”
The room thrummed with power, thrummed with magic that he could feel, down to his very bones. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling. Sucking in a breath, he quickly retreated back up the ramshackle stairs, toolkit under his arm. But he didn’t stop once he exited the hidden passage that was at the bottom floor of the clock tower. He continued to ascend, all the way to the peak of it, where the broken mechanism and unmoving hands laid, lit via ghostly lights which appeared to be drifting about the ceiling, throwing silver light down and across the chamber. He saw three expected faces, one unexpected.
The unexpected face, he first thought was a woman, but he began to second guess himself as he saw their more androgynous shape in the light. They wore an oversized baggy hoodie with some words in a language he didn’t know on it, and what might be the symbol for something. Somehow, this individual had the capacity to wear shorts that exposed almost their entire thigh, even in sub zero weather. It wasn’t that much warmer in the clock tower. This of course, exposed alabaster pale skin, a pair of practically glittering golden eyes, and short cut platinum blonde hair. They were currently leaning up against the glass, a toothless smirk on their face. They didn’t really regard Marcel, even as he eyed them with suspicion.
The two expected, but less important faces were where his eyes went next. The first, a well dressed man in a crimson red suit, with well tanned skin, and dark eyes. He had black hair, and a finely tended to beard of the same color, and a thin smile on his face. The main drawing feature of him, however, was a wound that crossed his head-the left side of it looking like something had tried to burst free of it from within, a network of scars and once broken bone and tissue spreading from hair to upper face and eye. Marcel knew this man to be named Dirk…something. He was some fancy lawyer, or so Marcel was told. Just not an ordinary one.
The second, a lean looking woman with skin almost as pale and white as the new figure, was dressed almost as well as Dirk, but was visible prepared for the weather. She had long, curly brown hair that was immaculately done, and the only odd thing about her was the set of crimson eyes which set her apart instantly. It gave away her curse rather easily, in Marcel’s opinion, but she didn’t spend much time amongst people. Or so he hoped. He knew that her name was Elvina, and that according to the Prince, this wasn’t her true shape. He didn’t know what her true shape looked like.
Finally, the person he’d come here looking for. The Chimera Prince was a somewhat massive figure. Scraping ten feet in height, calling this creature ‘him’ felt slightly wrong, yet it was what he had asked to have ascribed. Large, bulky form, with long limbs that had just as much bulk on them, each joint, and limb seeming reinforced by tree bark, sturdy and moss ridden. Slender and sharp fingers, seven on each hand, articulate with shocking precision to look at the golden pocketwatch in his hand. His legs were similar, except that rather then proper feet, the Prince had a mix of razor sharp talons and hooves, the former in the back as a stabilizing factor. Despite the bulk of flesh attached, Marcel had seen that the Prince could kick with quite some force. His torso was split down the middle, male and female features running down both sides, mostly exposed were it not for the Prince’s long, and flowing hair, and spotted chunks of tree bark, reptilian (or draconian) scales, and smooth stone. The Prince didn’t really wear cloths. His face was that of unearthly beauty, yet it changed every time it was looked upon. The consistent features were that he always bore three eyes, and the third was always dark and clouded. Wreathing his head and massive mane of hair, was a crown made from twisted antlers that sprouted from his head, knotting and twisting together and also jutting outwards. His soft, golden skin, mostly hidden beneath other features, shone through in places brilliantly.
The Prince looked to Marcel and a smile formed on his face.
“Marcel. I feel that the ritual is in place. You’ve done well.”
Marcel gave a simple nod of his head.
“We have prepared for a long time to make this come to pass.” The Prince said, looking between each person there. Dirk gave a respectful nod, Elvina smiled softly, and the stranger just kinda shrugged. “Now all that comes now is to defend what we have made for ourselves here. I have gathered all of my subjects to this world, and now we await to see what the faerie, and those beyond think of what we have begun, should they see fit to notice at all.”
Dirk cleared his throat.
“I have already ensured that my realms of expertise will not be interfering, as per our contract. I will be spending the next twenty four hours ensuring any threats intrinsic to the Well do not interfere in your operations here, also as per our contract.”
The Chimera Prince, despite this being a callous and cold, all business response, smiled warmly at the lawyer.
“Thank you Mr. Baul. Your expertise has been well appreciated. You and yours will be well compensated. Now…”
The Prince turned towards those without the initiative to state their purpose. Elvina first.
“Miss Ianov. You will patrol the streets. Your talents make you well suited for such a thing. Should you encounter trouble, inform me, then deal with it, any way you see fit.”
“…Even using…?” She began, the Prince simply nodding.
“Even utilizing that, should it come to it. I will mend the consequences. I always do.”
The vampire simply smiled in return.
After her, the Prince’s eyes settled on the stranger.
“Tressp-” He began, but this time, he was cut off. Their voice had a distinct accent. American?
“Tres.”
The Prince paused, and simply nodded.
“Tres. I have called you here for use of your abilities. I would like you to have this.”
He outstretched a spindly hand. The pocketwatch he held between his fingers a moment ago was gone, and in it’s place was a compass of the same metal make, glittering in the floating silver lights.
“This will point you to the greatest threat to yourself, within the limits of my demesne. All I ask, in return for this gift, is that you use your talents to deal with whomever it points to, for the next twenty four hours. In exchange, you will have the gift I promised.”
They scoffed, and spoke rapid fire in another language. Sounded American, wasn’t English.
The Prince spoke calmly in return. Marcel knew there was magic in play, that made the Prince understood by all he spoke to. So he understood what the Prince said in return to this…Tres, just fine.
“Yes, as we agreed.”
Marcel blinked, and the stranger was gone. The Prince looked to Dirk and Elvina.
“You two may go. I wish to have a private word with young Marcel. Go forth, for liberation.”
Dirk walked out. Elvina transformed into mist, and slipped out of an ajar tile in the roof.
Once the footsteps of the lawyer had long since faded out of the clock tower’s area, the Prince finally turned his full attention to Marcel. He couldn’t help but be intimidated. Even if he’d been in this situation before.
“Marcel. You’ve done remarkably well, thus far. I have nothing but praise for your efforts, both tonight, and for the past five years.”
Marcel smiled.
“You’ve been…good to me. The least I can do is help you in return.” Marcel said, with a shake of his head.
“Even so. When I first aided you, five years ago, I had never expected just how instrumental you would be to my final accounting. I knew such raw potential existed, of course, but I had never expected to find it so close within reach.”
Five years ago, when Marcel had stumbled into a gathering not unlike the one happening down below. When he was supposedly to be kidnapped by some distant power, or otherwise sold to one. And instead, he found himself saved, by the power of the Chimera Prince. He been asked to repay the favor. And yet, five years later, he was still here. It was funny how that had all turned out.
“I’m honored you think so.” Marcel said, still smiling. “I appreciate the tutelage you’ve given me. It’ll serve me well, when this is all said and done.”
For a moment, an expression that wasn’t a smile curved across the Prince’s face. Something perhaps contemplative, or otherwise introspective. But, like he had imagined it, the smile returned a moment later.
“That it will. And we’ll only see it honed to a finer point in this new paradigm. How is your shadow doing? You didn’t strain it too far, I hope?” A smidgen of concern filled the Prince’s voice, at that question. Marcel quickly shook his head.
“Most of it will come back soon. I had to use a bit of the central area. I didn’t think anything else would work for sure. But all of the edges that I used will regrow. Of that I’m sure.”
He used his shadow for magic often, it was a good focus. He was lucky enough to be able to at all-apparently it was a rare gift. Most people needed to use blood, or something else, if they wanted to be able to do the sort of visceral craft that he did. Granted, he did often harvest his shadow like someone would harvest blood…but the wounds never really stuck.
“Good. You have much of your life left-I wouldn’t want you to burn through anything you can’t get back. Not so soon, at least. This was a worthy cause. But there are some things that simply will not be worthy of your rites.”
Marcel took that in. He’d already understood that, but it felt different to have the Prince confirm something he’d presumed. And it was also good that the Prince seemed to care for him.
“I’ll try to avoid it. I’ve used very little of those parts. I haven’t needed to. Mostly thanks to your protection.”
The Prince smiled with literal warmth-Marcel felt as if he’d been exposed to the sun for a moment. Before continuing to speak.
“And if all goes well, you will never need to. But enough speculation and reminiscing. We have just under twenty four human hours before the ritual concludes. I will need to remain here, to begin reshaping things, and to ensure that what you have created does not go to waste. That does leave the question of you, however.”
The Chimera Prince seemed to visibly ponder.
“Tell me, Marcel. Do you think of yourself as a capable leader?”
Marcel was taken aback slightly, but he shrugged his shoulders.
“…Maybe? I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” Marcel’s voice was steeped in unease.
“I am very dedicated to ensuring this does not go wrong, and this new paradigm is shaped to perfection. As such, I will find myself unable to leave this tower, until midnight tonight. I will briefly address my subjects when we are done speaking here, but after that, it will be up to those beneath me to ensure we complete this plan. And this is what I would ask you to do. Should any problems arise, I would like to leave you as my…replacement. Guide them, and keep this magic safe.”
There was a hefty silence, as Marcel’s eyes widened at the advent of that particular news, that proposition. He didn’t feel comfortable speaking, until he realized that the Prince was waiting for him to do so.
“That’s…that’s an honor of you to ask.” He began. “If you think I am up to the task, then I will carry it out in the very best way I can. If it will take a burden off your shoulders, that is.” He clarified, to avoid sounding potentially power hungry. If the Chimera Prince got that impression from him, however, his own expression didn’t change. He put a hand on Marcel’s shoulder. By the proportions of his body, it should have a heavier weight as it rested there, but it felt lighter then air. Strangely soft and warm, at that. As if every inch of his body was determined to defy expectations.
“Marcel, there is no one I would trust more with this. Especially on a night as important to you and I as this is. We have come too far to not trust each other now.”
That sentiment made Marcel’s heart soar, and he nodded.
“Now, you should head down into the crowd. Stand near to the front…I’ll announce this verdict soon enough.”
“Yes, Prince. Thank you, again.”
And with a final half bow to the Chimera Prince, Marcel slipped back down the stairs of the clock tower, feeling lighter than air, on top of the world.
Not only was the world going to change forever, after tonight, but Marcel was trusted enough to stand near to the top of it. All he had to do now, was not screw it up. How hard could that really be?
He descended the rickety stairs of the clock tower at what was likely an unsafe speed, and reached the ground floor quickly, heading for the door and bursting out into the cold night, snow softly drifting down from the sky all around the clock tower. There was more then a small crowd, gathered outside in the cold night. And this crowd was far from human. As more of the corporal entities ran or walked down the streets, less corporal ones manifested in the air, appearing as strange banners or kites, drifting through the sky. Then there were those not manifested at all, simply appearing as sensations haunting the edges of ones senses, if they wanted to be known.
Such as the nature of faerie.
Some of them had the leave to cross here and even stay. Some could show themselves while not truly leaving. And some simply manifested an itch, or a prick. Or a feeling of being watched.
It was for all of these types that the Chimera Prince did what he did. And why they were all here. Marcel immersed into the crowd of fey, of all shapes and sizes. Goblins, satyrs, witches, all sorts of beings from all sorts of places. Most had come from this region, but some made a long pilgrimage to the haven that the Chimera Prince offered. Marcel found that sort of fusion of states to be beautiful. And wished the rest of the world was like that too.
It wasn’t.
Marcel settled to a spot close to the tower proper, where a few of the tougher looking creatures stood, watching, not quite guarding, but acting as imposing presences. And then Marcel waited.
It wasn’t long before he made himself known again. The Chimera Prince unfurled his wings, giant, avian, and beautiful, made of large spread colors and shapes which almost seemed partially reflective in the snow and the moon. He took off from the roof of the clock tower, and hovered over his subjects, Marcel and everyone else looking upwards. Many worlds looked upon him, in that moment, as he began to speak. He couldn’t see the Prince’s face, but Marcel liked to imagine that he was smiling.
“My subjects! Faerie, Fair Folk, and all between! It is my distinct and humble honor to fly here tonight, as your Prince, and as your symbol. I, and all that makes up myself, feels a great pride in what we have built here, and knows that whatever comes next will surely carry that success fowards and onwards!”
He gave a pause for inflection, and to spread his giant arms, as if he were ensnaring the crowd in a warm and caring embrace.
“It has been said to me many times, by many a man who has come for me, or one who makes up me, that magic is a thing of the past. That those of magic ought to be left in the past, along with other ‘fairy tales’. They say this, armed and nestled amongst what they view to be so much more tangible, so much more real. And yet, we are just as much of a creation of man as their cars, their firearms, and their lights in the dark. And they too, are no less magical then we are. Magic is simply an expression of the world, and we will no longer be shunned for falling outside of a paradigm we hold no weight in!”
There was a rousing cheer which came up from the crowd. A cacophony and blending of sounds and sensations, as even those worlds away chimed in to make their pleasure known.
“But it not only hapless humanity which we defy, in our gestures today! We defy our own, the worst of us, who attempt to snuff us out or subjugate us! Divines who have cheated death, who claimed our power and then turned on us with it! I will not speak their names, as they do not deserve such an honor, given from those of our nature. But we intend to prove that we do not need guile, we do not need deceit, in order to have staying power on this world! We need not steal children from their cradles, we need not cut deals wearing man’s skin, and we need not steer them astray! We will exist, all the same!”
There was a bit of a somber tint to the crowd, and the sensations that came with them, when the enemy was mentioned. Marcel had been lucky enough to never cross paths with Olympia more then once. Most in this crowd hadn’t been. It was why the Chimera Prince was so enticing, everything else aside. And yet, the energy returned with the Prince’s optimism, his oration cast down upon everyone like a warm blanket.
“Because why must we carve out terror, carve out fear, in order to keep ourselves alive? Why must we scavenge for scraps, while powerful men, and powerful entities, reign on the virtue of those beneath them? Why can we not take what we are due, and simply live our lives, however we wish to? We have been forced to accept idle tyranny, in the nature of the world’s supposedly fundamental rules. I say…no more!”
The Chimera Prince shouted, and the magic that Marcel had set up responded in kind. Forming around his outstretched arms, the dreamstuff, the glamour, the chaos, it all responded to him. Marcel could swear he saw a familiar swirl of shadow somewhere within those confines.
The world began to change. The world began to shift. Where once was a clock tower, there was instead a mythical fortress, a spire of gold and silver which wound out from the earth and into the sky. Where once was a dreary town square was a slowly unfurling abundant field, dotted with buildings of seemingly and outwardly ludicrous and physics defying shapes. This vision held, then receded, held, then receded, as the Prince held his focus. The Chimera Prince, despite it all, continued to speak.
“We will reshape all, in due time! By the time the next day comes to the children of man, we will have won. All that must be done now, is to secure our victory. To hammer our existence in, to all those who may come to oppose us. However, I cannot do this alone. In fact, I cannot do this at all. I must see our vision through. In my place, however, I have someone else who will guide us to final fruition!”
His finger pointed down. At Marcel. Front and center, even if he hadn’t been a moment before.
“Marcel, who some of you have come to know, has been my strongest ward and protegee in these years of readiness. And while those above him tend to greater tasks, I leave you all, united in purpose, under his skilled and watchful eye. May you together, ensure our victory. I have no doubts in you all…go forth, and make this day one to remember!”
There was a resounding cheer, as the Chimera Prince flew into the mythical tower, which now had the means for him to dive inside, even at full wingspan.
As the world began to change, all around him, the eyes of hundreds of beings suddenly turned to Marcel.
Kindling And Miscellany 