7 Dark Halo (Part 2)

In a dark room on the outskirts of Kathmandu, Nepal in the Indian subcontinent, the figure of a child around the age of five can be seen sitting, crossed legged, with five items in front of him. The items were a chalice, a book, a deck of cards, a gem the color of blood, and a bundle of black beadle shells. The child put his thumb in his mouth and bit the tip, causing it to bleed.

"By my blood, I call us to meet," the child spoke as his voice began to echo across the dark. He closed his eyes and opened them again to a starlit expanse, and in the distance, on the edge of the starlight, yells of the lost could be heard, screaming throughout eternity.

"Oh look at this after millennium the laughing magician finally calls on the Light. Well, our service will come with a price."

"Shut it Scarab; I didn't call for the light. Plus, shouldn't you all be worried about how the earth is falling out of reach. I mean the Lanterns just found someone to watch this sector, and I hear he is on good terms with Sinestro," the child spoke to the other side.

"Well if you did not call to see the light, why would you choose to waste a phylactery," another voice called out.

"I've called to give you a warning. My contract with you all will be ending soon."

"You can not escape. If you break our agreement, your soul will belong to us. There will be no heaven nor hell, you will only become one of the lost," another voice yelled out causing the stars to quake. Cracks started to appear on the fabric of that realm, threatening to destroy everything.

"Calm down red; it's nothing like that. I love having basic immortality."

"Then why must thy fore sake an oath. Thus not thou not understand the severity of thine transgressions?"

"Trust me I do. But you see, due to the actions of my idiot son, I'm going to be killed by an infant," the child spoke to the presences as they began to roar with laughter.

"An infant; you the mighty Paris, last survivor of the Trojan war; Merlin's lost apprentice, will be killed; by an infant. Why not just kill it "Oh mighty one"," the booming voice said with such laughter that the lost, for a second had a moment of peace, "What fools do you take us for, state your wish in why you summoned the five of us. We shall grant it, and by our contract one of us shall be released."

"The kid already has some control over magic, and it seems like the world or universe is protecting him somehow," Paris said as he could now feel the voices becoming more serious as he spoke, "The wave has split into a new path," Paris said as his eyes began to shift to a golden hue, "With the birth of twins and the death of a mother, we are at low tide. There is no telling what will come."

"That sounds like the messing of fate," the Scarab said.

"No, Nabu has nothing to do with this. This problem is higher than him. A storm is coming. The owls have chosen their totem, and my grandson is the nexus," Paris spoke out with a sigh, "From what I can tell, with the limited control of the synchronicity wave, I have one opportunity to change my fate. This call was just a courtesy in case, you know, the worse."

"Then end this summons and free me," the booming voice said, "and with my power, we shall change your fate."

"No, free me," the Scarab said, " and everything will be at your reach."

"Must I suffer more, sorcerer I beg of thee, end mine suffering and henceforth together as one shall we be bound, I for you and you for me, tomorrow and tomorrow more."

"Sorry Red, but I heard you had a cult in Gotham now so you will be free in no time," Paris said to the booming voice as it went quiet and disappeared, "Same to you scarab, from what I hear there is an entire country in Africa that sees you as a god."

The Scarab was left speechless, so it flew away into the stars.

"I'm sorry old timer I wish I could let you go, but I need you to watch them to ensure that the pact is not broken."

The old one bowed to Paris and disappeared leaving only a bundle of feathers and the carving of an owl in its wake. "The owls have chosen, when you go to face the newborn, these must be placed within the circle."

Paris picked up the items and made them disappear into his dimension.

"Seems like I can no longer avoid this huh," Paris said with a sigh as he looked over to where he felt the last presence, "I've made my choice. Helen, I know you are there. I'm sorry for what I have done. I knew that all magic came with a price. That's what my master told me when I was lost wandering the world. I knew we could not live forever, so I chose this route for a chance at immortality. By turning you into a phylactery, my first phylactery, I knew I could keep a piece of you forever, by my side. But the hands of fate swing and my hour has come. I can no longer direct the wave," Paris waited but received no response. "Helen, will you no longer be defined by homeland? A face that could lunch a thousand ships will you send one last person to battle," there was still no response, "Fine," Paris said with regret, "in your next life be free, and live past the moment. By my blood, I sever our connection."

Paris opened his eyes and was returned to the darkroom in the Indian subcontinent. He looked down to see that the book was burnt into ash leaving a lingering scent of death in the air.

"So she's gone, I wonder who she will be in her next life? They should push her through because she has been kept from reincarnating for so long. It should take about a year or two. That means if that boy is lucky he should meet her. Fate is funny that way. He is a Laughing magician after all, and we build our lives on luck." He stood up and took in a deep breath and absorbed the aura of death into himself, took one step and was no longer a child. In his place was a handsome well built old man. His eyes were the color of the night sky, pupils the color of the moon. His silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and two silver earrings adorned his ears. The man wore a red fitted dress shirt, covered with a black velvet vest. Long black slacks draped his legs and dress shoes suspended him off the ground.

He packed the rest of the phylacteries and walked out of the door.

*Two*

It has been two months since Anthony has seen his grandfather, but to him, it has felt almost like four months have passed. In that time Anthony was able to upgrade his Synthesis magic into a passive skill. He was able to do this by his best virtue; being lazy. Anthony and Kris understood to survive they had to understand what was keeping them alive in the first place. It took them about two weeks, a month in their time, to figure out that magic is energy. Shocking I know, but it is the simplest things that have the most impact.

By understanding that magic is nothing but energy all they had to do was treat it like energy. They both knew that energy had laws, rules, that govern it and by their nature, Anthony and Kris would exploit those rules. They thought about it like this, why have rules if they were not meant to be broken. Kris reminded Anthony it was so that the universe does not fall apart. But, Anthony directly pointed out its magic, and they couldn't remember all the laws of energy in the first place, thanks Death, so they where only breaking two rules: energy had to come from somewhere, and energy had to keep moving from somewhere with high energy to a place with lower energy; so he believed.

Anthony assumed that he, his body would be considered in the low energy state and natural energy hidden within the world was the state of high energy. All he had to do was move that energy from one part to the other. The problem was he was confident that no one had figured out perpetual motion yet.

The way he was using Synthesis before was, he would connect to the energy of the world, that connection would be linked through his mind, and he would use mental energy to replace and pulled the natural energy into his body to replenish and rejuvenate himself. This caused him to experience mental exhaustion; trading one type of energy for another and the reason he could only do this magic three times a day. All he had to do was figure out how to pull the magic in constantly, creating a cycle. Anthony and Kris surmised that this is why in most movies magicians would use a median to do that for them so that they, the magician, wouldn't be so taxed.

"Fuck this is impossible," Anthony yelled in frustration. "Why would anyone go into science. Trying to create something that no one has even thought off to explain how something works, what crazy person would do that?"

"I'm sleepy, we've been at this for weeks now. I need rest," Kris said with a yawn.

"I'm tired too but we need to get this. We are trying to ensure we live here."

"Okay give me a moment to freshen up. I am a young lady after all." A few moments passed, and Kris said, "Man I feel much better."

"Wait how did you do that?"

"The same way you do it, dumb ass."

"Wait you can use magic?"

"Earth to dumb ass did I not just use magic. I swear I never understood why people ask the question they know the answer too. Just say what you want to say."

"Kris, I love you."

"Woah, that was sudden, I mean wine and dine a girl first before you drop that L word on someone."

"Kris if you can use magic, you could be my median, or we could rotate or something."

"Oh, so you want to use me. I sware. First, you say you love a girl, then you don't buy her food or cakes, but expect her to just put out and go to work. I'm not your bottom bitch," Kris complained but she tried anyway, and it worked to a certain degree.

Anthony and Kris were able to increase the time Synthesis could be used to three-fourths of a day by rotating in and out. However, this left them in a weakened state, and Anthony was starting to miss his companion because all she would do was channel Synthesis for him. So, Anthony began to look inward in on himself and was wondering how Mr. Crazy is doing. He hadn't heard or seen of him since he cut himself off from Kris and Anthony. That's when it hit him, Kris was apart of him and she could use magic, he could use the other parts of himself as a median. Although, from what he could tell it was only one other bit of intelligence awoke at this time, he would use that portion to passively control Synthesis. Boom, passive Synthesis. It was time to put the collective to work.