Within a small community outside of a large island city, lived a small family. The mother was radiantly beautiful, her red hair accented her pale skin and emerald eyes perfectly. She was a home body known for her outstanding skills in the kitchen and her caretaker nature.
A woman well known within her community as a nurturer of sorts, her name was Emily. The father was a large man towering over his wife and son with ease. He had slicked back jet black hair and dark brown eyes. His jaw was strong and gave him an intimidating gaze his name Was Clyde.
The small boy between the pair was a good mix of both. With his mothers red hair and emerald eyes, but his fathers menacing scowl and strong jaw. A runt of a boy at thirteen, only stood about four foot eleven inches.
Their home was a small cottage at the edge of town. Cobbled walls covered in moss and vines with a thatched roof and a large smoke stack. The front garden of the home was radiant with colorful flora and wonderful crops.
Neighbors from all directions would often knock on their thick wooden door to ask for fresh crops and often offered money. Though she never accepted the money, Emily would always allow her neighbors to take as they needed.
To the neighbors it felt like magic how easily she could grow crops. To the family, it was magic. Emily grew up in a community far secluded from the average world. In her adolescence, she was taught the art of scribing runes. Runes, when studied, could've been used to grant abilities for nearly any task.
Runes were ancient markings with unique meanings and translations. If a person studied a rune and its meaning and harnessed their energy into it, that rune could be used to cast a number of hex's, charms, or enchantments.
For example: Emily's rapid growth charm, a small rune drawn along the path of her garden in the moist soil once a week. She'd then focus her love and harness it into energy that caused her crops to grow far faster than any normal garden, and in most cases, larger.
The boy, was inspired by his mother. She was as pure as she was beautiful, and so was her magic. His father on the other hand, wasn't quick to focus any energy on love if he could help it.
He wasn't a cruel man, but he wasn't an approachable one either. A man of few words and even fewer memorable actions. However, his magic was unique unto itself. He had been exposed to an odd chemical when he was in the military.
During a combat practice excercise he lost control of the vehicle he was operating and crashed into a research facility. Inside the facility they'd been developing a unique chemical that could be used to enhance any soldier's mental and physical capabilities.
In the early stages of the drugs development is when it was mistakenly sent into human trials two decades too early. Clyde being the first test subject. The ooze burned eighty percent of his body instantly and caused severe pain.
He was laid up for over a month before his bandages were removed. Apart from minor scar tissue he'd escaped unscathed. Except he was now the bearer of unique abilities he had yet to unlock.
It wasn't until later in his career that he'd learned of these abilities. Sensory manipulation he called it. Clyde was able to manipulate space and time to his advantage. He could manipulate people, memories, and events as a whole.
It could also be used to shroud and hide things that he didn't want found. As well as things he'd been ordered to dispose of. Unlike Emily, Clyde wasn't able to hide his powers under the noses of his comrades. Once it had gotten out that he possessed special abilities he had become a different kind of weapon.
The years of harmful actions he'd taken for what he was told would be the greater good, took its toll after too long. Clyde had a mental breakdown and found himself at the center of one of histories deadliest accidents.
Inexplicably, his entire platoon that shared a base with Clyde were killed. All of them blown apart in a freak bomb malfunction. Clyde was the only survivor. He never told anyone what really happened.
The boy found himself curious about both types of magic. His mother's beautiful enchanting rune scribing. And his father's chemical induced sensory manipulation. He'd found himself studying both intently. Through his early teenage years he'd studied every rune and ancient symbol with any hint of magical essence.
During that time, he'd spent time on military bases and with research teams studying the classified documents of his fathers chemical assailant. By the time he was twenty his runes were perfect. He was so proficient in his rune casting that he could cast any charm or hex simply by drawing the rune in the air, a skill his mother had never mastered.
When he turned twenty five his mother got sick, her magic usage had begun to catch up with her. An event unforeseen by all. He watched on as her beauty faded and her light seemed to flicker. She tried to maintain her smile, but he knew it was only a fabrication. Clyde never left her, day after day he sat with her, her hand in his.
At twenty seven, his mother died, a shell of her former self. Her death took its toll in many ways for both of them. Clyde found himself at the bottom of a bottle more often than anywhere else, and the boy found himself diving deeper into his studies. Almost fixating on the idea of merging the magic and creating something new entirely.
He was away from home more often than not, searching for any remnants of the serum his father was exposed to. He knew it had to exist somewhere, it would've been moronic to dispose of it. Especially after seeing the effects work. He just needed to keep looking.
He didn't find the chemical until he turned twenty nine. On a trip beyond the ocean, and in a place he didn't recognize, he found himself within a secret facility deep below the surface of the earth. It isn't well known what happened within the confines of that facility, but it is stated that the chemical agent was stolen, and everyone inside the facility vanished without a trace. Two hundred and sixteen lab technicians, guards, and high ranking officials, gone.
His studies overtook his life. His casting had become second nature and his runes were perfect. Now he only had one final task to complete in order to harness the strengths of both his mother and his father. He needed to expose himself to the chemical agent, and learn to replicate it, but feared the physical alterations he'd endure.
In the years since his mothers death, he and his father had both grown distant. Clyde spoke less than ever and gave little effort to connect with his son. In return his son paid him very little mind. So little in fact, that upon Clyde's death after suffering from prolonged alcohol poisoning, it took him nearly a week to realize his father's rotting body was withering in the viewing room.
When he found his fathers body, something sparked inside of him, as an idea formed. The purest form of the drug that altered his fathers genetics was in front of him the whole time. A small vial, and a long needle pulled a sizable portion of almost fully coagulated blood from Clyde's arm.
The man gazed at the thick, dark liquid and held it up to the light. Within the glass tube, something living wriggled, barely visible. The man placed the vial in his pocket, and went out for assistance with moving his father.
After the funeral, the boy threw himself back into his research where he formed a new hypothesis. If he had exposed the chemical agent to his blood stream in small quantities rather than his on skin, he'd be spared the scarification his father endured, and could slowly build a slight immunity to the corrosive effects of the drug. He then wondered if diluting the substance with his fathers infected blood would lessen its corrosive nature.
On the eve of his thirty first birthday, he began his own set of trials. He injected a small amount of the substance into his fathers blood. Slowly, over the course of a couple of weeks, he mixed fractions of the substances at a time. It felt like a lot of trial and error before the mixture successfully coexisted.
He watched the blood interact with the diluted serum for another month before it was time for his transfusion. Over a month, he slowly introduced his fathers blood to his. He would introduce small traces of the infected blood with his, and he'd then notate the effects he'd experienced throughout the days. His first injection saw very little change if any at all.
By his fifth injection, he'd began to feel a presence within himself he'd never experienced, as if something had started operating his mind for him. By his eighth injection, he had learned to manipulate small items. He started slow, attempting his alteration on fruits and vegetables.
By his final injection, his hair turned pale white, his eyes went dull, and he had mastered physical manipulation of objects. He could turn an apple into a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower if he'd wished. Though his physical self wasn't altered by the chemical like his father's, the boy found himself changed mentally.
He was paranoid and always watching behind him as if he had an enemy hell bent on killing him. He'd never found peace in his home again. Nor did he search for it. Instead, he gathered his things, strolled through the garden, grew a large field of crops for all of the neighbors, and vanished without a trace.
He went somewhere he was certain he'd be safe, an island of spires in the middle of the ocean. A large collection of tall narrow jagged towers of stone floating alone in the emptiness of the sea. The only man made item for miles was an old abandoned lighthouse in the distance that would still shine its dim glow every evening.
The man felt at peace there, but he feared it'd only be temporary. So he took to work and created a fortress. He used his mothers powers to create land beneath the spires, connecting them into a unified island. Focusing his hope and his peace, he found scribing his runes easy.
He lowered sea levels and enhanced the richness of the soil. Then came his home, from the ground, a tall tower erupted. Day by day the man worked to construct an impenetrable labyrinth. An independent clockwork system overseen by the master magus.
The master magus was an overseer, in charge of mapping routes for him. It would guide him to where he needed to go no matter which entrance he took and how bad his vision became.
The tower grew more each day as he changed its inner workings. Eventually, it stood well over two hundred feet tall. The seperate levels of the tower would rotate at a random pace and in a random order, successfully shuffling the layout of the fortress.
This would lead any and all perceived threats into an array of traps he'd curated. His masterpiece was almost finished. The only thing missing, a piece of his father. He stood along the beach of his new home, overlooking the open ocean with a look of serious contemplation. His white hair strung along his face looking like it hadn't been washed in months. His pale eyes gazing over the horizon as something caught his eye.
In the distance, a small vessel bobbed up and down like a lure waiting for a hungry fish. His eyes widened and his paranoia grew. He knew If anyone had found his solitude, they'd stop at nothing to take it from him. He sprinted as fast as he could through the water, launching his knees through the surface with each leap before it reached chest height.
He lowered his hands into the ocean, his palms facing the sky. Then, he focused his fear and his dread. He maintained that feeling of unease until eventually, he transmitted it to the water itself. His eyes slowly faded and turned milky white. He screamed in agony as a thick black mist like fog rose in a circular motion around his solitude. The cloud encapsulated the island whole and shielded him from the outside world, shooting straight into the sky creating a deadly thunderous vortex.
The safe haven was finished, but the damage to its architect was irreversible. He opened his eyes, and with a bitter smile he realized the world was dark. He was once again at peace.