The Conjurer {Draft}

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Kumori must make a decision. Will he meet his fate and become the destroyer of humanity? Or will the one man who has held his heart for over 700 years be the only one to stop fate's course? As a 14-year-old boy, Kumori lost all that he loves in a single night of blood and fire. A single blurred word, written on a piece of scrunched up paper pulled from the hand of a dead monk will lead Kumori on a journey. On this journey, Kumori will discover, kindness, love, friendship, sadness, betrayal, his weaknesses, and finally his one true purpose. One night while defending the person he loves, Kumori discovers a power that he never knew he possessed. The power to conjure a supernatural being from the underworld to fight using his human body as a vessel. However, using this power, came at a price to Kumori, the price was that Kumori aged by two years. Kumori discovers that his power is rare and it was given to him for a reason. The reason being; to bring destruction the world and everything in it. He was created as a perfect weapon by the Dark Prince of the underworld. A weapon made of everything the Dark Prince desires. The Dark Prince has not only made him desirable. He has also made Kumori with a strong urge to please and do as his master commands. There is only one thing that can stop Kumori and save humanity; 'The Key.'

Fantasy / Romance
Emery A Oswilde
Age Rating:

Chapter 1 - Introduction

I exist in a time, in a time where I don’t belong, a time where I have not aged a day over 16. I am cursed with eternal youth. I did not get my eternal youth from a magical fountain hidden in a non- existent place or from the fangs of a vampiric entity. It was a gift from my master, the Dark Prince of the underworld. He built me to be his perfect creation; I’m a weapon of earthly destruction. I am the bringer of death, the destroyer of worlds, I am the last thing you’ll see before your body turns to ash and your soul becomes enslaved by him, my master, the Dark Prince.

I was born in the middle ages over 700 years ago, I have lived and seen everything, plagues, wars, and death. Even now I see the same things unfold before my eyes, just in a different place and time; the once dusty and muddy streets are now replaced with white concrete and tarmac roads. The horse and carts are replaced by cars, buses, trains, and planes. The old buildings of stone and wood have grown to buildings that reach the sky their glass windows glimmering in the sun like diamonds.

I live in a small cramped apartment. Since I have arrived on earth everything has changed. I once had friends, but 10 years have passed since then. I hurt them and I have lost contact.

Now I walk the earth by myself with Ferni in tow. I am the only one of my kind. Believe me, when I say I have tried to make new friends but now I don’t see the point nor do I have the urge to create new friendships, they will all die and I am destined to be their murderer.

Ferni and I move around a lot, as I am unable to age and my master bids me to do as much so that I am unable to create new friendships and form new bonds. At present, I work at the airport as a baggage handler, and my days consist of coming home from work, eating and sleeping, I wake up and do the same thing the next day.

In case you’re wondering who Ferni is; he is my loyal familiar a hellhound from the underworld. He takes many forms, sometimes he takes the form of a Doberman, Greyhound and other times human. Today he is curled up at my feet under my desk in the form of a pure black German shepherd with glowing red eyes.

I think about death a lot, I realise with every passing year I lose my humanity, even more, I feel myself start to hate humans. Soon, I fear I won't remember what it feels like to be human. The darkness has well and truly settled itself inside me now, soon my heart will be overcome by it and soon I will bring my master great pleasure as I start to do as I was made to do, bring death and destruction to the human world and whatever lives in it.

I almost laugh at how ironic my purpose is, I am the bringer of death yet humans have already been bringing death to their own kind since the beginning of time. They kill each other for monetary gain; they kill over land, water, and resources. They kill over pathetic ideas such as patriotism. They fight over religion, the colour of one’s skin, politics, and simply because they hate someone. By killing all humans, wouldn’t I be completing what they have already started?

Even in this present day, in this present time, humans have not changed one bit. Humans fight in wars that they have started on foreign lands, they are not satisfied with simply killing other humans, they have moved on to killing the very earth that sustains them; however, greed is their main driving force now.

Maybe my purpose of destruction is what the earth needs; maybe exterminating the human pest that crawls on this earth like billions of maggots feasting on the flesh of a dying animal is the one good thing this planet needs to recover.

As I write these words, the rain is falling outside, I can hear the drops patter against my window, the hum of traffic and the occasional horn of an impatient driver pierce through the drops. They are all unaware of what awaits them, I smile, they will all be dead soon.

My purpose will be served and then I too will die. I’ll get to see my Father, Alexander, and Jonathon again, my mind will ease and Ferni will be free from his contract with me. I will no longer be under the control of the Dark Prince, I will finally be free.

I was not always like this, drowning in self-pity seeing things through the eyes of a pessimist. In the beginning, before my life changed, I felt love, happiness, lust, anger, hate, helplessness, sadness, loss, I felt everything you have felt. I too was once human.

Even now I feel tiny tugs of the last dregs of my humanity beckoning me back, beckoning me to embrace it once again. I sometimes want to answer its beckoning calls, but I know if I do, I will not fulfill my purpose and I will only anger my master and again prolong my life on this dying planet.

The only thing that can stop me now is the key, the key to the light inside my heart, If I find the key, my story, my words will not perish in a storm of fire and ash It will live on and these words will be my history.

I don’t even know why I have the urge to tell my story. Maybe it’s an attempt at being remembered if my story is found, not for the death and destruction I will bring, but for what I once was; an innocent and naive young boy, unaware of what awaited him in the future. Not the heartless, bringer of death and destruction sitting at his desk on a rainy night, writing these last words, my last words.

It’s ironic, you know, my story started with death and now it is doomed to end the same way.

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