Fated

I nearly stopped then. Even though I’d been awaiting it, that simple wooden door sent a stab of fear through me that made my limbs grow heavy, and I stumbled. Only the memories of Luna and Shireen kept me going. A little bit of me screamed and ran. The rest kept walking. I pushed the door open.

The room inside was different from the rest of the mansion – it was clear and detailed, a perfect replica. A fire burned low in the fireplace, merging with the dim lights to shroud the room in gloom. The floor was covered in a thick, soft carpet, muffling sound so that it took me a second to realise that the fire made no noise. Books on shelves lined the walls. To the left was an oaken desk, covered with papers. My eyes flicked to the armchair behind the desk, but it was empty. A pen was laid upon a scattering of papers, its cap still off. Although the room was silent, it didn’t feel empty. It felt as though something was waiting for me.

On the opposite wall, ten paces away, was another door. It was ajar just a crack, and a sliver of light spilled through. It was swallowed quickly in the gloom, but that patch before the door was the only light in the darkness. The sense of something watching was stronger, but the door was right there in front of me.

I stepped forward, and—

The schoolyard was damp and cold, grey skies a reminder of the rain already fallen and a sign of more to come. Despite the damp a scattering of teenagers were in the yard, boys bragging and laughing while girls looked on and giggled. One boy was standing apart, leaning against the wall, arms folded as he stared. He was in his mid-teens, with spiky black hair … and he was familiar, too familiar. Looking at him made me pause, confused. I knew him, but—

Then all of a sudden it clicked into place. I was looking at myself, eleven years ago. The boy leaning against the wall was me, and the building looming into the grey sky was my last school. With a rush the memory came back. I remembered this day.

Muffled footsteps on the concrete made my younger self look up. A man was approaching, an ordinary-looking man with an ordinary, forgettable face. The kind of man your eyes flick over without ever really noticing. ‘Hello, Alex.’

‘What do you want?’ my younger self said.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to be somewhere else instead of in a school I hate with a bunch of bastards like them.’ The younger me jerked his head towards the children in the yard.

‘Is that all?’

‘It’s a start.’

‘And then?’ The man tilted his head slightly. ‘What if you could have anything at all? What do you really want?’

My younger self looked up in surprise. He’d been play-acting, not expecting to be taken seriously. ‘Okay,’ he said, and I knew he was paying attention. ‘What I really want? I want to be so powerful that I don’t have to care about idiots like them. I want to be so far above them they can’t even touch me. Can you get me that?’

The man looked back at him, and then suddenly smiled, an amused smile that didn’t touch his eyes. ‘Yes, I can.’

The younger Alex stared at him. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Richard Drakh.’ He kept smiling as he looked down. ‘But you can call me master.’

—my foot sank into the carpet. I looked from side to side, confused. The room was empty, quiet. But I hadn’t imagined it. That had been the day I’d met Richard for the first time, as real as when I’d been there. To one side, the fire burned; to the other, the chair sat empty. Cautiously, I took another step—

The living room was warm and still. Richard was sitting in an armchair by the fire, and around him four children made a semicircle. The two girls were on the sofa, side by side. Shireen had been braiding Rachel’s hair and now was watching with a frown, while Rachel was wide-eyed and curious. The younger me was in a smaller armchair to one side. It was only a few weeks after that first meeting with Richard and I looked much the same. I was sitting with my feet curled up underneath me, and the position gave me an oddly child-like look that was out of place with my sharp eyes. And leaning against the mantlepiece, slightly apart from the others, was Tobruk, the firelight catching his whimsical smile.

‘The True Path is power,’ Richard was saying. His voice was deep and magnetic, powerful; no one who heard him speak would ever think him ordinary again. All four of us were staring as though hypnotised, caught up in his words. ‘Power to build and power to destroy. You have your magic, but true power does not come merely from being born with the gift. True power comes from one place only: your inner self. Strength, determination, force of will: these are what distinguish a Dark mage, a True mage, from a dabbler. To be willing to rise higher or sink lower than your enemy, to know that no one is above you … that is the True Way. Your greatest enemies are fear and compassion. Both are weakness, and weakness is death.’ Richard’s eyes swept slowly across the four of us, from Rachel to Shireen to Tobruk to me. ‘I do not expect all of you to succeed. Some will prove weak, in body or mind or will, and if you have a weakness I will find it. But those of you who earn the right to call yourself Dark mages, who become disciples of the True Way, will be power incarnate. Lessers will speak of you in fear and envy. No one will be able to stand against you, and your words will be as the voice of God.’

The room was silent. Then Tobruk stirred. ‘When do we start?’

‘Now.’

I was back in the study. Looking around, I saw I’d taken only two steps across the floor. I was seeing my life as Richard’s apprentice, a step at a time. I didn’t know how long had passed, but I knew I needed to keep moving. I stepped forward again—

This time I was ready for the shift. I was looking at myself, Tobruk, Shireen and Rachel a few months later, back in the living room but without Richard this time, talking and planning. It was our first assignment and we were working together, but I didn’t listen to the voices this time; I made my body take another step forward.

The scene blurred and steadied. Now we were outside, the setting sun painting the red rocks of a sandstone canyon. ‘This was your idea,’ Tobruk was saying, bored.

‘But …’ My face was uncertain, frowning. ‘We don’t need to do this.’

‘So?’