Overture of a Broken Soul
Zokkine was able to keep up his showman’s smile when he finally said his goodbyes of the night. Mega was taken. Kappi was shaking from anger, and not even the bubbly Attzi could calm him down. Zimble gave an order to which the entire Contingency ignored. To leave Mega behind.
A showman’s smile. A smile well practiced. A smile, that was as fake as the well practiced lies he told to so many.
A smile he flashed to Attzi to ease any concerns, any worries she might have had. He had gotten rather well practiced at certain lies as the years went on, few as they might be. He muttered under his breath an incantation, but not the incantation for home. No. The one place he felt safe. The one place he was secure. His sanctuary, his heaven. His home away from home.
His Study.
In a flash of bedazzling glitter that caught the light of a balcony, the mage reformed to the entrance of his Study. A grandiose circle that had a circular bulb of clear light to keep the Twisting Nethers chaotic magic free from the mage’s person. Crystallin gems that appeared to be decoration, laced up and along the outer edge, glowed with an unnatural light that danced on the man’s tired and exhausted features. Rows of sparkling gems trailed up to the archway that lead into the ballroom like entranceway that the mage now walked along with small, laborious steps. A line of gems from which this protective wall of transparent light rose up and around to give the illusion of a magical window. The surface of which shimmered not entirely unlike an oily surface, catching the lights from distant stars and planets. In times past, one could catch the mage peering out from behind this strange wall, watching the natural life flitter past, uncaring of the alien onlooker. Unnerved by the goings ons of mortal lives. Unbothered by their frustrations.
An outcrop the mage in green barely noticed, as slow steps pulled him underneath the fantastical arch that lead into the entrance of his beloved study. What usually feels so warm and welcoming with their gaudy colors and bright lights to the mage, now only seemed to illuminate his incompetence from the curves and twists in the buildings’ foundation. What wonders the outside in the Twisting Nether that brought hours upon hours of study and fascination, was now little more than a simple window decoration in this moment of weighted sorrow.
Not two steps onto a long straight of dark carpet did it ripple illuminated magic out from the pressure his footprints made, waves of beautiful red light rippling out like it was a lake. Each step brought more ripples of soft light, until the runway glowed in its entirety. The light illuminated the mage’s creases and crevices, giving him the appearance of his true age. Or perhaps of how much the stress in his own life had unnaturally aged him, unable to be hidden with make up or blush. On either side, the light continued to gradually brighten the room up, streatching up into strings of red and white lights that trailed and laced over the ceiling. Picture perfect sculpture of dragon like beings each holding up the strings of lights on claws and teeth. Decorating along the top most ceiling, keeping watch as gargoyles over the mage’s abode. Forever silent. Forever waiting.
Forever judging…
Multifaceted eyes danced with the red light, keeping the mage locked in their static gaze as he walked up to the grand double stairway, now illuminating the two blue larger dragons at the top who’s bodies and tails made up the staircase’s stairs and railings.
He didn’t dare glance at the centerpiece that the staircase encircled around. He couldn’t. There, upon what would appear to be an elevated platform like stage was none other than the mage himself. But not as he is now, no. It was him but as a teenager, his dark blue eyes full of hope and wonder as he sang to the invisible crowd before him. His mouth agape to show not the mage’s slightly crooked toothed smile, but of perfectly straight teeth with lips thinner than they truly are. His arms untouched by the fire that took his past, and future, his right arm tattoo proudly revealing his family’s brand. A single bolt with wings proud and bold, encircled by the flames of fortune as his father called it. Smiling wide as the proud son of a Flipbolt
A prideful grin that now scowls at the failure of a mage that now slowly scaled up the stairs.
Gently touching the railing, caused the blue spines of the dragons’ tails to illuminate like a wave of light. Each one glowing with a spine of blue gems, each one hand crafted by the mage. Gems he had been incredibly proud of having created after learning to harness the magical energy that made up the flora of the Crystalize forest. He always enjoyed feeling the excess magic that eminated from them, with it feeling like a comfortable warmth. Even today, after such tragedy, he caught himself almost basking in the magical warmth of his Study.
Almost.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he still couldn’t bare to look at the best version of himself that stood in protection in the middle of the grand entrance. A voice that he swore came from it’s lips spoke in judgmental words…
“You failed again.”
In an effort to drown out this invasive voice, he turned down a darkened hallway that started to illuminate much like the Grand Entrance did. Red and white rows of lights held up by much smaller drake’s, attached in a way like murals, running and flying playing together, while others appeared to try to escape from the wall that bound them. The lights soon turned from both red and white to now just white as a crossroads appeared before him. And with it, another center piece.
This time, however, it wasn’t the mage that stood stoically at the middle of the four way intersection. No. While it had looked like him, same deep, ocean blue eyes with curled ears and a strong nose, he was older by a good ten or twenty years than the mage. On this statue his chin was thicker, his brow more prominent, with thicker ears and a stern expression. Dressed in a suit and tie reminiscent of an upper class Kezanian rather than a showman, the statue held a very simple plaque at the bottom.
-In loving memory, Kejek Flipbolt. Beloved big brother. I’ll always remember everything you taught me Jay-
Even now, he could hear his brothers words, the lips parting on the statue as his brother’s long lost voice filled the still air.
“…you failed again, Zokk…”
With a thin lip, the mage turned a quick right, a flickering of orange flame dancing briefly in his iris’s. Tears blinking away as his brothers voice called out from behind him still
“…ya had one fawkin’ job an’ ya failed!”
He could feel his older brothers judgmental eyes on him, burning in the back of his skull. Glaring at him. Gloating in once again, another failure…
“You trained your whole life for this and still. Just like the fire, eh Sparkles?” His brother’s voice echoed off the walls, making the mage hurried stride turn into a run. His feet making this new hallway illuminate faster than the Grand Hallway, only this time purple lighting mingled with cream. The hallway opened up more and more as the dragons that held up the lights here bigger as well. Only this time, one appeared to boast a hat, them another what could appear to be a vest. Until he saw it, the end of the hallway, the entryway into the Piano Room. Blocked.
Blocked by a thick figure who loomed in the distance. Like Zokkine and the statue of his brother, this figure too had curled ears, and piercing ocean blue eyes. His ears pointed like knives with a gaze that never let Zokkine free
“Disgraceful.” It spat out in a booming voice that echoed against the emptied halls. The figure grew larger as in Zokkine’s horror, it moved steadily closer.
“First, you fail your brother. Raised you almost, taught you everything ya know. Then? Oh ho, then ya fail the one man ya said you cared about. Remember him…? Because ya looking right at'im. And now…?”
His heavy steps drew closer, and closer. Am intimidating presence to behold, but his laughter was sickening.
“…ya fail the guy who pays ya paycheck not once, twice. Counter spelling… What son of a Flipbolt allows a fawkin'counter spell to stop him huh?”
Flames licked in the mage’s eyes once more before he blinked them away with his tears. The visage of his father, however, remained
“You were trained to destroy other mages.” He gripped his hands like he was strangling, before looking back “Remember that? Yeah, remmeber? You fawkin’ better because that’s how I fawkin’ raised you! The one thing you practiced since you were yay high-”
As the visage raised his hand to show Zokk’s childhood height, he started repeating words to himself as the fire flickered once again
“I’m not a killer. I’m a performer…entertainer…I’m not a- a murderer…!”
He’d charge forwards aiming to body slam his father. Only for the visage to prove no more than a mirage as the annoyed keys from his piano screamed in pain from his frontal assault. Flames now danced freely in his vision, his tightly gripped fists gradually growing in the heat from his rage.
A low, pained groan eminated from the chest of the mage as a hand released only to rest gently on the ornate piano. Golden glitter and sparkling silver decorated the mahogany of it’s body, glistening now by the light of the hallway that lead in. Above and below stretched an audience of now not just draconic beings, but those of whom the mage knew in his life as well. Busts of different people encircled his stage, his brother and father chatting amongst themselves in the front, highest balcony of the room. A priestly blond holding out a mug for a pig tailed, shark toothed grinning woman to pour into sat in another loftly outcrop. A Mecha goblin holding close a beloved Bot, with an excitable buck toothed, wide eyed mage besides him leaning forward to cheer the man on.
All awaiting a show of a life time. All awaiting for the pianist to peel himself off of his piano, and to start his symphony
Multiple eyes peering down at him. Waiting. Waiting… In deafening silence…
Piercing silence broke through a voice that sounded softer than the judgment filled voice that had sounded from each of statues before. A voice that wasn’t the commanding voice of his father, no. One that was all to familiar, yet at the same time alien to the mage.
It was his own.
“…Jay, she… Begged. Begged for for me not to…”
The piano started to glisten, the gold and silver glowing with their own shimmering light. The mage struggled to pull his head upright to see the visage of his teenage self with his hands in his head, seated at the piano. A memory perhaps, a visage, a vision of pure flame. Fire still licked along his irises as he stared with deadened and tired eyes at his teenaged self, head buried in his untouched hands. This version of himself was in his old showman’s garb, a much more tasteful ensemble than the green and cream outfit he’s well known for today. But the vibrant purples and sparkling silver was tainted by the flame’s light, bright red as the visage was made purely of flame.
“…Jay, she…”
Another voice, more mature and deeper sounding than the mage emanated from his left. Gentle, yet firm. The voice of his brother.
“..failed to pay.”
Just like his statue, he wore a well fitted suit, sitting stoically at the piano, eyes turned down on the keys. He too was made of the same flame as his younger brotherly visage.
The image of the younger mage only shook his head, a waver in his voice.
“…no. No, no Jay she did…”
The mage pushed himself off of the piano, glancing with forlorn eyes at the memory that played out before him. His hand slid along the top of the piano as he rounded to it’s front, the glow of the glitter brightening with a soft illumination as the fiery figures grew steadily more solid. The flames of this memory starting to lap away to show a more steady and realistic frame of man and mage.
“She didn’t.” The visage of his brother reached down to pull up a shadow of a piano casing “Now, shut up an’ play.”
It was at this the visage of the teenage mage removed his head from his hands, trails of liquid flame pooling down from his eyes, “…play…” He seethed before turning and snapping at his brother. Each word dripped out slow and thick with venom, “… How the fawk do ya expect me ta play…?! After watching her suffer…?!” The visage of the mage stood up, glaring at the brothers visage. “How can I, Jay?! How the fawk can I play after hearing her-”
“SIDDOWN, SHUDDUP AN’ PLAY DAMNIT?!” Kejek snapped, eyes glaring at the younger mage. No… It wasn’t at the younger mage. It was at the man who leaned over the piano as if drunk. Using it for physical support. With eyes still licked with flame, he circled around to the memory, just as his younger self sat back down, glaring at the keys.
As he rounded to the piano’s front, the image of his younger self slowly sizzled away, like the memory that it was. His brother, however, remained frozen in time.
“..how…?” Zokkine asked the memory of his brother, staring at the keys of his beloved piano. His voice strained with exhaustion, “…I keep failing Jay… I’m supposed ta fawkin’ protect, what I was hired ta fawkin'do…” He lifted the case of the piano, showing the glistening black and white keys that lay hidden beneath “…yet I can’t even do that fawkin’ right…”
As his hand graced over the keys, the image of his brother started again as the mage recalled the memory once more, his brothers words piercing through the air, tense and harsh, “…shuddup, an’ play. Don’t fuckin’ think, don’t fuckin’ talk…” The sounds the the piano started as the image played on the piano, off sounding keys melted with sharps and flats, as the image started to play a piano from years past “… Just play the fawkin’ thing.”
Zokkine sat down at the piano as his brother started on an angered tune, reaching a hand out to rest on the piano keys
“… Just fuckin’ play…”
He echoed his brother’s wisdom, as the memory’s hand reached towards Zokkine’s side of the piano. Watching his brother play like he had in years past. Nothing but the sounds of the phantom’s song resonated against the empty halls of the mage’s study, angered and saddened in their solo sonata.
“Always was your advice for everything…” He lamented, wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks. With his right, he reached to start his own song, while his left he started working the magic that hung thick in the air. The visage of his brother grew to be less of a fiery visage, and more like how he looked in life, as Zokkine had remembered him. Flames sizzled away as Kejek’s image played, while color retuned to his suit and face.
Zokkine glanced once more the memory of his brother, still playing the piano. As the song started to grow sadder, so too did the visage start to gradually fade. Back into the nothingness that was always there, until the only thing that ever showed it existed was the lingering notes that danced off the farthest walls
The mage turned back to his piano, his hand tracing along the sparkling keys. There was a subtle movement, or perhaps a trick or the light as he glanced up to where his father and brothers’ overhanging statues sat. Only unlike the judgmental eyes of the statue that stood in memory at the cross way, this one had eyes of patience. Eyes that he truely remembered, and a deep gentle voice that resonated the halls.
“Give'em a show ta remember, ‘aight Sparkles?”
His brother’s encouraging words echoed against the walls, without source. The mage’s eyes closed and he saw another memory in perfect clarity. The bar and club that his family prided themselves on that Zokk had begged to be a part of. Final act of the evening, one that his brother had to connive and bribe the organizers just to get the mage to even be considered. They knew their jobs were on the line. His brother had risked their father’s rage in even supporting Zokkine’s ambition. Even the reputation of the entire joint was on his head now.
Yet, the stage that seemed to call to him more than the backstage dealings. More than the Gang wars, the Trade wars, and even the Peace war that had won them a piece of Undermine. The showman’s call who’s roaring chorus overtook the quiet whispers of being a bruiser, a CEO, or even that of a soldier
With the memory fresh in his mind, he opened his eyes once again, now with a raging flame that flickered fiercely in the irises of his eyes. Ocean blue tides struggled to put out the now raging flames of magic that clouded over his vision. He was there. Back at the club. Back when so much expectation was set upon the young mage’s head
Back before the fire that ravaged it all.
A quick wave of Zokk’s hand turned the mage’s dirtied armour into his showman’s garb. A glitter and sequin decorated purple and silver ensemble that he had tailored so many years ago, only now a much tighter fit with the mage’s matured figure. Kejek’s image that was frozen in time, now dissipated into smoke as if the sudden use of magic had forced it back to the memory from which it came.
Zokkine’s hands reached out to the keys to perform the symphony that only he could hear. A cacophony of sounds that emitted from the mages heart, turning and weaving into a saddened tune that was the man’s inner chorus. As burned hands stretched along the keys, the piano glistened with latent magic sparkling gently for a show of one.
A single note, a gentle key played. That was all that was needed for the piano’s latent magic to burst into a gentle glow. An instrument enhanced the mage’s personal favorite. One that he created and perfected for the stage, for the lingering melody that plays in his heart.
The Showman’s Call.
Another key, another shimmer. The mage’s own outfit glistened with the music, as if each note held a power of untapped power.
A magical power the goblin man was only now letting release
More notes, weaved and melted into a song, his eyes flickering with the flames of emotions as he felt his pains of the past meld with the pain of the present. Gradually the piano’s magic started glowing, flame bursting forth from the arcane powder that he had decorated along the sides and top of the piano. Brighter and brighter, the light starting to burst even brighter, flame that licked over the surface of the instrument started to travel. He too grew with a gentle heat, light bursting with each sound on his beloved outfit, before bursting with flame as well.
He was lost. His mind traveled back to a time of the past. A time that was filled with both joys and pains, sadness and excitement.
A belch of fire emitted out to his left as his melody picked up in speed. Two figures, two younger goblin men that could be made out in the flames started to emerge. One appearing to be waiting. The other quickly arriving
The one that bolted to the other, even with the flame’s wild flickering could be seen the younger mage Zokkine. The man who had been waiting turning quickly to the oncoming mage. Only to dissipate into smoke the moment the younger magi leapt towards the still image who would soon follow after.
Another burst of frantic music as tears started in the mage’s eyes, and another flame shot out from the piano. This time, turning into a single looming figure that started to take a bit more solid form. The imposing figure of the young man’s father, back turned to a more timid teenager, fidgeting as if a man caught. Words echoed throughout the growing stage, echoing in the voice of Zokkine’s father
“You know what happens when a man fails me. And yet ya went ahead an’ done worse. Ya disappointed me.”
As the smaller flame image started to step forwards, both of the figures dissipated into a burst of smoke. Yet the voice continued.
“An’ ya know what happens ta men who disappoint me.”
The piano’s fire burst brightly as the mage slammed his hands down on the keyboard, creating an ugly sound of thirty or forty keys melting together. The resonating sound echoed around the large, emptied room until the only music played was the quiet crackling of the fire that had taken over the piano, that now too was starting to die down. Tears streaked down the man’s face as he started to lower his head, hands still arched over his beloved instrument.
“Fawkin'el I failed again…” He choked out at last, hands gripping into fists. “…one teleport. Jus’ one fawkin’ teleport was all he needed. Just one..fawkin’ teleport!” He’d reach his enclosed fists up, and slammed them down onto the piano again, a ripple of flame exploding out from the low dying fire along with the pained sounds of a dying piano.
“…just one…” He hoarsely whispered as he steadily collapsed over the keys. “…just one, Jay…”
“…it’s all he needed…”
Exhaustion started to take hold of the mage as he collapsed into the crook of his arm, tears now staining heavily down his cheeks. He raised his other hand up as a flicker of flame started on the cusp of his wrist, before slamming it down against the piano, it’s angered pained cry rivaling only his own. Another vibration of magic emanated from the force, darkening down the lights that strode across the entirety of his Study.
Sobs echoed against the emptied halls as darkness started to overtake the study once more. Multifaceted draconic eyes sparkled with the lowlight, until they too went dim. In time the sobs grew into mere whimpers, before silence overtook the halls once more. The once vibrant palace that the mage created for himself, darkened as sleep grew over him like vines.
But if one was to listen closely, there was a hushed whisper that had almost clung in the air. As if it was the remnants of an old rune left so long ago. Hushly whispered before all was quiet once again.
“…just like you, Jay. Just like you…”
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