Two-sided Prince

"Pathetic." Calvin brushed off the dust from his boots. There was no sweat from him. He grinned, as if amused by the attempt. He exhaled slowly, releasing the energy in small amounts from his hands, as if disarming himself.The energy settled and formed small orbs around him instead, circling him like silver fireflies.The crazed Calvin suddenly vanished, as if deflected along with the projectile. Calvin has calmed down, but the Glyfaginning did not.

"Give me the Grimoire!" Calvin shouted to the dark and misty distance.

An unnerving, pulsating vibe of energy weakened the hearts of three bodyguards, as if death was imminent. Priscilla could barely dodge the projectiles, and even she was taken by fear; her legs refused to move, freezing her in place. The two recruits could only cower behind the distance, both unable to lift a finger.

Priscilla looked desperate to assist Calvin, but could not utter a word. She can see her weapon laying on the floor, dropped awhile back. She tries to reach it, being near her feet, but to no avail. Her efforts to reach it with her slim arms had only tightened fear's grip, pushing her to the ground instead and falling to her butt, as if sitting, but not leaning.

The very sky itself made a large, crumbling sound as if being pulverized. The ground shook before them as if reacting to the pain of the heavens above.. The walls and buildings hazed and melted, as if a desert mirage. The Artifice paused for caution, but not everyone was as able to stay on their toes like Calvin did. Priscilla and the trainees were put to their knees. Images melted and molded before their eyes, as if everything that surrounded them was a facade. Soon, the sky above cleared; it was no longer a night at Mecia. A clear, burning day bathed the Artifice and his team, a day too bright and too hot; all too familiar. Sand replaced the damp concrete pathways, and rain plants turned to cacti and tumbleweed. Buildings collapsed to nothingness, replaced with sand. Hills of fine, golden brown earth grains surrounded them, placing them atop where the view was nothing but the expanse of nothingness. The wind touched their face with a hot slap, and the ground burned whatever skin it did touch.

"Calvin!" Priscilla mustered her will, shouting her concern. She could do nothing to help but watch as her superior stood alone in the open.

Priscilla tested if she could move her jaw again, and when she knew she could, she immediately bit her upper lip, making it bleed. The sharp pain gave her a brief moment to move. She bore through the desert heat, slowly picking herself up. She was able to stand, but her legs were frostbitten by fear, latched at where she stood.

"Wait....!" Priscilla shouted, short of air and reaching a hand out. She wobbled and almost fell again with her attempt to move from where she stood.

Calvin turned his head assuring Priscilla, but only a second early before another image came before their eyes: a 7 year-old child was running through the desert heat, rose cheeks, pale but hale, and short, wolf-silver hair. He was carrying a large book, twice his size. His muzzled breathing signaled his heart giving-in eventually. Behind him, a band of brutes with devices - spiritual tools that differ from artifacts, was chasing him. The mob yelled that they want their "book" back and kill the running boy.

The two recruits crawled to Priscilla using their elbows. They could not
move, but are able to speak like Priscilla.

"Mirage?" said Rawe

"High spirit density.... Relic thieves.... And the desert...!" Monde exclaimed.

"...it can't be." Said Priscilla.

The child eventually stumbled, throwing the book open, releasing white, firefly-like energy. He tried to crawl to it, but the fatigue won against the body, and small cuts and bruised covered him. He could only grasp the tome's cover with a few fingers, not enough to make it budge.

Priscilla could not take it to her heart. She readied herself for a dash, but white light bound her feet, and her arms tethered by thin, white silk.

"Don't interfere." Said the current Calvin.

"Sir...!" Monde shouted.

The bandits finally encircled the young boy. Who seemed to be the leader approached the young boy and pulled him up by his hair, and another bandit picked the book up, closing it. The leader was a tall man, around his forties, and bearded like a pirate. His hair was covered by a large yellow bandanna, covering most of his head. He was well-built, and lifted the child with nearly no effort.

The boy struggled like fish out of water as he was lifted, holding even the bandit's arm with his weakened hands.

"You've got some nerve, kid. I like that!" the bandit shouted at his face, spit flying. He signaled to give the book to him. "

This here book." the bandit lowered his tone; exhaled, and blew the dust covering it. "If you really want it, you can have it." he sarcastically remarked. The circle laughed at the boy. He was breathing heavily, barely even able to grip his captor's arm.

"I'll toss this here book in the air. And you with it." He grinned. "When you hit the ground, we'll beat. the lights. out. of. you." He snickered. "Live, and it's yours."

Before he tossed the child, he gave him a quick jab, leaving a wound on his cheek. Calvin was flung high towards the sun, and the tome followed, both charged by green spirit energy that gave them the distance.

"...Sir!" the two apprentices begged. Calvin took no heed. Instead, gave a faint grimace as if amused by the sight before them.

The boy was coming down quick. He did not panic as he was hurdling to the ground, and instead tried to grab the book. He swam in mid-air like a snake, twisting his already beaten body until he was able to hold onto it, hugging it because of its size.

Priscilla struggled to set herself free. She could not bear to see the child murdered before her eyes. She encased herself in a veil of orange spirit energy, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

"No!"

Priscilla broke her legs' spell. The exceeding spirit energy from her legs allowed her for quick movement; one step for her weapon to be swiped quickly to her hand and another to dash forward. Calvin immediately notices Priscilla's sign of rebellion. He gave a paralyzing look at her, as if releasing a huge amount of killing intent. The half-second distracted her long enough to let Calvin's spirit binds to grab Priscilla again, and this time, twice the number and thickness.

A different Calvin slowly approached the bound Priscilla. The leader she always looked up to with a nonchalant smile since they were little. Calvin wrapped his arms agains Priscilla, embracing her as if hugging her tightly. He covered her eyes with his own, blocking what was to unfold behind him.

"Priscilla. Please."

Hugging her tighter Calvin whispered at Priscilla's ear: "listen to me." and covering her eyes with his left hand. She gave in to his plea, knowing it was the real Calvin embracing her.

A loud thud displaces the quiet sands, putting Priscilla to tears. Her heart faltered again. She no longer resisted Calvin's arresting lock. The sound of meat viciously tenderized and bones cracking without resist made her grit her teeth again.

"That book was stolen from the kingdom." Calvin explained.

"I couldn't move that day. I couldn't shout. I couldn't cry. That day, I died."

"....what?!" Priscilla was dumbfounded.

"That's when I gave him the choice: to rot, or to live, bound to my contract." Said Calvin, but with an aggressive tone. His eyes burned with hate again. Spirits around him started to spark. The killing intent was back.

She tried to push Calvin away but to no avail. She hasn't recovered from her shock just yet.

The desert air were hushed. Sand did not settle and the scorching sun froze. The sky turned grey, and the illusion was over. From where the small child fell was a large crack in reality as if it was a mirror, and a vast darkness within, twisting like a distorted universe. A small fist shatters the surface as it appears, then a kick breaks the hole further. A black 'something' emerged. This black piece of what seemed to be malignant flesh fell down to the ground at first, and then formed to what resembled a human boy. It took form, a child; the one that was mobbed. It had every detail, save complexion and luster.

"Give me the book!" Calvin repeated his statement earlier with the same threatening form.

The doppelgänger took a step forward, then another, and another, closing in to Calvin and Priscilla. A wicked smile with the child's laughter paced his steps as he approached.

Calvin released Priscilla from his clasp and binds, as if casting her aside. The grimore strapped to his back glowed violently, reacting to the child's presence. The small beads of spirits became erratic shapes, and spun violently as well.

"Now, now. Don't toy with our food over there. Or have you grown attatched?" The child carelessly said. He looked unimpressed as he judged Calvin from head to toe.