Prologue

Benjamin stood rooted in concentration as he began preparing the ceremony. Candles floated up from a wooden crate and danced around him, he waved his hands, and they moved about him as if attached to his fingers by invisible strings. He snapped his fingers, and, with a poof, one after another, the candles lit up with an angry red fire. The fire burned so intensely that it threatened to melt the wax within seconds. Yet the flames quickly dimmed to a timid flicker under his guidance.

Benjamin directed the candles in slow circles around him, pointing out positions almost like they were soldiers under his command, and they obeyed. The candles floated along to their set positions, resting in small stone recesses and outcroppings. As the candles moved, Benjamin pinned his gaze on the stone floor, pointing at the center of the rounded room with his off-hand, and a gust rolled around him, sending shivers down his spine. Sand shot from all crevices and corners of the room, coming to rest beneath Benjamin's hand as wind whipped around him. He guided the sand, creating an intricate sigil on the floor filled with ancient symbols and languages, the meanings of which unknown to him.

The wind rested, and the last candle landed on its stone shelf. Finally, with everything in place, Benjamin walked to the edge of the room opposite the door and retrieved a beautiful jeweled dagger from a red velvet-lined display case. Placing its cool, sharp edge to the palm of his hand, he hesitated, if only slightly. With a sigh, he pulled the blade across his hand, wincing at the pain.

Blood dripped from his palm, pooling in the air, collecting, and soon began to rush from his hand like a faucet. He choked back a scream allowing only a whimper. The bleeding stopped, and the cut sealed without so much as a scratch. Staring at the mass of blood suspended just beneath his hand, he frowned, wiping sweat from his forehead, and caught his breath.

He quickly snapped out of it and placed the dagger back, locking the case. He refocused his mind and commanded the blood to separate into hundreds of tiny droplets. With a thought, the droplets began to rise, like inverted rain, before stopping well over head height. The droplets started a slow rotation around the domed ceiling, looking like little red stars in a night sky.

Benjamin took a small stone pyramid out of his pocket, embellished with several lines and patterns that closely resembled the sigil on the floor. He sat it on the ground, tapped it once, and all the lines on it lit up with a red glow. The glow radiated out through the sigil on the floor as if chasing the shadows from the room.

Looking up at the blood droplets, he whispered, "stay," and released his hold on them. There was a slight jolt in the droplets' rotation as they began to fall for a split second. The round stone on the floor caught them mid-fall and raised them again, continuing their movement.

Benjamin dragged his feet along the hard stone floor on his way out of the room. His heart raced, and his mouth was terribly dry. What the hell kind of ritual have I just prepared?

At the sight of the tall hooded figure standing in the hall, he squashed his curiosities and proceeded to his teacher. "It is ready," He said quietly, trying to hide his contempt for the man. Benjamin remained in the corridor, silent, as his teacher walked ponderously into the ritual chamber without response.

Benjamin watched from the doorway as his teacher sat in the middle of the room, somehow without disturbing the sand. His teacher sat in a way that allowed for better concentration and meditation. The droplets halted their movement and realigned themselves, some falling to the floor with a hiss, unneeded. The droplets that remained carefully arranged themselves according to the whims of his teacher. Suddenly he opened his palm, and the jeweled dagger appeared in his hand, streaming faint wisps of red smoke. Bringing it close to his lips, he whispered into it.

At the same time, Benjamin quietly brought a smooth stone to his own lips and whispered into it, "Let me hear," as he lifted it to his ear. The rock reverberated with a slight hum until his teacher's voice came through the stone in a soft, almost incomprehensibly small voice.

"I want him gone. Do this, and you can have what you want. Oh, and you can keep the blade."

Benjamin watched, grimacing almost to the point of grinding his teeth. His teacher thrust the dagger towards one of the stars, and it vanished from his hand. All the blood droplets came pouring down, hissing as they hit the floor.

Benjamin threw the stone back into his pocket and ran. Damn the consequences. I'll not let him kill again!