Key for this chapter:

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*Rinzen's Thoughts*

//Anyone Else's Thoughts//

'Old dialogues memories, spoken out loud thoughts, the past in general...'

///Memories///

POVs

""Not an Actual Speech or Thought""

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Warning: Alternative POVs

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*****

Time: 31-03-2113

*****

The Witching Hour.

Well almost, it was twenty minutes to midnight, and Rinzen was restless—probably not the best word to describe his current state, but he was for a lack of a better term, restless.

At eighteen years old, built with a lean-lithe muscular stature, and having trained in several forms of martial arts since he was ten, he sat cross-legged on his bed desperately trying to meditate and failing miserably.

Amber-honey eyes focused on the wall opposite him, he exhaled, bit his lower lip, chewed on it reflexively and then tried again. Closing his eyes he tried the ancient form of Vipassana as opposed to the traditional form of meditation, no matter what his favorite sensei tried to prescribe, patience was not something he had.

Counting in reverse from ten to one, he tried to envision the rule of insight into the true nature of reality. Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling—

'Thud!'

Rinzen's eyes snapped open, his attention directed to where one of his books, fell straight off of the bookshelf to the floor, cursing he flopped onto his back dramatically;

"That's it, I give up", he grumbled.

Not that there was anyone to hear about it, unlike most eighteen years old he, was stuck at home, on a Friday night currently staring at his ceiling.

Being an outcast had its disadvantages.

*

Most people awakened to their type of magic when they turned sixteen.

MAGIC, capital letters, and everything;

After the final world war which lasted ten years, the world had shifted on its axis, Mother Nature had given up on trying to dissuade society from destroying her reserves and her bounty decided to step in.

A blast strong enough to knock mountains to dust had been the first warning, which predictably many ignored. The second had been a wave, that couldn't really be classified as tsunami, or a whirlpool or anything similar, it started in every sea across the globe going insane and washing away their coastlines off the map, and that too humanity ignored. The third had been animals losing their minds, attacking everything and everyone, creatures as docile as hamsters became chaotic demons. That's when humans suddenly realized if animals became like this, humans weren't far off of the map, to losing their minds.

Bunkers, and ships and certain areas that were rich in history and spiritualism were warded to hell and back, gates and walls were constructed, cities recreated to house ethnicity from all over the world. 'The end of the world' propaganda started spewing new religions and even more—individual cities such as Boston Quincy, Cambridge and Lowell merged into one large sanctuary and protected people from more attacks.

The real change began fifty years ago, six months after The Big War finally ended in 2032, magical beings that were only ever read about in books, and stories or seen on film began to appear, many creatures forced out of hiding. Half by nature half by mercenaries—instigating their own form of a hate crime, no one knew how to tackle.

Yet no one would have guessed that crime as heinous as subjugation attempts of an entire sect of people would be compared to something as simple as a shoplifter stealing candy from a baby, after a few years had passed, of course.

It wasn't written in the record books, but it was unanimously acknowledged that humanity had never in the history of the universe ever been accepting of the extraordinary.

""Humans always took the approach to attack what they could not comprehend or understand"".

So, when the first incident of something out worldly had occurred, the reaction wasn't much of a surprise, it was more of an expectation, that could not be stopped, the cat was out of the bag, convalescence had already begun.

The supernatural being exposed had shattered the illusion that 'being human' wasn't all there was. It's the 'How', that changed the world;

A werewolf cub had been captured, by fanatics calling themselves the supernatural police: Venerers, they were later re-named as. A special type of hunter class comprising of men and women that were biased and fundamentally factions of hate crime suspects. These hunters had released a live telecast of a public execution attempt on a five-year-old, after torturing him, to pull out his unique gift to turn into a wolf.

The video had first been considered a hoax, propaganda of attention-seeking. The media, news, people who took a chance to say anything and did, stood divided. Some had dismissed the story outright, and some had spread it further, the latter of which led to digging into obscure stories on yetis, abominable snowmen, bigfoot, and more. Stories that were dissected re-published, thrown out, and turned into fodder for other criminals.

Stories, that became hunting weapons, which flushed out the supernatural, stories that unleashed a war that lasted longer than all the three World Wars combined and then some.

The world had changed and The Big War had crumbled the world.

Supernatural disasters struck, humanity's weapon contested, both sides fought valiantly. Both sides' lost loved ones' the financial market collapsed in on itself, turns out hiding was expensive—take away their money, and you're left with the value of money dropping significantly, the job market, the economy everything went 'Kaboom'.

The world had changed, and people had changed.

Then as the mark of the twentieth year passed when the war seemed endless, a young human had rushed forward to protect a young witch, a child barely in control of her powers, standing frozen in a field of white flowers, watching several members of her family being killed, powerful and yet utterly powerless to try and help or stop the men from torturing and then killing everyone she loved, their blood staining those flowers permanently.

The girl had looked out desperately, spotted him hiding behind a tree, keeping a few of his own, away from the clearly drunk on power hunters, and screamed;

"HELP!!!"

After a startled pause, she continued;

"Please Help?!"

It could have been the desperation, the hopelessness, the knowledge that she was about to die, or it could have been the unending hope, that not all humans were bad, whatever it was, it had sparked something in the young man, and he'd run out, scooped up the little girl and run away.

He didn't have the power to save the rest of her family, but he'd saved her, witnesses had seen, and people spread the word. Eventually after another ten years, mostly owed to the young girl, who grew up into a beautiful sixteen-year-old with the help of the young man's son, united the neighboring towns and small villages and created TOIVO DEN, the first of many that would soon follow.

Toivo Den—a separate island that once used to be San Francisco and San Mateo and Santa Cruz all merged as one and now rested as an independent island in the Pacific Ocean. Marking the first bond between a human and a magical person, and The Higher Covenant that protected magical creatures raised it's 'voice' and declared that a partnership formed with the purest bond between a Normal Human and a Magical person, was to be honored above all other covenants.

And as trust was a two-way street, it took many more years till everyone on earth realized discretion was the better part of valor.

The gift of peace wasn't just for the supernatural, humans could be bound by the Laws of The Covenant as well, which often to led really bizarre and sometimes extremely stupid bonds being cast, but well, digression, the story is simple, once a The High Council of Supernaturals were cast, and a

Shamanic Council of High Priestess were appointed the bonds, were recorded on an offshore platform warded to hell and back.

The High Council of Supernaturals consisted of every Elder Leader Human and Supernatural, to be appointed from every City/Town/County that would then report to their state Leaders. These pairs of each state in a country would meet their Country Leaders and carry forward the reports accordingly; it was a very beehive-like formation, creating The Council of MAGIC.

The Council of MAGIC, abbreviated as: Mythical Assembly of Governing Influence's Congregation's.

It took several discussions, many arguments, two small unnecessary battles, a series of pointless cold wars' before it was agreed that to declare a bond, a symbol needed to be appointed, something that could wordlessly showcase one's objective.

This symbol was identified by a significant color, a natural object sealed with a drop of a person's blood. Blood magic; being one of the oldest and strongest magicks, tying the contract to the person invoking it, it helped that the color had its own set of significant details.

Red; the color of fire and blood, it was associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love. Red, emotionally the most intense color, it enhanced human metabolism, increased respiration rate, and raised blood pressure. The symbol worked in favor of adrenaline hooked desperation that sparked most bonds in a time of crisis.

So if anyone bonded to another, they would be marked with a red-inked magical tattoo.

Not that it made much of difference; ten years after everything had finally been sorted bonded mates were rare, like spotting a dragon rare. A possibility but never yet seen. The magical blood had practically diluted mundane's from the gene pool.

Most magical children awoke to their powers at sixteen, after which they were classified.

There were three groups of Magicks;

Borne: Those borne of magic, at least a descendant of parents who had magic, a bloodline of magical beings born into the world, their magical core was recorded as they usually were brought into the world in a shower of sparks and glowing lights.

Awakened; Magical creatures who had magical birthrights thrust upon them, rare but not unfounded. In rare circumstances, when someone with magic knew they were going to die, mostly in gruesome ways, they transferred their magic to the nearest person, the magic itself would find the most compatible host—the process was excruciating, or so he'd heard.

Opsimaths: Borne magicks that, unfortunately, hadn't awoken to their magic yet, so far most late bloomers awoke to their magic at eighteen or a few months after seventeen.

*

TBC...

Rinzen really hoped he awoke to his magic tonight, being the son of a reputed warlock and infamous witch, and having no magic was starting to be embarrassing. The bullying just kept getting worse—not that Rinzen couldn't protect himself, having trained in several forms of martial arts, swordplay and guns and tactical warfare, he was better than most magicks who relied solely on their magic to protect themselves.

Jackson has yet to land a hit; the pompous prick genuinely believed he was the best thing since sliced bread.

Turning back to the clock, he sighed and sat up, ten minutes to

The Witching Hour, he decided if he was going to present himself in front of his parents, it would be better if he at least got off his ass and changed into something presentable.

*Please God, at this point as long as I shoot sparkles out of my hands, please give me something!*

Taking a quick shower Rinzen, let the junk food dust he'd consumed wash into the gutter, he idly watched the water turn a different color, before turning his face up to the shower-head, he squeezed a dollop of some shower gel and rinsed himself off and let the water and soap wash away any incriminating evidence of his laziness.

Two minutes after feeling relatively human—as ironic as that entire statement was—he shut off the water and toweled off his impromptu bath.

After the shortest shower he'd ever taken, he walked back into his room, tossing his clothes and the towel into the laundry hamper; he walked into his closet and searched through his clothes. Finally, after a minute in which he'd walked past several identical jeans, he pulled on an equally yet breathable pair of mid-rise, slim-fitted jeans, navy blue jeans, and then pulled on a plain black t-shirt with full-sleeves, just in case someone accidentally turned the weather from a normal balmy night into frigid tundra weather.

He blinked at the row of jackets and exhaled, "Not bloody well likely I'm going to stop being who I am", he muttered to himself, and reached for his favorite slim-fit red leather jacket, pulling on his black fingerless gloves, he turned to the mirror,

"Yeah okay", he hummed and walked to the belts, pulling the simple buckled black belt into place, he slipped it around the loops in his jeans, and then put on his family's signet ring on his right hand's index finger;

"I think this is the best I'm going to look, at this point even if all I can do is shoot sparks, I'll at least look good", he muttered sneering at his reflection mockingly and then smirking.

*I'm still me…*

Turning he went back into his room, he was ready to go to the annex, the center of his house, where the magical circle sat, as he moved to grab his wallet out of habit, he looked down at it, shrugged, and then pocketed it, he walked towards the door, when his eyes arrested upon a glowing envelope, he paused mid-step and moved to look at the mysteriously appearing scrap of paper.

Wary he frowned down at the envelope. All mail should have been placed in the foyer. Why the staff thought it apt to bring the mail up to his room confused him, especially since they'd been all given leave. And the stationery was fancy; Rinzen didn't know anyone who would write him a letter in general, never mind on fancy gold-embossed paper.

Swallowing he licked his lips and picked up his ruler from his desk and poked the bear, so to speak, when nothing happened, not even a diminishing of the light, he crept closer and then rolled his eyes;

"I should not be this afraid of a piece of paper", he grumbled and then paused, "That magically appeared in my room", he hummed, "A room warded and sealed with a key", he added pointing at himself, the exception of being able to open given to his parents alone.

Reaching for his phone, he made a quick call;

"Hey mom?"

'Rinzen!' she answered cheerily, 'Has your magic awakened?' she asked cheerfully.

"Haven't checked yet, um, where are you?" he asked warily, eyeing the still effervescent piece of stationery.

'Oh kiddo, I wish I could be there to witness your awakening, but your father and I cannot get free from Elder Silverberg's enticing speech', she answered drolly.

Translation, Elder Silverberg was on a roll and only a crisis would get that man to shut up.

Rolling his eyes he shook his head; "That's okay mom, but I thought you said the staff was on leave?" he queried.

'They are', she answered distracted, 'No Maya not that, no I meant the other blue no… don't touch that, Oh God! Rinzen, honey I'm afraid I must beg your leave, let us know how your awakening goes. No!!!—'

Rinzen pulled the phone away quickly as a loud crash resounded on the other end, but that answered that he was completely alone.

"So how did this—", he poked the envelope again, "—get here?" he questioned the air.

Biting his lip, he exhaled and then shook his head, "I'm not a coward", he paused and then with an audible swallow reached out, "I am not a coward", he repeated, "No siree", he licked his lip, and with wince picked up the envelope, almost immediately the light diminished and he read his name;

""Rinzen "Ryder" Shwartz-Carter""

Opening the envelope he winced as a paper cut caused his index finger to bleed, idly he watched as the paper ate the droplet as it seemingly absorbed into the paper, "Blood magic", he noted and then read out the contents written on the paper, out loud.

"Dear Mr. Shwartz-Carter,

Congratulations, we are proud to announce you have been selected as a student at Hale Academy: Sui De Generis", he blinked owlishly, "What? Where?" he wondered, he hadn't even heard of Hale Academy.

Going back to the letter he blinked as he continued reading;

"We are thrilled to have you and are looking forward to working with you in the months ahead!

Yours Sincerely;

Ms. Danielle Harris

Vice-Principal"

". . . !"

"What in the name of Hell?" he asked and then turned the letter around, frowning at the runic scripture on the bottom of the page, he read it out loud, "Return Home", he blinked, "Return home, where? What? Or who?" he asked thin air, only to double over in shock, as he felt a pull in his navel, groaning at the sudden pain, he yelped as his entire mid-section seemed to steer itself to the left, where the forgotten envelope sat, landing hard he felt and both heard the paper crinkle before everything went out of focus.

He then felt a swooping kick, and what felt like his entire sense of being, thrown out the window, or through a very large hole, the sensation of falling was shocking to say the least—the landing on solid ground didn't help at all.

*

TBC...

"Ow…" he winced feeling everything hurt.

"My sentiments exactly", a whispered groan reached him, before a piercing shriek shocked him and the other person into action, they stood up quickly and turned, only to stop short to see a young woman, short as all hell get out, clutching her towel-clad body with one hand, and the other gripping her own envelope and letter tightly.

She was Asian by descent probably Chinese or Japanese or Korean, who knew. Her hair fell as if mimicking a curtain, shielding her skyclad tiny figure from further perusal, she shivered weakly, eyeing them both warily.

Rinzen moved before he registered what he was doing, shrugging off his jacket, he draped it over her shoulders and she looked up and nodded gratefully.

His companion cursed and quickly unwrapped the thick woolen scarf around his neck, and handed it to her, and "You can use it as a scarf or a skirt", he explained quietly, his voice cultured and definitely not American.

"Where the hell are we?" a woman asked from behind them and all three of them looked up to see a beautiful redhead standing where they landed, she dusted off her skirt and straightened her blouse, "And who are you?" she asked curiously, blue eyes glittering as the light caught it.

Rinzen stopped his companion from answering, "It's customary and good manners to introduce yourself before you demand other people's names, and I don't know who you are, there's no way I'm giving you my name", he answered tightly.

Turning back to the towel-clad woman he ignored the other three people who watched them. "Hey, maybe use the towel as a skirt, zip up the jacket over the scarf, like a makeshift tube top?" he suggested and then forced the other guy to turn around with him, backing her up to a large planter and shielding her effectively, from everyone's sight.

"Who the hell made you the boss?" the redhead demanded.

"Common sense", he answered rolling his eyes, turning to the man beside him, he ignored her effectively, causing her to harrumph, "Hi, nice to meet you. That was really sweet of you, offering your scarf like that", he praised quietly.

The boy was shorter than him, with crisp blonde hair, a golden tanned complexion, startling blue eyes. The poster child for an all American boy-next-door look, and a smile that could light up a football field, he offered it sheepishly.

"Honestly I just copied you, and I, unfortunately, am not wearing anything extra", he said and pointed down at his clothes, a simple T-shirt and boardwalk shorts.

"I wasn't prepared either, but thank God, I'm at least wearing pajamas", one of the other girls said, walking past the redhead and stopping in front of him and his companion, her voice was equally accented identifying her as another foreigner.

"I was wearing sweats too then decided to stop being lazy and covered in chip dust, took a shower, and came back to find this on my bed", he muttered lifting the envelope and letter.

"Did you read the Latin words too? 'Return home'?" she asked curiously.

"Latin?" he asked, "No mine were Runes. Old Norse Runes", he answered showing her his letter.

Blinking down at the paper she shook her head, "I can't read that, it's all blurry", she answered his unspoken question.

She lifted her own letter and he hummed;

"Magic, blood magic, we're being shielded from each other", he muttered quietly.

"Agreed", she said, "Which would also explain why we can understand each other", she muttered.

"You're not speaking English", he stated.

She shook her head, "No sorry", she answered, "I would try, but I learned enough to hold my own in case of an emergency, but I'm not fluent", she answered quietly.

"What I'd like to know is, if we all received this letter, why and who did send it", the only other male asked.

"Or whether they even know we're here", the final person said.

"They already know we're here!"

Rinzen, the skyclad girl, the man beside him, the redhead and the pajama-wearing girl answered in unison.

"How would you even know that?" the redhead asked.

Rinzen stared at her, "You agreed with me", he pointed out exasperated, and then because she was glaring at him, as if he were the second coming of the Anti-Christ, he sighed.

"We, the seven of us, were transported from across the globe, from several different cities and counties and independent islands and sanctuaries. We're all eighteen more or less, we've transported into a room, a foyer of some kind", he corrected,

"That's been marked by sigils, runes, glyphs, wards, Latin spell work and a bunch of other occult symbols like elemental symbols, lunar symbols, there's a triquetra in each cardinal point and about three to four other symbols I can see but can't make out—sorry I don't have owl sight—we're about as caged as prisoners on death row. We all landed with a lot of noise", he reminded her, "A person who's warded his home, this strongly, would notice if a feather landed here. We're seven people, personally I'm one hundred and fifty-eight pounds, I landed hard enough, I felt the impact if the sensations through my funny bone can be trusted, believe me, they know we're here", he answered rolling his eyes.

"Wards?" The skyclad asked.

"Glyphs?" His companion asked.

"Runes?" The pajama-clad girl asked.

"Uh yes", he answered warily.

"I can only see the runes", the redhead stated biting her thumb worried.

"Likewise, but in my case, I can only see the Latin words", pajamas spoke up.

"Glyphs", the skyclad answered.

"Wards", Scarf-guy said.

"I can't see any of that, I can only feel a lot of magic in the air", the man who'd first placed the question stated.

"I can see the elements", their last companion spoke up, "And like him", they pointed at the Last Man, "I can feel the magic or power in the room", they said warily.

"So then the question is are we hostages or have we been abducted", scarf guy asked.

"I don't think we've been abducted", the skyclad answered. "We wouldn't have been invited if we were hostages of some kind of nefarious plot", she answered quietly, stepping out from beyond the large planter.

Rinzen whistled, "Nicely done", he cheered.

The skyclad grinned, "All thanks to the two of you", she answered politely.

Rinzen smirked as Scarf guy blushed but accepted her gratitude with grace, she'd taken his advice with a grain of salt and then some, and had added a bit of feminine flair to it. The towel had been draped around her torso, she'd used a hair tie to pull it into the front and looped it and tied it around her back, he guessed, given that she was wearing his jacket.

The scarf had been turned into a pair of shorts, with 'do it yourself' instinct only a girl would know, he'd have to figure out how that worked later.

The skyclad girl moaned then;

"I was about to have dinner", she muttered wincing as her stomach grumbled.

"Likewise", at least three people answered her, the redhead added, "I'm hungry", she muttered.

"Why don't we go look for a kitchen or at least a dining room", he muttered.

"Would it be wise to step out of this area?" The skyclad asked.

"We can't just stand here and act like cowards, I'd rather be classified a delinquent than being considered a lazy person", Rinzen huffed, "Any way you can stay here, I plan on doing a little investigating", he answered honestly.

"You're such a busy body", the redhead huffed irritated.

"Sure", he agreed and then with an, equally irritated roll of his eyes, ignored her and pocketed the letter and envelope each in different pockets, instinctively knowing unless the letter was inside the envelope, he'd be thrown around the room, some more, or worse. He moved then to his left.

"O-Oi…" Scarf guy called out, "Where are you going?" he asked baffled.

"Exiting stage left", he answered cheekily.

Scarf guy rolled his eyes, "You're a regular old comedian aren't you", he huffed following him, "There's something I need to ask you. Oh my Gods will you wait!" he huffed and jogged to catch up with the brunette.

"Wait!"

Rinzen paused and the skyclad turned around and looked up,

"I'm going to go with them", she answered, and "I trust him more than I trust you right now", she answered her unspoken questions.

Rinzen raised a brow at her words.

The redhead glared, "I haven't done anything to you", the redhead grumbled scandalized.

"But you've been attacking someone in a similar situation just because you don't understand him, that already tells me more than I want to know, about the type of person you are", she stated simply and then turned to follow the previous two out.

"You know, I'm in agreement with those three, you've been attacking him and everyone else, it's not fair of you to do that", the Last man said and the other person nodded as well.

"I'm just… I—don't make me the enemy here", she stamped her foot peeved—actually stamped her foot.

Rinzen cleared his throat and sighed, "Come on, we're in a huge building, looks like a manor of sorts, a little exploring can be healthy", he said and offered her his hand, smiling gently at her.

The redhead paused and then took a step forward; she took his hand and blushed weakly, "I didn't mean to be rude, I was just…"

"Overwhelmed, I understand that", he stated easily.

Nodding she let go of his hand and went to stand next to the others, "Where would you reckon we are?" she asked curiously.

"I'm from Ireland", she said quietly.

Rinzen nodded that explained the accent, "American", he answered her honestly.

"Japan", The skyclad answered.

"England", The Scarf guy answered.

"France", the Last Man answered.

"India", the pajama-clad girl answered.

"Germany", the seventh person answered.

"Are you fluent in English?" he asked the redhead, most translation spells only worked to a certain degree, or at least in a certain place, and since they'd moved out of the foyer, he wondered if the magic was still working.

"Not even remotely, I don't use it a lot, our language is Irish or Celtic-Gaelic", she answered, "Obviously", she teased, "Granted there are many that speak English, but my family is a little… orthodox", she finally answered.

The Japanese nodded, "I understand that very well, it's not that I don't speak English, I just don't have a clear grasp on it like most normal English speaking people do. My family believes languages have magic in them too, and one's attention should only be to their own mother tongue", she answered, "However I speak English, just not easily", she answered quietly.

"I'm English, so I have no problem with the language but I think the problem is my accent", he answered.

"The English accent is sexy though", the redhead answered.

"So is the Irish", Scarfy stated, "But I know a lot of Americans and Londoners' getting confused with what I say", he stated simply.

"I speak English too, but the problem Like Mr. English is my accent too", the German answered.

"I speak Punjabi and English, but it's true my English is sketchy too", Pajamas answered quietly.

"American accents are confusing too", Rinzen answered, "At least I'm guessing", he muttered mostly to himself.

"They are", the Frenchman answered laughing, "I met an American pair in Paris once on a holiday with my mother when I was twelve, I think, I didn't understand a word he said, he ate half the syllables and replaced words with English sounding words, but that made no sense in an ordinary sentence. He was asking us, well his wife more than him, for a restaurant, she kept saying things like 'You have my Tha' and 'a place for a good nosh' and then some words that I couldn't remember even if I tried", he answered almost confused despite it being a memory.

"That probably was a New Yorker you met", Rinzen answered him, "They do have a rather odd way of speaking", he agreed amused.

"Can I ask you my question now?" Scarfy asked.

"Sure Scarfy", he answered automatically.

"Scarfy?! Oi!" he huffed, "Speaking of, why did you stop me from telling you my name?" he asked curiously.

"Names have power", he answered, "According to 'The Law of Names'; knowledge of a true name allows one to affect another person or being, magically. It is stated that knowing someone's, or something's True name, therefore, gives the person (who knows the true name) power over them", he answered at length.

"Exactly", a mysterious voice answered.

*

TBC...