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Elysium[1998]
–Newt Scamander—
His smile faded as the portal closed, as he turned around and levelled a disapproving glare at Voltrok, who did not look at him, as the droplet of blood from Damian was flicked towards Severian, who carefully stored it in a small tube.
Voltrok then promptly disappeared through the roof, phasing through ground and wood to get away from here. Seeing that Voltrok was gone, he turned around, stomping to get out of the room, after Severian, who was walking to the lower levels, "You planned this?"
Severian shrugged, "It was all Voltrok. He just told me to bring something to store the boy's blood. I had no idea how he was going to do that, especially because of that shield around the boy."
Yes, that shield. A magical shield created through enchantments, placed directly on his clothing. A marvellous creation, because the boy had been able to go all night without the shield deactivating even once. Even so, no matter how strong, Voltrok's claws were beyond that shield, as Voltrok retrieved the kid's blood.
All of this just to check his compatibility?
"What good is it going to be if the boy doesn't come back later on? What happens then, huh? Have you thought of that? What if your actions just now made him distrust us later on?" He admonished Severian, who just shook his head and continued walking down the stairs, going past the storage levels and now descending to the secured locker levels.
He sighed as Severian, worried as he was about Newt's health, did not speak a word, going about the job as if possessed, just so they could find a new partner for Voltrok before his time was up, which was stupid because he was not just going to let Voltrok go to someone whose only qualification was magical and bloodline compatibility.
He might be living on borrowed time, but he was not going to let Voltrok fall into the wrong hands. He would rather Voltrok and Elysium be in the hands of a much weaker wizard with reduced compatibility than let them fall into the hands of someone he could not trust.
The boy, he was young, very young. He also knew far more stuff than he should.
Kaamar Taj? That was something that was kept hidden from the majority of the population, for a reason. Kamar Taj were the Unspeakables on steroids. At least people knew that the Unspeakable existed, even if their exact identities were hidden beyond tremendous safeguards.
Kamar Taj? Most Wizards, or even most member states of the ICW even had no idea of Kamar Taj and how crucial a role it played in the legislation and enforcement part of Kamar Taj.
The boy somehow recognised the portal or the Sling Ring, which was yet another interesting thing about him.
But interesting did not mean that he trusted the kid. Words and thoughts meant nothing, even magical compatibility meant very little to him. What mattered were his actions.
Long term actions, based on which he could make his decision.
Alas, he did not have long term with him, but he could observe the boy for at least a few more years. And then, make the decision.
Until then–" Will you slow down, you buffoon?! My joints are creaking here!"
___xx___
London[1998]
–Damian Hawthorne–
Hefting the bag on his back, he looked at the street light and the small house on the other side of the road. If he was not wrong, then this must be some kind of park or a forest with that house on the outskirts of the city.
It was likely that Newt sent him here, to avoid the portal being seen by anyone. He assumed that Kamar Taj had some strict laws regarding Sling Rings and their portals being seen by people who were supposed to be kept in the unknown about wizards, Sorcerers, and magic of all sorts.
Taking a look over himself, he found himself looking acceptable, with the leather bag being the only thing looking out of place on an otherwise ordinary-looking ensemble of clothing. Too bad it was not twenty five years into the future, where his bag would have been assumed to be yet another fashion trend that no one understood.
First things first, shelter. Normal hotels, motels, or hostels would never take him because of his age but what about magical lodges? The kind where authority and oversight was next to none, and even that minimal part could be done away with either by money or by pedigree.
With that in mind, with a fresh filling of magical milk, he set about his journey of exploring the city.
If he remembered correctly, London was a big place, more spread out compared to cities like New York, but that also worked in his favour. While activating invisibility was not needed for most of the time, if he did need to just hide from someone, he had lots of space to run into while being invisible.
"Alright, enough dilly dallying around," He muttered to himself, taking a step forward, only for his feet to find no purchase, as he looked down, only to find a hole in reality, a TING! Sound reverberating around him as he heard her speak, "I would agree. Enough delaying."
He fell face first into a tree, and recovered immediately, as he had his force field active in the first place, "Shit!" She found him. Well, he knew she would be able to find him but he thought she was just joking when it came to the part where she told him she would hand him over to the Ministry of Magic.
His gaze swivelled wildly all around himself, finding the hole in reality, a square shaped mosaic in the sky of this mirror dimension, showing the night sky on the other side, as he immediately jumped and then began using the explosion pebbles, right near his hands.
Explosions pushed him upward, while the forcefield kept him protected, as the hole in the sky, which was rectangular instead of circular, began closing in on itself.
He knew there was no way he could actually defeat the Ancient One, but he had to at least try. He did not want to fall into the hands of the Ministry, despite his rather considerable power.
Somehow, against all odds, he jumped through the portal, as gravity reasserted itself and he found himself falling back down, avoiding that same hole by inches.
He had no wish to recreate the iconic momentum building mechanism of the Portals game. It looked fun on the screen but it must be horrible to experience in real life. Just falling and falling.
He immediately stood up and bolted. He might have escaped the mirror dimension, but all it did was fill him with more dread, as he knew that the Ancient One let him escape, for some inexplicable reason.
So, he ran. With his invisibility active, his bag dropped, who knows where, he ran. It was nighttime, with very few cars on the streets, as he ran and ran. His enhanced body let him run for what felt like miles without stopping, as he conserved his magic for the confrontation with the Ancient One, who was still nowhere to be seen.
Turning around a corner, he found himself stopping right at the edge of a suburban neighbourhood, with identical houses and lawns littered on both sides.
Utterly uninteresting, but it worked for now, because he was still in the real world and not the mirror dimension. He would take boring suburban areas any day over that mirror dimension, and more importantly, what came after that mirror dimension, government custody.
He could not keep his magic flared all around him, just in case it triggered the local Magical government people here, which would just exacerbate his problems, so he kept his senses peeled and ran into the suburb.
He passed multiple houses, all looking the same, most of them with impeccable lawns, and a few cars, right up until he reached the other side of the road. There was no one out at this time of the hour, and most houses did not have their lights on, which meant they were asleep.
In mere minutes, he found himself reaching the end of the street, with a small park built on both sides of the road, with the creaking sound of a lone swing hitting his ears. Remembering Kamar Taj's rule about the dangers of exposing normal people to magic, he ran towards the swing, feeling slightly guilty about endangering someone who was most likely a child, but he had no choice right now.
He cursed himself internally, many times. Why did he have to come to London immediately? He could have gone to some other country, but nooo!
He looked back as he ran towards the swing, seeing a small silhouette in the dim light of the streetlamp, as he, somehow, tripped on a rock or something, and face planted on the lawn, and the lawn was very wet, as he somehow slid forward, the forcefield acting against him as he could not find a grip on the wet grass.
He slid forward, right up until his hand hit the structure around the swing, creating a loud noise.
He immediately looked up as the kid fell out of the swing because of him. He stepped forward to help the kid up, taking hold of his very skinny arm to do so, words of apology stuck in his mouth as he saw, with the light from the streetlight falling perfectly on it, a lightning bolt scar.
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