First Lyss

Rowan took a deep breath. An old tome lay open on the reading table, the unfamiliar incantations inscribed inside undulate like waves on the sea of thick, yellowed pages. Silence filled the dusty room around him in a forgotten corner of a library in Azmarin. He had finally made it to the city renowned for forgery, and the scrawling characters in front of him contained the key. Opening his palms before his chest, he began to chant.

It started as a whisper, his voice breaking from not speaking for hours as he hunted the shelves for this particular book. He reached the end of the first spell, and nothing happened. That was about how he expected it to go. His pronunciation was off, he knew that, he had never spoken these words aloud before. He took another deep breath and began again.

As his voice warmed up the incantation gained momentum, the syllables flowing one into the other like streams to a river. A tingling sensation started in the palms of his hands and spread to the tips of his fingers, lighting his nerves up like stars. His heart rate began to rise as the second repetition reached its end.

He began again, the now-familiar words reaching a fever pitch as black void bloomed between his hands. It began to swirl and swell, stars becoming galaxies, all contained by his palms. The darkness deepened, sucking in the remaining light from around him.

Rowan simply stared at it. He gave it his undivided attention, willing it to remain in existence. It was the most beautiful lyss he had ever seen. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And it belonged to him, and he to it. The darkness stole the shimmer from his blue and orange eyes as he gazed towards it, blending into his dark fur at the edges as it expanded and contracted, a miniature universe. He was held in what felt like a never-ending stupor by its beauty.

The sound of a door slamming abruptly returned him to reality. He lost his focus and there was a brief, blinding flash of white as if the stars went supernova, then the darkness collapsed in on itself, sucked into a black hole and out of existence. Rowan looked around frantically, willing his eyes to re-adjust to the brightness. He saw no sign of anyone entering the room, then wondered if it could have been someone leaving. He will never know. He turned back to the tome, laying his hands gently either side of it. He smiled at the pages, the curling characters now holding meaning.

A new sensation filled him, a feeling of energy, of power.

He had managed to summon the void.