Grim moved around the books in his Academy, organizing them by type. He had already filled one book case with demonology.
Many, many years ago, even before he came to Paragon City, he knew his death. It was to be at the end of a sword, in a bower of trees, by a man in red. This was close enough. It was three years too early, but he felt it was over.
As he stood on that shore and looked into the blue eyes of Hermes, hearing him ask, “Do you want to come back?”, he felt the rush of Hades sending minions across the water to fetch him. He wouldn’t go by the ferryman, and Hermes wouldn’t bring him, but Hermes stood with his back to the Styx, between the hordes and Grim – Michael.
“Yes, I want to come back!” Grim yelled at Hermes.
“Then live.”
The next thing he felt was air. Then water, soothing, precious water. It filled his body, calmed his soul, as Hermes placed him back within the body.
No more demons. No more killing, he had promised. But he could still touch the darkness.
It was like when Grimalkin had first given him power. It passed through him, and he directed it where he would. To piss off the demoness who had given him this power, he had first used it for healing, both in Paragon and later the Isles. When Mindstryker asked first asked him how could he use dark magic and not be evil, he had responded, “It’s in the way that you use it.”
Demons killed, rended, destroyed – granted knowledge and power at the expense of your soul. Ben chose to worship a demon for his power; Grim couldn’t stop that. He had decided now that people made their choices. He would offer his services, and if they were declined, he would try to walk away without hate in his heart.
His exes – yes, they burned him. He had hate there too. He admitted: if he saw them on the street, he’d punch them in the face. Even Conan.
He admitted it. The first step of not lying was to admit the truth, no matter how ugly. He kidnapped Jack. He killed entire families for money. It’s the kind of magic he used.
But what if now, he could use his magic to heal? Yes, the dark magic was there, but what if he could convert it to healing magic? Or use it to do good things, like protection or defense? He’d done it already, extending his aura to protect demons or his team mates.
He’d also used the swords, stealing knowledge from dark warriors’ souls in order to wield the blades. He could still do it, though it took him more concentration to keep up his aura *and* grab the warriors’ attention. He found he was left exhausted.
Grim nodded to himself. Yes, he was would continue with the swords. He would use the dark magic for assistance. He wouldn’t be a true hero, nor would he be a real villain. He would do what would be needed to help. But no more killing.
He tossed a book on black magic on the shelf with the others. He pulled out Liber Null, a simple paperback. He hadn’t read that one, but knew it was about chaos magic. He put it in the to-read pile.
Sumerian magic – never even looked at. Beowulf – sexy guy in the movie. Illuminati – Wilson was a nut. Mithra – Jesus stole his story. Kama Sutra – eh, he memorized that one already. Quaballa – too complicated. Book of Mormon – never read that one, either.
He’d read them all, and become a jack of all trades, master of none, just like he wanted to be. But this time, he’d actually teach to help.
Words: 633
Inspiration: Uh…Really have no idea, just random crap.
Music: AC/DC (a few)
Comments: This is yet another bit of grease skimmed from the muse’s cauldron. Maybe we’ll get into the stew now.