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· · ─────── · S T A R T · ─────── · ·
Bubble bubble.
The potion grumbles.
In goes his hair.
The concoction turned blue.
In goes the petals of ivy.
Bubble bubble.
The potion let out a quiet gurgle.
Before the liquid changed into a lighter hue.
The potion is ready.
Chanyeol ardently poured the slimy light green liquid into a small vial—careful not to spill even a tiny drop of potion for every drop was precious, every drop deadly—before capping it with a cork. With the vial still in his hand, holding it like his newborn, he walked to the glass case atop the shelves and slotted it in one of the vial holders. It had been done. After many moons of careful planning and timing, the concoction was ready, available at his disposal.
He looked at the creaking wooden table that had witnessed all the potions he and his ancestors had concocted. Crime and remnants of their past mistakes covered every crevice and an unpleasant smell from all the years of its service reeked from it. He gathered the questionable items on it, discarded them in an old burlap sack. They will be collected by their servants later.
The overwhelming feeling of completing his task without delay put him in an extremely good mood, but only for a fleeting moment. When he went back to the glass case, the slimy light green potion had then turned into a wonderful shade of purple—the change in colour was the final indication that the potion had been done right.
With the heavy truth hanging above his head, he went to their prayer room. Yes, wizards like them owned a prayer room in their castles. But unlike any other religious house, their prayer rooms (or domes) were mostly allotted for one thing: offering and praying to Saint Columba, their patron saint, to strengthen the effects of spells and potions.
The brooding statue of their most revered symbol stood unmoving in the middle of their prayer room, occupying almost a third of the entire space. Beside the statue were shelves and tables that held numerous books, vials and jars, artifacts, and whatever a witch or a wizard might need. In their belief, the longer the item was prayed onto, the more effective it became. Hence, books of spells and incantations were hidden somewhere in that room.
Chanyeol wasted no time and walked to where the pentagram was on the floor and lowered himself down to pray.
Let this work. I will pay my deeds when I am dead.
His prayer was coupled with a chant and ancient spells. He could not risk failing this time because this failure would cost him everything . And if he failed this time, he would not have the guts to do it again. This alone would warrant him a ticket straight to hell, with no chance of being pardoned. But his doom he was willing to accept if it meant salvation of his entire clan.
“. ..deliver whoever drinks it to his final resting place. ”
He rose from the ground as the last words of the prayer left his lips. May the patron saint guide him, and may the almighty lord never forgive him for the heinous sin he was about to commit.
After tapping his knees a few times to shake off the dust that clung to his black trousers, he stepped out of the prayer room and passed by the potion room to grab the purple liquid.
His steps were sure and steady, leading him to Doh Kyungsoo—the receiver of the potion.
Even as a child, Chanyeol had been groomed by his lineage of what his role in their society going to be. Being the only male child of the strongest wizard and witch of their clan, there was no way for him to go but up. It had never been done, but the leaders were pushing for him to be the first archmage in the history of their family.
He wasn’t allowed to grow up with his friends, and instead, he was locked up in a large room, learning from the best teachers the clan could give him.
When he first conjured the awakening spell and perfected his brew of the living dead potion, he was given more freedom and access to the world outside that large room. That’s when he came across people of his age, and in a way, he was permitted to then mingle with them. He was twelve at that time.
At fourteen, after summoning the strongest protecting spell and surviving the enchanted jungle, he was placed in a normal school—a school for all the young witches and wizards in the country. There he met children and teenagers from other clans.
But only one student caught his attention, and he owned the darkest of hair, the thickest of eyebrows, and the reddest of the lips. But he was out of reach because he belonged to the elite mages and by law, only those who belonged to the same class system could create any kind of connection.
The clan where Kyungsoo belonged was where most of the archmages were born, and based on the rumors that floated around, it was not impossible that either Kyungsoo or his older brother would be next in line.
But Chanyeol’s family would never allow that. The chance of an archmage coming from their clan this time was so big, it was hard to ignore. So, the young boy did his best not to disappoint his clan, especially his parents.
Both the wizards shared a few classes but they were never grouped, because even the schools were mandated to keep classes and clans within their own, which meant Chanyeol only worked with either his clan or from the other middle-class clans that were enrolled in the same lesson.
Being in the same room with Kyungsoo though made Chanyeol more curious about the young man. He would glance at him once in a while, observe him from afar, secretly take note of what he was like and what he liked.
Sometimes, he would meet his eyes and shyly they would break eye contact. Chanyeol would then question why was his heart beating abnormally fast. The bigger boy may have been the best at spellcasting but he never had built relationships with other people so his body’s reactions were foreign to him.
The pristine two-panel door brought Chanyeol to the present. It was a door he was very familiar with, having entered it a few times as part of his duty. It was the succession room—a place where the next archmage stayed. In this case, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.
Yes, Chanyeol had been chosen to be one of the successors to the highest position in the council.
How did that happen?
They were amicable, not really friendly towards each other, but Chanyeol was sure he felt something towards Kyungsoo, something he could not say out loud. It was forbidden and might cost him his life. And maybe he had observed Kyungsoo so many times that for some reason, he was almost sure Kyungsoo was feeling the same thing about him.
One thing one should know though is that the separation of classes was so severe that even those in the elite class would lose his or her life once they were caught building relationships with the lower class.
And so, they admired each other silently, oftentimes looking at each other from afar.
Until they were seventeen, the age when the successor would be chosen. Like what Chanyeol’s clan had predicted, his name emerged from the ash, but so did Kyungsoo’s, among other equally skillful wizards and witches.
And to eliminate the least worthy one, duels took place.
Chanyeol found himself standing a few meters away from Kyungsoo, his wand in battle position, as they freely looked into each other’s eyes, not worrying about what the higher-ups would say. They were the last men standing, and this duel would decide who to declare as the rightful successor.
It would have been a bloodbath, knowing how both were great spellcasters and conjurers, and the crowd expected such. But Chanyeol held back, afraid to hurt Kyungsoo, and it was like Kyungsoo could read Chanyeol’s mind because he matched his skill level as well.
The duel ended differently from what everyone was expecting. Aside from a few scratches and grazes, rubbles from the pillars, tears from their capes, and disappointment from the crowd, the young men emerged unscathed.
Kyungsoo was sitting in his corner of the room, going over a very thick book of ancient rules that were banished and amended over time. He looked very calm, beautiful as ever. With his velvet robes, and his hat perfectly sculpted to fit his small-sized head, Kyungsoo looked nothing less than a breathtaking view.
An invisible large hand reached inside Chanyeol’s chest, squeezing his heart until he had a hard time breathing. He tried his best to ignore that, convinced himself that whatever he would be doing was for the greater good. And although he knew it was wrong, knew it was going to scar him until his deathbed (if he survived), it was the only way.
Feeling his presence, Kyungsoo looked up. Like a lightbulb, his face lit up when he saw him standing at the door, and god knew he wanted to return the same smile, to let him know that he brought so much happiness to him. Just being with him in that room for the past years brought him immense joy and the possibility of him not being there anymore would ruin him for his entire lifetime.
It’s for the greater good.
“You’re here!”
He nodded curtly, a small smile peeked from the corner of his lips. Kyungsoo had that effect on him. Ever since he first saw him, he was a person full of wonder, and that drew him like a moth to a flame.
“Yeah,” he replied, trying his best to act normally. “Dropped by because the elixir was ready.” He pulled a small silver box from his pocket. It was sealed and looked exactly what they were used to receiving every year since they started their apprenticeship.
The selection for them was one of a kind, a part of history that will forever be etched in the books. For the first time, two archmage successors were chosen and both would lead the council in the future. Chanyeol was more than happy to be part of the two, giving pride to his clan. He didn’t realise his happiness would be short-lived.
Carefully, he passed the box to Kyungsoo, leaving his fate in his hands.
Kyungsoo opened the box. Inside were two identical vials that contained the purple liquid. They were so similar that he could not even identify which one he extracted that morning. He asked a servant to pack the vials, leaving him clueless about which vial was actually the elixir and which vial was the poison.
He let Kyungsoo choose first and whatever was left would dictate his future. The man’s sculpted fingers passed the glass vials as he caressed them before picking up the one on the right. Chanyeol, for a split second, wanted to yank the item from him, warn him of what lay ahead. But the image of his clan being burned to death held him back.
What was left in the box was the glass on the left which he picked up, hands slightly trembling, and if Kyungsoo did notice how he was shaking, he did not mention anything.
“We are so lucky we get elixirs every year,” Kyungsoo said happily. “The amount of work they give us every year weakens me greatly, do you agree?” His fingers carefully landed on the cork lid, and with care, he pulled out the cork. “Buttoms up? Let’s drink and be healthy, Chanyeol,” he gave him an assuring look, and it took him all his willpower to not walk away from his plan. Because how could gamble away this man’s life? He cried inside, knowing fully well that whichever vial he chose would be his demise. His death or the death of his precious Kyungsoo.
“Yes, we should. Drink up and wish for the best.” He pulled the cork as well, and for the last time looked at Kyungsoo, his eyes baring his soul, his love that he never had the chance to express to him.
“Do you think we will be good archmages?” Kyungsoo asked him one night while they were on the roof, resting after a day of intensive physical training.
A soft laughter escaped Chanyeol’s lips. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine being this close to Kyungsoo. Although they were still tied to their responsibilities, he was more than happy going through all this with him. “You will be. You are the kindest, wisest person that I know.” And in a whisper, he added, “And you are the most beautiful person in my eyes.”
The smaller light punched him on his arm. “Flattery, Chanyeol, flattery,” he paused and then continued. “But I know you will be. You have all the qualities of being a good leader and that’s beside the fact that you are a brilliant wizard. You are selfless, and put your people before everyone else.”
He could only nod. Because he was right.
He would do everything to save his people. Everything. Even poisoning the love of his life. Or un-aliving himself. He would sacrifice himself or the man he was hoping to be with for the sake of the many.
Without having second thoughts, he emptied the liquid in his mouth and swallowed. He waited. For that pain to punch his stomach. But it didn’t come. Instead, the taste of magnolias and green tea spread in his mouth, a familiar taste. It was a sweet flavour but it instantly turned bitter in his mouth when the realisation set in.
His heart hammered like crazy in his chest, and he broke into cold sweats in a millisecond.
“No!” He screamed when he looked up and Kyungsoo already emptied the vial as well, and in a blink of an eye, he was on the floor, convulsing. “Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol screamed for his name when the truth finally kicked in.
· · ─────── · KYUNGSOO· ─────── · ·
Kyungsoo! Kyungsoo!
He could hear Chanyeol’s voice, engulfed in agony as he called his name too many times, but it sounded distant, getting quieter every second that passed and he knew, his last grip on his life was slowly slipping. But he will die knowing he was in the arms of Chanyeol.
He knew about Chanyeol’s plans, and in some way, he assisted him to make sure he succeeded and it would have to be him drinking the poison. Chanyeol left it to fate because he hesitated on just directly poisoning him.
Not long after they were announced as successors, he overheard his father among the higher council in his clan that the other successor and his entire clan would be annihilated for being too ambitious to covet the highest seat that was usually given to the elites. He fed this information to Chanyeol without him knowing that he was the source.
Kyungsoo could not believe how preposterous the powerful could be. And it pained him to know that his father, the very person he respected, was part of the scheme.
Kyungsoo orchestrated his own ‘assassination’, and he started by planting a mole in Chanyeol’s kingdom. That mole subtly helped Chanyeol. He knew which vial was the poison and he just chose it without hesitations. He made sure the blame would never fall on Chanyeol, made sure the tracks were cleaned, and that after his death, Chanyeol would remain the archmage. The council would not survive without one, and whether they liked it or not, Chanyeol would rise to the seat when the time was right.
All because he loved Chanyeol, and he was so hopeful they would be together until they died, maybe not as a couple as the council would never allow such union, but as partners, together at the top ruling over the council. But those in power just won’t make things easy for them. So, in return, he would not let his clan get their way. Chanyeol would be archmage . And he would cease to exist in this world.
The council was still above them, and being successors gave them little to no power yet. This was the only way—to make sure Chanyeol lived.
“Do you think we will be good archmages?” He asked Chanyeol. He had fears if he was being honest.
Chanyeol’s dimple bloomed on his cheek as he laughed. “You will be. You are the kindest, wisest person that I know.” Maybe Chanyeol did not know he heard him whisper, “And you are the most beautiful person in my eyes.” That made him blush and warm inside.
He could feel it. It started from his toes and it made its way up to his waist. His body was getting rigid, life leaving every strand of nerve. But before it could reach his head, he heard Chanyeol’s voice again, sobbing, “ Kyungsoo…I love you… ”
He knew. God, he knew they were in love with each other, and hearing it before he departed was enough for him. He would die peacefully knowing he did.
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