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The forest was pitch black, with barely a star’s light slipping through the dense canopy. It was a blackness so dense that even a tiny pinprick of light might be seen from miles away. It should be a darkness that let all the creatures of the night move freely and with ease.
And yet they were silent, as if something was coming, or already there.
A bright light burst to life in the middle of the forest and a man was flung from the nether into the dirt, coughing and spluttering as if he’d just been pulled from the bottom of a lake, lungs desperate for air. Only he was perfectly dry.
He was a bit dirty, with long, silver hair all the way down his back. It was unkempt in a way that suggested it had been growing for years and had never seen so much as a comb, let alone a barber’s scissors. His lean body was tight with muscles that seemed to all be flexing as if the air burned them because he was barely wearing a stitch of clothing. All that adorned his body was a pair of pants that were torn and battered, ripped until they were little better than a pair of boxer shorts.
But what was most startling about the man were the tattoos. Bright magenta lines littered his skin like some sort of strange transportation map; interweaving here and there to form more cohesive clumps that almost looked familiar. His entire torso and every inch of his arms were covered in the glowing tattoos, each pulsing as if they were a window to his very soul.
The light faded as fast as it had come, leaving the Light Guardian, Viktor, behind, crumpled on the ground, clutching at the dirt as if he hadn’t seen such a thing in a very long time.
Gods, how long had it been?
A bright light burst to life in the middle of the forest and a man was flung from the nether into the dirt, coughing and spluttering as if he’d just been pulled from the bottom of a lake, lungs desperate for air.Viktor shivered, looking down at his bare chest which was covered in new tattoos, all entwined with his old ones. He knew they stretched across his back as well. He’d never exactly enjoyed getting his tattoos, but these had been especially painful; a small price to pay for the gifts they had bestowed him.
White light flared in his hands and he smiled down at them, calling forth his familiar and laughing as Makka sprang forth from the nether, just as happy as he to be standing on the earth once more. The large poodle had been his only friend there and she seemed as happy as he was to finally be home, or at least on the same plane of reality as home.
It was all worth it. Yuuri was alive, the pulsing tattoo over his heart told him as much, and now he had the magic he needed to guard the world’s most powerful Dark Seeker. Not that Yuuri would believe him if he told him that. He could feel it even now, Yuuri’s own belief that he’d been the one to fail them that fateful night. Everyone loved to sing Viktor’s praises, but the reality was his powers paled in comparison to Yuuri’s. He’d known it already, but that night had proven it.
Now it was time to make things right.
He looked around for any signs of life, finding nothing but dark woods on every side. Even the sky was mostly blocked out by the branches above him. He had hoped to use the stars to at least determine what continent he was on but supposed that would have to wait.
“Think you can find us a way out of here, Makka?”
Makka barked and quickly sniffed around before taking off at an easy jog, Viktor close on her heels. They had to run for nearly an hour but eventually came upon a small filling station just outside of an equally small village. Based on the architecture, he figured he was somewhere in Eastern Europe which gave him hope that he could get around any language barriers.
He pulled Makka back into himself before he stepped into the station and smiled at the shopkeeper who’s eyes widened as he took in Viktor’s chest.
“A wizard huh?” he asked in Russian and Viktor couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“Am I in Russia?”
“Don’t you know? You’re in Kazakhstan, boy.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you. Let's just say I’ve been wandering for quite some time.” The man looked at him curiously but didn’t question him. “You wouldn’t happen to have a phone I could borrow. I need to contact my associate...” Viktor paused, thinking fast. It was probably better to make it sound like he was contacting someone local rather than the Headquarters half a world away. “Otabek Altin.”
The man looked shocked and gave a laugh. “You're a friend of Otabek?”
“You know him?” Viktor had chosen the name of one of the initiates nearly at random simply based on his origin. What were the fates up to, he wondered.
“Sure do. He’s my sister’s boy. If you’re a friend of his, then you’re as good as family. Come on back.” He moved to a door and waved Viktor towards him, through a small hallway, and into a quaint but neat house attached to the back of the service station.
“I’ll get you something to eat and find you something to wear. Don’t know where you’re headed, but you’ll cause a stir like that. You can take a shower and then I’ll get you set up on the computer so you can make your call.”
Viktor felt his shoulders relax gratefully. “Thank you…”
“Talgot Kaliyev. And you?”
“Viktor Nikiforov.”
Talgot sucked in a breath. “Nikiforov? Well shit; you’re famous.”
“For what?” Viktor asked, brows furrowing.
Talgot studied him. “You’ve been missing for four years, son.” He paused, reaching down to the edge of his long-sleeved shirt, tugging it up and revealing a sleeve of tattoos. “Magic’s in the family, and everyone’s heard about you and your Seeker.”
Viktor couldn’t help himself. “Do you know what’s happened to Yuuri? Does he have a new Guardian?”
Talgot laughed. “I’m long since retired now, but even I’ve heard of Katsuki. Na, he doesn’t have a partner. Refused ‘em ever since you disappeared. He operates solo now. He’s supposedly a thing of beauty to see in action.”
“He is,” Viktor whispered. Talgot patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.
“Rest for the night Viktor. No Guardian leaves his Seeker without a good reason. You’ll need your strength to get back to him. We’ll contact Headquarters once you’ve washed up.”
Viktor realized his fists were gripped so tight his nails were biting into his palms. He let out a heavy sigh and nodded, turning and stepping into the bathroom to take his first look at himself in longer than he could remember.
It wasn’t a pretty scene. His hair had grown as long as it had been as a teenager, but it was matted and tangled. There was dirt streaked over his skin, as well as a bit of blood. But the tattoos were the most startling part. He turned and tried to get a good look at his back. So many etchings along his skin, each with a spell interwoven and just waiting to be activated. Cuts to his body to allow his Guardian’s soul to interact with the world. He smiled ruefully that it took this many seals to make him Yuuri’s equal with his fairly standard assortment of tattoos. Yuuri really was extraordinary.
He placed a hand over Yuuri’s name scrawled above his heart.
“I’m coming, Yuuri,” he whispered.
He scrubbed his body until his skin glowed pink(er) and his hair shown once more. There were clothes waiting for him just outside the door, and he dressed quickly, happy to see that the garments were a decent fit. They’d certainly do. They were nothing compared to the fashionable items he’d favored before, but in light of all that happened in Tucson, he wasn’t about to be picky now.
Yuuri was alive, and now Viktor finally had the power he’d need to truly protect him.
But there was no time to waste. The Guardian realm hadn’t kept him this long by chance. This was a test, the final challenge that must be met in order to truly reach his full potential. He needed to find Yuuri.
He entered the living room and felt his eyebrows jump in surprise to see Yakov staring out at him from the computer screen talking to Talgot.
“Vitya, I see you’re alive.”
Viktor grimaced but nodded, taking the seat Talgot offered him in front of the screen.
“I’ll be getting you that food now,” Talgot said with a kind smile as he wandered off.
Viktor thanked him before turning back to the screen. “Where’s Yuuri?”
Yakov scoffed. “You’ve literally just scraped yourself out of whatever hole the Universe put you in; come back to Headquarters first so Lilia can have a look at you. Yuuri’s on assignment, he should be back in a few days and you can see him.”
“No.”
Yakov hissed a breath. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Viktor flexed his fist. “I mean I’ve left him unprotected too long as it is. Tell me where he is, Yakov. I’m going to him. If you don’t tell me I’ll figure it out on my own, but you might as well save us some time.”
Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a sigh. “He’s in Paris.”
“What’s in Paris?”
Yakov studied him for a moment. “Georgi. He’s got his powers back. Katsuki was dispatched to find out how and bring him in.”
Viktor jumped up. “Are you crazy, Yakov?! He got his powers back? There’s only a few ways to do that an none of them are good.“
“Katsuki is aware. We’ve been tracking Georgi for months. He only just surfaced and if we don’t strike now, we have no idea when we’ll find him again. Katsuki was the only one available I would trust with something like this; or would you rather I sent children to bring down a Blood Mage?”
Of course he didn’t. Most young wizards did simple jobs, like purifying away little ghouls, but a Blood Mage? That would be dangerous to even the most experienced of them. Viktor included.
And that was if he even was a Blood Mage. There were worse ways to gain something that was lost.
Viktor really hoped it was Blood Magic.
“I need a ticket to Paris.”
Yakov rolled his eyes but nodded, eyes focusing over Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor turned, eyes widening as Talgot entered the room, a bowl of stew in one hand, and a small portfolio and a passport in his other, the tattoos on his wrist still glowing. “We had a feeling you’d say that.” He smiled kindly at Viktor, handing him the items. “Eat your dinner and then we’ll get you to your Yuuri.”
Viktor felt tears mist in his eyes as he nodded, quickly taking a bit of the first food he’s tasted in four years; I’m coming, Yuuri. I won’t fail you again.
