“Runs this city, he does – most of the state. No one messes with him. Not even me,” Fagan added as his voice dropped low. “I would have kept your heart to myself, but the Lonely King would find out sooner rather than later. And though I imagine your powers as a seer – though undeveloped – are powerful, nobody’s powerful enough to fight the Lonely King.”
Though my mind told me that in approximately three minutes I’d be dead, suddenly I was being pulled in by what he’d said.
The Lonely King….
“Not even your grandmother could go against him,” Fagan added.
That – that got my attention. It pushed back the last of the numbing sensation that had frozen my body to the floor. Now all I had to contend with was the pain. I fought against it as I shifted my head to the side, as I ticked my eyes up and stared at him.
“That’s right,” he nodded as if his head were attached with loose string, “your grandmother. Pity she had to die. It would have been a heck of a lot better if I’d managed to get her heart. Then again,” he shook his head, “she was a true seer.”
The implication was clear. I, despite my nascent powers, was not a true seer. Which was completely true.
I was a sad joke who was about to die.
And yet, I could not completely fall to that thought – for he’d spoken of my grandmother.
I controlled myself. “Who’s the Lonely King? Why couldn’t grandmother go against him?”
A grin spread across Fagan’s face as I reacted to him. “Like I said, Lonely King’s the kingpin of this city and more. An old sorcerer king, I hear.”
“A sorcerer king?”
“We don’t get them anymore. But way back in the past, there were practitioners of magic so strong, they could shape history. They were almost impossible to kill, too. Usually, it took a seer, for only they would be able to figure out the consequence of the sorcerer king’s magic and exploit it against them.”
My stomach bottomed out.
“But, like I said, despite the fact your grandmother was a powerful seer – she wasn’t that powerful. She couldn’t take on the Lonely King. And though it wasn’t the Lonely King who got her in the end, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with her demise. Poor woman,” he said, his condolences completely lacking sincerity.
My heartbeat now thrummed hard in my throat, rattling in my ears. It wasn’t just the prospect that the pale can could have inadvertently led to my grandmother’s death. It was the mention of sorcerer kings.
For some reason, those two words had an effect on me – more than they should. I had never heard of sorcerer kings before Fagan had mentioned them, and I could only vaguely imagine what one was.
But my body seemed to understand, and from the exact racing, tearing sensations pulling their way through my torso and rattling in my chest, it was clear that the very concept of a sorcerer king terrified me.
I heard Fagan click his tongue as he brought up his arm and checked his watch once more. “Two minutes. Two whole minutes. We’ve talked about the Lonely King, talked about your grandmother – what else? I should have brought my phone,” he admonished himself. “Good time to play a game.”
I ignored his words and concentrated on the sense that tore through me at the concept of a sorcerer king. A man so powerful he could shape history. A man so powerful that only the strongest of seers could bring him down.
I didn’t have the best of memories. Biographical facts weren’t usually that important to me. Remembered fortunes, passwords, and random facts from TV shows tended to fill my mind instead. So why did it now suddenly feel as if I remembered something about sorcerer kings? As if somehow I’d learned of one before, even met one?
Which was crazy, because before I’d inherited my grandmother’s house, I hadn’t heard a word about magic.
But….
Fagan clicked his tongue once more. “Only 90 seconds now,” he said as he clapped his hands together and rung them tightly.
It didn’t matter, did it? Who cared what a sorcerer king was? I had 90 seconds.
Fagan started to fidget, pushing to his feet, and heading towards the milk crate. He plucked up the sword as a certain kind of grim smile spread across his face.
Though reality told me to give up – to stop thinking of sorcerer kings – my mind couldn’t quite do it.
And the more I focused on that thought, the more something started to happen.
The more a certain kind of sense welled in my stomach. Though it was an odd way to describe it – the sense felt like it was far away. Like I was somehow connecting with some long distant, long past experience.
“Only a minute now,” Fagan said, and I heard the noise of him tapping his fingers on the sword.
I was only vaguely aware of it. For my mind… my mind was focusing on the sorcerer king. And the more it did, the more it pulled me away.
Suddenly, everything slipped away. Everything. From the warehouse, to the plastic, to Fagan in the distance. It all just fell apart, as if none of that mattered anymore, as if nothing mattered anymore. Abruptly, without any warning, I found myself lying in pastureland, staring up at a vibrant, sunny sky.
It was the vision from Max’s magic, but it was unlike anything I had experienced before. It was complete. Less like a vision, more like reality. I brought up a hand, waved it
