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Guide

By Lan the Orc

I have heard many stories of first times that were filled with happiness and a sense of accomplishment, I have seen my share of trideos following that trope too, perhaps that's why I thought that was the way it would go with me too, that one day I would get powers and everything would be better. Boy was I wrong. The first time I used my powers there was nothing happy about it, no, I felt down right awful. My tusks had just started to grow back then, bringing a whole world of pain with them, of course, school had not taken that as an excuse and my grades were a proof of how good pain and focus got along; to top it off, I had been left alone with my sister to watch over me. Me, an ork that looked old enough to be her boyfriend and with enough muscle to bench press her with ease. It felt degrading, dismissive, offending. It had all been a perfect recipe for disaster.

It all started with a fight, I can't no longer remember how it started or what it was about, heck, I'm sure it was something stupid, I did a lot of stupid things back then. But what I'll never forget are the screams, the glares, the pounding headache that made me wish my head would explode already. I had been on the other end of the room, pacing like a trapped beast, with a sofa as the only buffer between the two of us; my fingers rubbing my temples, trying, to no success, to placate my headache; each shout only made it worse, the pounding growing louder in my ears, drowning her voice. Fire burned my throat, an unsettling pressure expanded inside my chest, like a globe that's being inflated. It scared me, but I couldn't show it, my sister would worry, my parents would worry and we didn't have the money for worry. So I just growled. She had shouted something at me then, her voice already rough after our earlier shouting match; her brows set in a judging scowl, her eyes shining with fierce stubbornness. It had all happened so fast, a snide remark had pierced my defenses and struck home, a new kind of pain awakening in my heart. My body had grown stiff and my growl had died in my throat; for a single moment there wasn't a single thought or emotion in me. It was peaceful, comforting, addicting. Then, a wave of anger burned through my body, a haze of red filling my vision, my growl returning in full strength. I half screamed half growled at her, my hand cutting through the air in defiance. A flash of blue filled my vision, followed by a loud thud; the piercing smell of ozone hanging thick in the air.

My mind refused to take in the sight before my eyes, my sister no longer stood in front of me with her angry face and biting words, instead she laid crumpled on the ground, her body curled in on her self and bits of red paint sticking to her blouse. My mouth went dry, a sour taste filling my mouth at the same time a heavy weight settled on my stomach. My legs failed me then, my knees hitting the ground with a dull thud while I clutched the guilty hand close to my chest, a trail of whitish smoke coming from my fingertips. A deep growl left my throat, full of hate and anger, all of it directed at myself, but there was also fear, fear for my sister and fear of me, of what I could do, of what I had done. Warm trails of tears fell down my face as I pondered what to do, wave after wave of nausea hitting me with each breath, the ozone in the air reminding me of what I had done. I don't know how long I laid there, frozen, my heart running wild with emotions. But eventually, I forced my body to crawl towards my sister. I swallowed hard at the sight of the dark mark on her yellow blouse, the smell of burned flesh making me gag; her body lay still but for a slow rising and falling from her chest, it was strange, unnatural, scary. And it was all my fault.

A new wave of nausea, forced me to lay on my side, my sinful hands cradling hers, the cold of her skin sending shivers down my spine. I cursed myself, cursed my luck and that she had paid the price.

"It should had been me," I thought as I looked at her face, her bronze skin looked pale and lifeless, like a broken doll, "I should be the one on the ground."

That single thought stuck on my head, haunting my mind, setting aside everything else. There was only the thought and my will. Once more I felt a sudden rush of energy feeling my body, it was as if a dam had been broken and the waters ran free once more. I looked at my sister once more, the memory of her strength hanging heavily on my heart as I took the plunge. I let the thought consume me and freed the energy into her body, spikes of pain coursing through my body as I felt my skin break and burn over my chest; my muscles tingled and spammed uncontrollably before I lost all feeling in them. Life slowly came back to her skin as darkness haunted the edges of my vision, consuming it until only a sea of black remained and my body gave out.

I woke up days later in the hospital, my body aching with old pain and heavy with exhaustion. For long minutes I wondered where I was and what my family would think of it, I hoped against hope that I wouldn't lose them. A teary eyed mother and sister soon arrived there, pulling me into a big family hug and repeating it when dad showed up, dispelling all my fears. They believed it had all been a freak accident, an appliance that had gone haywire, a cable that was badly insulated and for the following weeks, they were there to help me recover. But I knew the truth, I could feel it deep in me from the moment the meds wore off. A simmering fire, a fountain of power that hadn't been there before. It was tantalizing, the power to do everything I had seen in trids at my fingertips. Except it wasn't like trids, it was wild and dangerous, untamed and waiting for a weakness to explode into the world.

I knew I needed help, a mentor, a guide, even a friend would help. But it wasn't easy to find anything on the matter, you couldn't just put "I almost killed my sister with a lighting bolt" on a search engine and expect honest results. Those were some horrible months for me, between the growing pains and my newfound paranoia I barely got any sleep or hung out with my friends, I couldn't risk it. It was one of those days as I was laying on my bed, chatting with a friend to pass the time, when I got my lucky break. It all started like a game, a dare that Daniel, that thick headed troll, put me up to. A new app had become the word of town, fabled for its ability to let you enter the supernatural world of mages and dragons, well, to help you enter it more fully than our corporate overlords allowed. I was wary at first, my only brush with magic hanging heavy on my mind, but I was also desperate.

I quickly downloaded the app and the moment it was ready, I clicked it open. A flurry of light crossed the screen, a rainbow of colors filling every inch. Then it turned black, the words "Spellbound" moving down from the top till they rested at the middle of the screen. A flurry of symbols, blue as the tittle appeared below it, soon forming a rotating circle before the words "Enter" appeared on the circle's center. I let out a chuckle, the whole dramatic flair of the air already lifting my spirits. My finger touched the screen, selecting the only option; the moment I did, electricity ran up my arm, familiar, dangerous, real. I dropped my comm, my breaths grew short as memories of the accident flashed through my mind. A shrill tone pierced the room's silence as a bluish glow emerged from the phone to form a perfect circle in front of me; images soon forming on its surface, showing glimpses of strange forms and colors. First there was a hound, fierce white fangs looking my way, only to be replaced by an elderly lady, her form clad in shadows; a fiery bird came next, its wings opened wide, followed by a ivory skeleton. Hundred of images flashed my eyes, their forms calling to my very being, urging me to choose them. And yet, something kept me from doing so, my hands remaining steady at my sides until I saw her. Horns of ivory white, fur of golden yellow and eyes both kind and determined. My hands moved before I could process what I had seen, touching the screen with the tips of my fingers. Twin streams of green light came from the screen, surrounding my wrist until it became a ring of energy.

The screen flashed twice, growing larger until a ghost-like minotaur lady stood in front of me, an approving smile of her face. Her hands took hold of my wrist, their touch warm and light, golden rays poured out of hands, casting the room in ethereal light. When she removed her hands, a band of interwoven roots laid on my wrists, its touch reassuring and familiar, it was brimming with magic. She looked at me one more time, whispering her name into my very mind before she vanished in a whirlwind of winds.

"Alacea" was her name, and that day she became my spiritual mentor.