***
Nullus Spero snapped his head up to look at his best friend, “What did you say?”
“I apologise,” the teenage male standing opposite him replied, staring intently at his boots.
“For what exactly?” Spero asked, tilting his head in confusion.
“... You’ll know when the moon is bright.”
Spero’s emerald green eyes sought Omnis Fides’s brown ones, “Pardon?”
“Don’t concern yourself about it. Just remember, when the time comes, I never wanted to.”
“What are you trying to say?”
There was a prolonged silence as Fide’s mirrors scry-link faded to black. A ripple of colour flickered over the surface of the reflective glass and then it shimmered down until finally still. Looking into the now normal mirror, Spero frowned, “What was Fides waffling on about?”
Spero, happiness now dulled due to his previous riveting conversation, staggered away from the mirror with a loud, over exaggerated sigh. In a high, pinched voice he muttered to himself, “Don’t make friends with scholars, darling, they’ll only succeed in confusing you further.”
Spero glanced out the window, the full moon high in the sky. He tried not to let Fides words get to him and he continued to mutter to himself. His mocking faded as he flopped down onto the king sized bed, his black curls splaying in all directions, “I hate it when mother’s correct.”
In fact, Spero had, at first, chosen Fides to be his best friend exactly to prove his mother wrong. Scholars couldn’t have been all that complicated, he had decided, taking a liking to the silent nature of Fides went he first arrived. Fides had been a bit of an oddball at the scholars courts, his quiet attitude considered a bad sign for future political discussion. Spero, an oddity himself, being of mixed noble and common blood, had instantly felt empathy for him.
It was almost fate when they found themselves boarded together. In fact, it seemed like destiny, for as Spero slowly managed to coax Fides out of his shell, he found that they were a lot alike and they became fast, close friends. So close in fact, rumours about them spread like spellfire in an oil drenched forest.
Spellfire, Spero wondered. It was meant to be dangerous and many thought it to be so hazardous that its practice should be outlawed. However, from the scrolls Fides had leant him about magic basics; it didn’t appear to be that hard to create and the specifications of it were almost spectacular. The energy gift and its efficiency were meant to be almost equal, 45% to 48% (total: 93%), meaning only 3% of the magic trade off was wasted and 7% wasn’t used at all.
Spero rolled over, his eyes opened in curiosity and his hand was tensed, but was open in a claw like shape. He bored his eyes into the middle of his hand, focusing on a single wrinkle and then closed his eyes. From what he had read about magic, it was meant to be an easy practice which came from the logic of the mind and strength of the body.
A simple, strange sentence Spero had read about spellfire reverberated around his mind, “For as life is warm, and death is cold, spellfire is both and neither, burning bright while as dark frost.” As the sentence intensified in his thoughts a tingly sensation began to numb his hand. His concentration grew and in proportion so too did the heat that he was feeling in his palm. Soon, the heat burst into a physical embodiment and a small blue flame danced above his palm, where it was the hottest. Not daring to breathe, Spero swiftly sat up and experimentally ran his other hand over the top of the fire. An unexpected icy chill ran up the hairs of his arm and the cold shock snapped his thoughts.
Instantly, the flame shot up out of his hand and Spero watched in horror. It began to consume a painting on the wall which Spero had never really taken a liking to anyway. Spero’s sight began to blur, his surroundings now just blots of colour and a flaring source of light. The spellfire was stealing his energy. It was using it to fuel its consumption. If Spero died, it would have enough energy to consume everything in its destruction path for infinity. His body felt heavy, and his mind tired. Sleep begged him to let go. Spero’s eyes closed, his thoughts fading.
The world was slipping away… away… away…
“Nullus!” A voice shouted, slicing through the thick darkness.
Spero snapped his head back into logic. Steps began to approach him. He felt them thud on the ground and vibrate the wooden floorboards. His conscious was slipping again. A larger thud, sounding like someone falling to their knees and then a small burst of words made it through the hash of nothingness, “Break---godda---idio---chain---have---now!”
Then Spero heard, saw, breathed and lived blackness.
He could the feel the heat of hands shaking him back and forth. Then blackness. Something collided with his cheek. Then blackness. A blossom of pain flowered through his face. Then... a spurt of anger hit Spero and the blackness momentarily skittered away from his mind. Mustering all the energy he had left, he focused on imagining a chain, weak and thin, resting in front of him. Then, without hesitation, he head-but the person kneeling in front of him, shattering the imaginary chain in the process. Then blackness. But he felt the warmth of a familiar lap under his head.
There was whisper no louder than the sigh of the dead, “I’m sorry.”
***
What do you think?

