7
Mark felt the walls of his room closing in on him, the weight of his newfound knowledge too heavy to bear in solitude. He grabbed his coat and headed for the sanctuary he'd found in a nearby park, a secluded spot where he could be alone with his thoughts—and his burgeoning powers.
He walked through the winding paths of the park, feeling the cool breeze on his face and the sound of the leaves rustling under his feet. He made his way towards a secluded spot he had discovered earlier, away from the prying eyes of other park-goers.
Sitting cross-legged on the soft grass, Mark closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath. His hands began to glow with an ethereal blue light, a manifestation of his power. It was time to test the boundaries of his abilities.
With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a small ball of light, watching it dance around in the air before him. With a sweeping motion of his hand, the ball of light shot across the clearing, leaving a trail of light in its wake.
Mark smiled as he watched the ball of light trail, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. He continued to practice his magic, experimenting with different spells and incantations.
As he practiced, he couldn't help but think about his parents and their own mastery of magic. He wondered what kind of spells they could cast and what kind of power they held. What spells had they known? What secrets had they taken to their graves? The questions gnawed at him, each unanswered query fueling a growing tempest of emotion.
As the thought of his parents crossed his mind, Mark's emotions started to get the best of him. He felt a surge of anger and frustration building up inside of him. He tried to focus, but the emotions were too strong.
His concentration shattered, and the orb of light flickered erratically before extinguishing.
Mark's eyes snapped open, the sudden absence of light mirroring the void he felt within. His emotions had betrayed him, disrupting the delicate balance of his magical energies.
He exhaled deeply, recalling Aunt Lida's cautionary words about the volatile nature of their family's magic. He couldn't afford to let his emotions run rampant; the stakes were too high.
Centering himself once more, Mark resumed his magical exercises. Yet, as he conjured and manipulated the elements, his thoughts drifted to the scant memories he had of his parents wielding magic. They had shown him parlor tricks, simple illusions like vanishing coins or levitating trinkets. But he had never witnessed the full scope of their magical prowess.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. Mark's eyes snapped open, and he immediately stopped his practice. He looked around but saw nothing. He tried to dismiss the sound, thinking it was just an animal in the bushes.
However, the rustling grew louder, and Mark's senses were on high alert. He stood up, ready to defend himself if necessary.
A figure materialized from the shadows, a man shrouded in an aura so dark it seemed to swallow the light around him. He was tall, imposing, and exuded an air of malevolence that made Mark's skin crawl.
"Well, well, well," he said in a deep, menacing voice. "What do we have here? A young magi, all alone in the park."
"Who are you?"
"Someone you should fear," he replied chuckling.
Before Mark could react, the stranger lunged at him with supernatural speed, his fist crackling with dark energy. Mark barely had time to summon a wind barrier, deflecting the attack but sending him skidding back.
The fight intensified as they exchanged blows and spells. Mark used his agility and quick thinking to stay one step ahead, but he could tell that his opponent was a skilled fighter.
"You seemed to be strong, but you lack experience," the stranger taunted, hurling a blast of energy at Mark.
Mark quickly conjured a shield to protect himself. His adrenaline was pumping as he dodged and weaved through the stranger's attacks. He was surprised by the man's strength and skill, but Mark's own magical abilities helped him keep up.
He rolled to the side, dodging the bolt, and retaliated with a fireball. The stranger deflected it with a wave of his hand and unleashed a torrent of shadowy tendrils.
"Enough games," Mark muttered, his eyes glowing brighter. He channeled his energy and unleashed a shock wave of light, momentarily blinding his opponent.
Seizing the moment, he summoned ethereal chains that shot from his hands, aiming to bind the stranger. But the man shattered them with a guttural incantation, his eyes now glowing a sinister red.
He let out a powerful burst of energy, sending Mark flying backward. He landed hard on the ground, his breath knocked out of him.
"You're not bad for a youngling," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you're no match for me."
Mark struggled to catch his breath as he scrambled to his feet. He focused his energy, and his hands started to glow with a bright blue light.
The two continued to trade blows, each one more ferocious than the last. Mark could feel his energy draining with each spell he cast.
I have to end this soon...
The stranger charged again, but this time Mark was ready. He channeled his energy into a powerful burst of light that slammed into the stranger, sending him flying backward.
"You underestimate me, boy," he growled, summoning a dark vortex in his palm.
The stranger lunged, his vortex expanding, ready to consume him . But Mark was quicker this time. With a shout, he released a concentrated beam of pure energy, colliding with the vortex.
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as light and darkness clashed in a cataclysmic struggle. Then, with a deafening explosion, Mark's beam shattered the vortex, sending the stranger crashing into the trees, defeated and disoriented.
"You...how are you this strong?"
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The stranger let out a weak laugh. "You'll find out soon enough, little magi," he sneered, before disappearing into thin air.
Mark stood there, panting and exhausted, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Who the fuck is that?
Mark's senses were still tingling as he left the park, the stranger's dark aura lingering in the air like a malevolent mist. The atmosphere felt unnaturally cold, as if the stranger had left a residual chill in his wake.
As he walked towards his home, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The encounter with the stranger had left him feeling shaken and confused. He wondered who the stranger was and what he wanted from him.
Walking through the streets, Mark felt the weight of curious eyes on him. Glancing down, he realized his clothes were torn and singed and realized that he must have looked like a mess.
He found his aunt sitting in the living room, watching TV. She looked up and noticed his disheveled appearance. "Oh my god, Mark! What happened to you?"
"I don't know. I was attacked by some stranger while practicing my spells."
"Oh no, are you hurt? Let me see."
"No, I'm fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises."
She sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She ushered him upstairs and handed him a towel. "Take a shower and get into some clean clothes. We'll talk about this after you've had some rest."
Once inside the bathroom, he took off his torn clothes and examined the bruises and cuts on his body. He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
Who was that man? And what did he want?
The warm steam enveloped him as he turned on the shower, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance to finally wash away the grime and sweat from the day's events.
The warmth of the water helped ease the tension in his muscles and the pain in his body. He leaned his forehead against the tiles, feeling the water pour down over his back. It was a small moment of peace and calm, a break from the chaos of the outside world.
As he stood under the stream of water, he let his mind wander. Who was that stranger? What did he want? And why did he attack him in the park? These questions swirled around in Mark's head as he washed himself clean.
Finally, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel. He looked in the mirror and saw the remnants of the battle still evident on his body. Bruises and cuts adorned his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. He dried himself off and got dressed, feeling a little more refreshed.
He knew he needed to tell his aunt everything, but he also didn't want to worry her. He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, walking back to the living room where Lida was waiting.
