Dark Fantasy Flash Fiction: Tristan The Apprentice

Found this bit of dark fantasy flash fiction that I wrote some time ago. After reading the little bit I thought I had to let go, I polished it a bit and found a place in my world where this would fit. If we are looking at a time frame, it would be at least during the Devil’s Spine era, five-hundred years before the Wicked Cat series. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Fire raged all around them as the two figures stood; Tristan seemed more affected by the heat than his foe. Fatigue from the constant strain of magical energy made it tougher to withstand more abuse as well. He inhaled deeply and blew a strand of orange hair from his vision while thinking of another spell to use. His opponent loomed yards away against the fiery backdrop, the purple lined black cape fluttering in the breeze created by weaving magic. “What’s the matter, Tristan, had enough already?”

“I will make you pay for what happened to Mistress Vy, Ellis.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Nightstar!”

Nightstar finished his spell and flicked his wrist, causing an explosion of flame and earth to erupt in front of Tristan. Tristan flew backward and slammed against a boulder behind him. His mind swam in a hazy mix of pain and heat. His eyes flared open as he wove a spell to deflect the next energy blast. The shield’s power flickered under the strain and did not absorb the blow, causing him to drown in an ocean of agony. His opponent laughed as his fingers wove another spell. “I’ll make you a deal, Tristan. It is an opportunity I never gave anyone else.”

Tristan wiped the blood trickling down his cheek, “Go to hell.”

“Trust me; I plan on taking you with me.”

“Vy would be ashamed of you. She spent the last of her life trying to stop you. She demanded I would do the same before you killed her.”

Tristan felt bony hands wrap around his collar, lifting him up as though he weighed nothing. He turned his head away from the horror of Nightstar’s face, rotten and decayed after sacrificing his body to the dark arts. The permanent death grin had become a staple in his persona, much like the smoldering fire in his empty eye sockets. He felt a rotting hand grab his chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Do you think I care what that bitch thought? I should thank her for her kindness in allowing me to learn the dark arts in the first place.”

“What-”

“She never bothered to tell you. Vy gave me a book she found while on one of her epic journeys. Instead of giving it to the Necros at Osiana’s School, she gave it to me. She never had faith in my abilities. I have to thank her for the antidote to my woes; she certainly made it easier to prove to her, to Red and everyone else I was the superior mage.”

“Liar!”

“I’d say to ask her yourself, but seeing as I liberated her head from her body; it’s going to be tough. I still have it, you know. I am sure we can reanimate it-”

A massive explosion of energy erupted from Tristan, causing both bodies to fling apart from each other. While Tristan landed in a heap unconscious, Nightstar managed to regain control of his tumbling body with a quick magic spell and drifted to the ground like a leaf from an autumn tree. He laughed as he snapped his rotten fingers, causing the world to shift around them.

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