As the sun peeked over the horizon, they began
to chant. The words were ancient, the language long-forgotten. The sounds of
the river meant nothing to them; the animals and the birds were only in the
back of their minds, ignored as they focused their power. There was nothing
left but to complete the sacred words and create the spell that would bind the
land’s power to each of them.
“Levkin,” came the undertoned voice. “We
have to complete the final stanza together.” Levkin nodded as he continued the
chant.
“Luka.” The voice spoke simultaneously in
the other man’s head. “Speak the final stanza with me.”
“Katayeva,” said the voice again at the
same time. “It is time to complete the final stanza, together.”
The four voices somehow became six as the
man in the northern quadrant of the circle spoke three stanzas at once. His
colleagues completed their own stanzas, unaware of the differences; only their
own voices could be heard.
The light in the sky suddenly brightened
as the blue streak crossed the sky far above, moving at impossible speeds. The
four could not see it; their eyes were blinded by the force of the magic they
were bringing into being. But one of them knew; he had made these calculations
carefully, preparing for this day without the knowledge of his comrades. And
now, his secret plans were coming to their true fruition.
The chanting was unbroken despite the loud
thunder, the sound of an artillery barrage. No one in this part of Russia had
ever heard these sounds before, but as the noise intensified, the animals began
to flee from the region. Only the four remained.
Then, the sky exploded.
The blue light became as bright as the
noonday sun, and incredible energies spread out across the land as the meteor
exploded across the sky. The four stiffened, and three of the screamed in sheer
agony as their life forces were ripped away from them. “Grigori!” Katayeva
shouted. “What have you done?”
The fourth man screamed as well, but his
screams were screams of triumph as he felt the incredible power coursing
through his veins. He absorbed all the power of that explosion, and siphoned
the power away from his erstwhile allies as well, draining their own life forces
away and using them to increase his own power.
“This is my moment of triumph!” he shouted
even as the desiccated corpses of his friends withered and collapsed.
He slumped to the ground, his own power throbbing
inside him. The sky continued to flash a bright blue, and the thunder continued
to pummel the ground. Trees were flattened as far as the eye could see, and the
animals that had not escaped were lying spread out in death across the
landscape.
The sorcerer looked up in triumph at the
sky. “I have wrought the greatest magic of human history!” he shouted. “The
world will forever know the name of Rasputin!”
Laughing hysterically, he stayed on the
ground, slumped in exhaustion even as the power coursed through his veins,
strengthening him and his spirit beyond mortal measure.
Far away, on the other side of the world,
the strange lights did not appear, but their effects would soon be felt across
the world as everything changed…
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