Warning: Mentions of death, blood, fire, more death, more death, more fire, ghost, magic, and, you guessed it, more death.
The night was cold and unforgiving as Magnus trudged through the graveyard, his vision blurred by the heavy fog that hovered just above the ground. The moon was full, the wind howling through the area like a wolf.
Magnus came to a stop in front of a small gravestone: It was cracked and dirty, covered in moss with bugs and spiders crawling through the cracks. He set down his bag on the overgrown grass, pulling a bottle from inside of it. The bottle was small, probably held at least eight ounces of the glowing purple liquid. He unscrewed the cap, tossing it to the side as he poured the stuff over the ground in front of him. Magnus took a step back as the earth underneath his feet began to crack. The wind seemed to howl louder than before, blowing through his thin jacket, and it felt like tiny needles piercing his skin.
The fog cleared in a perfect circle around him as a new mist, this one green, rose from the newly formed cracks in the ground.
"Who dares summon me to the mortal realm at this unearthly hour?" The voice boomed across the graveyard, cutting through the eerie silence like a sharp knife.
"My lord," Magnus spoke firmly, not wanting to seem scared or weak. "The time has come." The glass bottle where the purple liquid had once been started to freeze over in his hand, and he dropped it.
The spirit in front of him was quite beautiful, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to have the ability to peer into your very soul at any moment. He had hair that was darker than the night, his skin paler than a vampire's.
"Magnus, my boy, is that you?"
"Yes, my lord. It is I."
"You finally decided to pay your old man a visit,"
"Oh trust me, this wasn't my decision. I'd rather be anywhere else in the world right now. I have no interest in accepting the deal you offered all those years ago."
The spirit floated forward, his almost see-through hand raising to rest on Magnus's cheek. Magnus didn't pull away, just stood there, his eyes cold and unforgiving as he glared at the man who was once his father.
"A disappointment. You just don't seem to understand how powerful you and I could be if we worked together. Father and son, side by side on thrones of bones and red satin, ruling the seven kingdoms of the underworld together."
"I'd rather die than rule a kingdom with you,"
His father only smiled, moving his hand away from his son's face. He turned around slowly to face his tombstone, running his long, calloused, blood-covered finger across the cold stone. "Magnus, if this has to do with your mother..."
Magnus cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "It's your fault, you know. The murders, the hauntings, the kidnappings. If it wasn't for you, none of this ever would have happened. Raphael would still be alive."
"Raphael deserved the fate he got. Ghost hunters never make it. He tried to kill me, Magnus. Twice."
"And he was right too."
The spirit gritted his teeth into a smile. Not the kind sort of smile you gave the lady at the bakery as she handed you a free cookie, but one that a villain might use right before he cut off the protagonist's head.
"You were always so brave," He ran his fingers through his son's hair, which was much like his own. "Like your mother. And your brother, too." He paused, lifting Magnus's chin gently, inspecting his features. Magnus had his mother's eyes, hazel with specks of green. "We both know where that got them."
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Malec Shorts
Fanfiction⚠️ Warning, I wrote these in middle school so they're really old 😭 ⚠️ Just what the title says. Malec short stories. Some are funny, some are sad, some are happy, some are just weird. Most of these are just random ideas I had that weren't long eno...
