Hey peeps, thank you for reading this story. This is my first ever story that is about something other than people with superpower's (although they still kind of do) so tell me what you think. I am really going to try hard to keep at this one, because I've had a nasty habit of stopping after a few chapters with my other stories. By the way, a few things before we get started. Throughout the chapters, you will find occasions when there are a pair of brackets with the name of a character, a colon, then something, tye: kind of like this. If you imagine that this story is being told around a campfire, the brackets mark when someone is about to say something that isn't very relevant to the story (i.e. a comment about something just said). Also, I will have a short quote to live by at the end of every chapter. I only have a few set up at the moment, so if you want to send me a new one, that would be great. Finally, I do review trades, so PM me after reviewing me with the link to your story, and I'll go see it. And I promise my intros won't always be this wordy. So yeah, enjoy.
Chapter 1: Guardian Spirits
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! I groped around at the bedside table to my left, trying to turn off my alarm clock. Finally, I found the off button, but at this point, I couldn't get back to sleep. I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed in my usual outfit of black jeans, a black shirt that was getting uncomfortably tight, and my signature white lab-coat style jacket, always left unbuttoned. At last, I reached into the top right pocket of the coat and pulled out my rectangular glasses. I grabbed a hair-tie off of his desk and started tying my long, dark green hair back in a ponytail from the back of my neck as I ran out the door. "Bye dad, thanks for breakfast. Gotta' go train," I called to my father as I grabbed a piece of toast from the counter.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" my father called back to me. I backed up and saw my dad holding a diamond ring. The ring was made from the compressed ashes of my deceased mother. It also contained my guardian spirit.
You see, I live in a world where everyone, on their sixteenth birthday, obtains a guardian spirit. The spirit is usually one of a lost loved one or ancestor. They grant their keeper various magical powers in three different forms. Form one is just an ordinary item, usually one with some form of significance to the keeper. In form two, the ordinary item takes on the form of some weapon, usually with magical attributes. In form three, it has one of three effects. It either turns into a physical manifestation of the spirit, it transforms the user and grants them special abilities, or it transforms into a more powerful weapon.
Originally, guardian spirits existed only to guard their keeper. Eventually though, people started using them for sport. They would host great tournaments and have people use their guardian spirits for combat. Of course, medics were always on hand with resurrection potions and the like, in case of major injury.
As people got more and more competitive, they started to become bad sports. Now something as simple as bad sportsmanship doesn't sound so bad, but it led to the potential downfall of man. When they lost, they would be so angry at their spirits that they would banish them. A banished guardian can never return. They do leave a magical imprint on the formerly possessed item, however, and that can be refilled. Demonic spirits are evil, more powerful spirits that have no bodies of their own. They come to people craving power and offer their power, as well as immortality, in exchange for use of their body. Most people happily agree to these conditions.
The demonic spirits are now slowly amassing an army so that they can plot the downfall of all guardian spirits. The only thing standing in their way is the Holy Guardians. Holy guardians are special guardian spirits. They are way more powerful than a normal guardian, their power almost equivalent to that of a demonic spirit. They are also the only guardians capable of harming demonic spirits at all. They also grant their keeper trace amounts of the old world's true magic, but we'll get back to that later in the story. At the moment, I am setting out to train for tomorrow's tournament.
"Hey Aaron, you going off to train?" a voice called from behind me. This voice was Amy Stonewall. She and I share a birthday, so we got their guardians on the same day, exactly two months ago. We have been best friends since they were four. I had had a crush on her since we were fourteen.
"Yeah," I called back to her. I had gotten rather good at pretending I didn't like her over the past two year.
"Can I come?" She said, suddenly right next to me. I had always been amazed at her speed. Everyone could work minor true magic to amplify physical attributes, but her speed never ceased to amaze me. She made a swift movement with her right hand and an intricately carved silver fork appeared, apparently having slid out of her sleeve.
I nodded and we ran off to the field where we had been training lately. I looked over and she held the fork in both hands in front of her. She started to say, "Second state of—"but was cut off by a jet of fire extremely hot, focused fire.
"Hey, what's the big idea?" I yelled at the currently hidden attacker, although we both knew who he was. A boy with short black hair and a wicked smirk walked out from the bushes. The jet of flame retracted to take on the shape of a sword flame like an oversized welding torch. This was Troy, another boy who competed in tournaments, as well as a boy who Amy and I had both hated since we were old enough to know what hate was.
"This is my territory. Leave. Now," he commanded, glaring at us.
I glared back at him, but knew better than to confront him. I helped Amy back to her feet and we walked off. "Well, we have our first tournament tomorrow and we haven't done any training," I said with a frustrated sigh.
"Oh come on! We've been training every day for two months. Missing one day isn't going to screw us over. Now, come on. Let's just go into town and enjoy the day off. We haven't been there in a while, so let's just go hang out for a while," Amy said with a disdainful smile.
Next thing I knew, she grabbed my wrist and was running so fast that I couldn't even get my feet on the ground. Then, about five minutes later, we came to a sudden stop. She was still holding my wrist, so she swung me around, and then tugged on my arm, pulling me to the ground. "Sorry," she said with a small smile.
"It's okay, don't worry about it," I returned a bigger smile.
We lived in rather small town. Bigger than a village, but not quite a city. We slowly walked into town. Still panting from the run (being dragged along at over one hundred miles per hour is very exhausting), we walked into Stonewall Abbey, the restaurant that Amy's parents owned. We ate a quick lunch and sat there talking to the usual guests. At about two-o'clock, we decided to get some sleep and be super rested up for tomorrow.
You see, in addition to basic magic that can be used to amplify physical and mental attributes, there is also still purple magic, or ritual magic. That is all of the classic hocus pocus magic you see in movies where witches and warlocks make potions in great black cauldrons out of various animal organs. The only difference being, we usually use a cooking pot instead of a cauldron, and we just use magic-infused herbs and spices instead of animal organs. The Stonewall Abbey is so loaded with every kind of root or leaf we may need, this is where we come when we need to do some secret potion making.
Fortunately though, this particular potion that we were looking for was already made. We had prepared this potion awhile ago, intending to use it on Troy. "Where is it?" I grunted impatiently as I fished around in the large trunk in the storage room where we stash our supplies. "Found 'em!" I exclaimed happily, pulling out a pair of vials filled with a sky-blue liquid.
We ran home and Amy called, "See you in the morning," as she stepped into her house. I waved back as I ran inside, dropping my coat on a chair in the kitchen and running off to my room.
"I'm going to bed dad," I called, popping open the vial and drinking the potion inside.
"It's only 11 a.m." my father called back questioningly. Of course, I was already asleep by then. Ahh, the beauty of a well made sleeping potion.
Quote to live by:
"Be who you are, and say how you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."