Between Darkness and Chaos
an excerpt

For people reading this excerpt, myse=magic, it's just my world for it. Rhyn is a wizard stripped of all powers due to a blunder he caused in his past. He now is a psychologist, private practice. In the beginning, one of Rhyn's clients tried to kill himself in his office. The boy was called Dennis. This has caused Rhyn to come under scrutiny by Kasun, a Raythe warden ( elite guard). Kasun gives Rhyn a choice, to come with him and assist in an interrogation, or be stripped of his job. Rhyn chooses to help.

Here, Rhyn has arrived at to see a young man who once was a client of his and who is also held prisoner by Kasun and his wardens...

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St. Luke’s Catholic Church had been stripped to the bone; graffiti, broken pews and cracked stain glass lessened the sanctity it once held. The air smelled like mold and wet wood. Rats scurried to darkened corners and cobwebs hung in drifting strands. There were papers scattered where the organ used to stand, the music clefs and torn edges suggested they had once came from hymn books. Rhyn clutched the photo in his hands and shivered in the chill. People had used this place to worship the Creator; every corner had once held their songs and prayers, but now it housed only memories–and myse.

The air was thick with it and the energy created a silent hum that made Rhyn’s teeth vibrate. Raythe wards were everywhere: in hallways, on doors and over the windows. The Order's wardens had all four elements at their disposal, and most wards they created were complex structures. Kasun was dissolving one now, a column of solid flaming rock that blocked a small hall in the back of the chancel. Golden light flared and the ends of Kasun’s jacket flipped in the energy wake. His brow furrowed in concentration. A cracking sound echoed through the church and Rhyn flinched. The photo crinkled in his hand. He let out a little yelp and smoothed it immediately. He glared at Kasun as the stone column crumbled into ash. Kasun turned and did his customary wrist flick for Rhyn to follow. Every time he did that, it made Rhyn clench his jaw. His jaw ached considerably.

“Hurry up, doctor.” The Raythe’s eyes glinted green fire, a sign that the myse in his blood was high. “Keep dawdling, and your son comes home to only his mother.” Rhyn scowled and hugged the photo to his chest. Kasun narrowed his eyes to slits. “Don’t you want to see him?” he said. It wasn’t his son Kasun referred to. Rhyn came forward with a sigh.

Before they had left for Detroit and before he had climbed into Kasun’s dark Sedan, he had left Sam a message on her cell. He had told her he was booked solid and it was unlikely they would see each other for the next day or two. "Passing ships in the night," his wife would say had she answered. He hated those days himself, but now it worked in his favor. Next he called his secretary, Anne Baker, and told her to clear his schedule for the week and to take a vacation on him. He didn’t mention Dennis and neither did she. It unsettled him. Anne had been the first on scene that morning; she had been the one to call 911 while he kept Dennis from shoving the pencils into his brain. He remembered her pale face and her makeup running as tears streaked down her cheeks. Purged...His mind whispered it like a dirty word.

He wanted to call Travis, but the number one rule at Camp Teepo Lake was no cell phones. The unease he felt when he talked with Anne then worsened. He couldn’t pinpoint the source, but it settled in his chest like a heavy weight. Travis had to know how much he loved him; it didn’t matter how many times he had said it in the past, Rhyn wanted him to hear it again, needed him to hear it. What’s wrong with me? He closed the cell with reluctant snap and stared at the smooth casing.I’ll see him in another week, what’s there to worry over? But even as he thought this, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding.

He was still staring at the phone when Kasun slipped behind and took it from his hand.

“Hey, what the hell are you–“

“If there is no one else to call,” Kasun said, tucking the phone into his breast pocket, “then there is no need for the phone. I will keep it safe until your task is completed.”

“But what if Sam calls, what if Travis–“

“It’s mine until I say otherwise. Now get in the car, please.” Kasun opened the passenger door and waved his hand at the seat.

Rhyn counted to ten in his head and then climbed in the car. His palms had nail marks when he finished. When Kasun slammed the door, a dark thought crossed his mind. He wished that Kasun was one of the unlucky myseborn who fell the day she escaped. The moment that wish ended came images he saw with such clarity that it made him flinch: white cobblestones stained crimson, bloody robes fluttering in the wind, blank eyes staring...They were things that had haunted him for the longest time after exile, and it took years to stop dreaming of them. But here they were again, waiting with eager and greedy arms. Remember the blood, Rhyn, all that blood over the ivory stones of the courtyard? It's all yours...every drop was your doing...

He shuddered and pushed the memory away. No wizard deserved that fate; not even one as arrogant as Kasun.

However, as he stood there in the dusty nave of the church and waited for Kasun to rebuild the ward, he found himself thinking it again. The flash of fire and heat from Kasun’s fingertips made Rhyn seethe with jealousy. I had that once...I felt its burn and its heady rush. My blood flowed with flame, with power, but now its just blood; tired old blood that swishes in my veins, useless and weak. He pulled the photo from his chest and looked at it. His fingers traced the image and his resolve hardened. This was no time for self-pity. There was someone below, sitting on dirt and caged within blood, who needed him. What pain he had gone though in his exile and sealing were nothing compared to what that boy must have endured. He was being selfish and petty, no better than the man who pushed past him without apology and motioned for him to hurry and follow. Rhyn looked back at the flaming column and stifled the twinge of regret. Leave it here, he thought, leave your anger here.

He turned and followed Kasun into the choir room.

Bent music stands and rusted hangers from the wardrobe scattered the room, a filthy pile of choir robes sat lumped in the center. More music here, the pages carpeting the dirty floor in treble clefs and quarter notes. There was also another ward guarding the door. Frost coated the peeling surface and the outer walls; icicles hung in jagged arches from the ceiling. He could see these manifestations because he still retained his senses. An ungifted standing where he stood would see nothing, but they would feel something wrong. A chill would seep into their bones, numbing them and lowering their body temperatures to dangerous levels. The effect would increase the closer they came to the door--if they ever got that far. Raythe wards were lethal.