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He Who Would be Master

He Who would be Master

Introduction

Magic is real, in forms many and varied. Magicians by their myriad names: Sorcerers, Witches, Shamans, and every type of "-mancer" out there are but a fraction of the types of the Powers that Be. In this world, where things go bump in the night or worse, humanity is almost willfully ignorant of magic or the forces that prey on the human condition's extremely primordial nature. The wizards and miracle workers of yesteryear are those humans who have evolved, in a sense, to open their eyes and grasp the living tool that is magic. They call this experience Awakening. Nowadays, those who practice true magic do so in secret, away from those who can Disbelieve with such force that magic itself unravels under such scrutiny, and sabotages the works of wonder in very dangerous ways. That is the world we live in. That is the power we wield and the price it levies. For the most part we are, and must remain, separate from the conscious minds of humanity, who Sleeps in ignorance.

Prologue

He was young, too young, to have been bestowed with such a terrible gift. From the day he was born, he could see Them. They took on various, odd forms. As a child, he was afraid of some, but happily played with others. His parents thought he just had a vivid imagination, or that he had strange imaginary friends. He got older and realized that They were not apart of this world. That things happened to disrupt his life and the lives of others around him when They were near. At around this time, his parents grew concerned. "Why did he not outgrow the imaginary friends and make some real ones?" They wondered. "Why can only I see Them?" He wondered in turn. "They ARE real... Aren't they?" That's when things turned bad. They began trying to hurt him. They began saying scary things about how there's something good in him that they want to get out. They tried all sorts of things to get it out of him. They lead him to quiet, out of the way places to make him lost. They used animals and people and cars to try to break him open to get it. The worst part of these attacks were, when he managed to escape, no one believed him. They muddled his mind and told him that boogie-men,-cars, and -dogs were all in his head... So he stopped telling. He stopped caring. They called him names. One in particular tugged on his subconscious, like a deja vu: "Kaard," they cooed...

Chapter 1

He sat up, in a cold sweat. He groped under his pillows for his phone. He checked the time; half an hour before his alarm was going to go off.... Ugh, dammit.

He scrunched back down to shelter in the chest of the man next to him. It was too early, too dark, and too cold to try really waking up.

"You're sweaty..." Thick arms wrapped around him. "The dreams again, Sir?"

"Yeah, baby..." He pressed his nose into his man's chest hair, nuzzling that fleshy valley. "They're more real now..."

"Please... It's time for you to see the doctor... What if you start to see--"

"I'm fine!" He growled. "I'm okay... I know what's real, what isn't. They aren't real..." He sounded scared. He was scared. But Angel had been there. Angel was enough to be his anchor. He didn't need the drugs. He couldn't take the humiliating treatments or counseling sessions. If Angel was with him, he could retain his grip without all that.

"Boi... Get breakfast on...." He rolled over, turning his back to his Angel.

"Yes, Master..." Angel didn't so much kiss his man, but lipped the nape of his neck like a horse. Making him stifle a giggle. In the past, that would have earned Angel some unequally harsh punishment. But... A year after the two met and took up Leathers... Well, this much can be let go. He smiled at the fair-skinned, blonde-furred ass of his lover. Angel was big and fuzzy as long as Othello had known him. A striking contrast to his own African-dark features and lean build. It was just as Othello liked it. Husky/muscular men make the best bitches... Waking up this much earlier than he had to was annoying, but as Othello ate, he smiled because Angel had just dropped to the ground to begin morning push-ups. Angel earned a feigned-kick when he looked up and winked at his Master's stare.

He was about halfway through breakfast when his alarm went off. Classes started early at Fortuna University.

The sun was just starting to crown the skyscrapers. His bag was slung heavily over his shoulder. Today was already really crummy, and he hadn't even touched sunshine yet. It was always like this when the fog rolled in. Once a month, and without any warning from weather man, a white fog rolled in, casting everything into a hazy pallor. Along with the mists came a filmy layer of dust over everything. These things were mostly innocuous. On their own. But they always brought Othello at least a little dread.

He was the only one who saw them. They were a part of his condition. The delusions he knowingly labored under. And as a child, these were the days when They hurt him the most.

As an adult, however, it was more of a nuisance. Since moving downtown in high school, after he completed his treatments, he saw actual Boogies less and less, and rarely saw them at all nowadays. But the fog, the dust? Those seemed altogether incurable.

Angel had once stated that it was almost like Master's period. The two did not speak for weeks after that.

Almost as soon as that memory crossed Othello's mind, his phone went off with a text from his Angel: "Happy FogW33k, my Master. Much love <3" Othello smiled and carried on his commute with a renewed bounce in his step.

* * *

The classes were routine. Discussion, papers, and labs that demonstrated what was being discussed. Kaard liked these classes, despite the monotony. Whether it was the intense focus, or the unrelenting logic of the classes, places where science happened were less Dusty or Foggy than most other places.

That did not stop the curriculum from being mind-numbingly boring. He had figured out how to absorb enough knowledge, and then demonstrate that knowledge to stay in the program. Much to Dr. Kailin's frustration.

"Mister Montague," The portly silver-haired, round-faced man blustered loudly. Obviously, he thought he'd caught Othello off-guard. "Within this example, taking in the evidence we've discussed thus far, what might you suggest to rectify our current population shift?"

Othello respectfully closed the manga he was reading. It was amusing that the teacher neglected to state what the shift actually was: a certain species of sea-star was, in the example experiencing a population boom, endangering the local coral, and the the reef at large.

"We know that the harlequin crown is a newly discovered species. It stands to reason that either they rapidly evolved from the crown of thorns starfish," he began, "or was a rarer genus that is experiencing a resurgence. Either way, its appearance is in direct response to the environment. It has few natural predators that don't also harm other species. That is our 'predicament'. We should ask ourselves whether or not the harlequins have any uses in other environs, and how well they can be introduced to them. Everything has a role, after all. But once that is ascertained, I'd suggest introducing a microorganism to target the harlequin reproduction, either its eggs/young, or the reproductive processes themselves. If we could force them to reproduce exclusively by budding, it would slow their feeding over time."

Kailil snorted. "You know full-well the unpredictable nature of that route. And you could rattle off the possible consequences. Do me the kindness of acting like you're paying attention. Put the comic away, Mr. Montague."

Othello gave his sweetest smile, nodded and returned to his computer... to continue reading his manga online.

* * *

Campus hosted lots of little cafes or offshoots of bigger chains. Othello had chosen to shelter in one of the sandwich joints from autumnal chill. He had fully opened and reversed his lappy into a tablet. Stylus in hand, he began to draw some of things he'd glimpsed today. It helped to sort of purge his mind of Them to get the strangeness he glimpsed from his own memory and into his computer's instead. It was somehow purifying.

"Tell!" A familiar voice accompanied the form that fell into the chair across from him. Neil was one of the few friends Othello wanted. Not just because he seemed to cut a swathe through the Fog somehow, either. Neil was a genuinely fun kind of guy in Othello's mind. He didn't mind Othello's introversion, nor his sexual lifestyle. In fact, the latter seemed to fascinate the second-gen Indian immigrant in a way that could be described as dorky. A straight man, Neil just seemed to have a deep love for the fringe elements of any society he touched.

He couldn't care less that Othello was a faggot. He was more thrilled at the thought of BDSM, and the unique dynamics brought about by such relationships. Othello, on the other hand got to come out of his shell with some confidence, Got to play the showman for once.

Presently, Neil had his own laptop -- a larger, much more powerful model than Othello's convertible notebook out and open to the same manga Othello was reading during lessons. They maintained a sort of private book club over ongoing manga series. "Tell! Can you believe this shit?! A brother! Out of fucking nowhere like that? Honestly, this is just jumping the shark!"

"You think?" Othello sipped at his honeyed mint tea. "I mean, the Watatsuki family had been collecting dust as a plot device for long enough, right?"

"Sure! But what made them so great was how unreachable they were! Like fucking Cthulhu!" Neil shook out his multitudinous beaded braids in frustration. "But now they're just throwing out the Patriarch, front and center? SMH..." Yep. He speaks internet/text. If he could, he'd probably speak emoji.

"Granted, that the brother we heard nothing about runs, like, everything is a bit heavy handed, but..."

"BUT IT'S A BS COP-OUT!" Neil cried out in melodramatic anguish. The startled glances didn't phase him much. "It's just a way to draw out the story by drowning us in questions!"

He was just about to respond when the fog shifted outside the window. A shadow moved, disturbing the mists.

"What's up, man?" Neil's eyes couldn't spot the, bulky shadow.

"Shh..." Othello whispered. He fought down the chill crawling up his spine.

The shadow seemed to grow closer. The wandering movements made him think of some animal trying to scent the air. It grew steadily closer to the window. Othello thought it moved like a monkey, but it was slow, lumbering for its size. Like a pygmy gorilla.

It came into view, parting the mists like a solid curtain, and Othello's blood went icy.

He'd never seen a Boogie this big in years. It was a stony thing, in both color and texture. Concrete scales gave way to sculpted cement feathers of what should be two wings. But what was left of the right wing was transparent, like dirty glass. It was visually crumbling into dust as Othello watched, like the wear of time sped up exponentially. It was... dying?

What might have become pity for the thing evaporated as it locked eyes with him.

"Fuck...!" Othello, trying to mask oncoming panic, fumbled to pack everything up, ignoring Neil's concerned questioning. "I gotta go."

"Dude, your coffee...?"

"I've got to go!" Othello snapped and walked briskly to the door. As soon as he was outside, he broke into a sprint. He had to get home. He was relapsing. The monsters were back!

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the gargoyle bounding at him with a dog-like sprint. It didn't get far however, as the glass spread to consume its entire shoulder, snapping its arm off with a bright shattering sound and a decompressing cloud of fog. It gave a piercing cry of agony. It thrashed and sobbed.

And swore.

"No! No, Father's Eyes Above! I was so CLOSE, DAMN YOU!!!"

Othello stopped, taking shivering breaths. "You... You can't have me..." He shivered, through gritted teeth. "You aren't real... I'm n-not afraid of you!"

"Of course I'm real..." it had stopped thrashing, seeming to bleed fog from its crystallized wounds... The throbbing stone gore turned Othello's stomach. He could almost feel the stabbing shards grinding into his own flesh. "As real as you, Liege..."

"No... You..." Othello took deep, shuddering breaths, exhaling fear, and inhaling pride. "You... are a mental weakness... You are NOTHING to me anymore! I can't see you... I won't see you..."

As he spoke, the fog began to move, then roil like a storm cloud. The gargoyle saw this, and turned wild eyes to Othello.

"Liege! KAARD! Wait, PLEASE!!--"

"DISAPPEAR!!!"

The fog suddenly converged on the gargoyle like a crash of thunder. Somehow with force nowhere near possible, it smashed the gargoyle to smithereens. But Othello's astonishment was short-lived. Pain sank claws into his spine at the neck and tailbone, doubling him over backwards. Fireworks burst behind his eyes. His head hit the pavement, and everything went black.