Sentinels of Magic#1: "Rekindle the Flame" by JM de Joya
"Can you see it?" The elder one said, the wings on his back majestic and ancient as the sun's eye. The young faery sat before his lap, trying to grab hold of the brilliant lights before him. "Yes, Black Majestrix," she mumbled, before the she fell upon the silent explosion of the lights . Then it faded into the black velvet night. "Child, you have no comprehension on what is and isn't," the elder Black Majestrix said, as he spreaded his wings. The air became rough, the mist thicker than the heavy feelings captured within the golden cage of the Calligrapher, the scribe of dreams. The young one stared unto the heavens, as the Black Majestrix disappeared into the dark sky. Suddenly, the thunder rolled across the sky. The young one could see it. The eye of entropy. She already knew it, this was the masterpiece. The Black Majestrix took his own way of stopping it, if not futile in gesture. She could sense every waking moment drawing closer to the darkness, for the magick was indeed spilling across the realms. Soon, the eye will gobble the essence, and use it for the darkness which it serves. It was his realm. It was his time. And soon, there will be no one with the power to stop him.
"The stars are aligning," the mystic said, as her crystal ball transcended time and space, realm of light and darkness. Suddenly the it exploded, and the shards fell onto the floor. Slowly, Madame Xanadu began to pick up the shard, when she noticed something among their reflections. "What is this?" she whispered, as the wind began to pick up pace. The shards began to flicker against the distant lights of the room, as reflection upon reflection cast its way through the shards. "The mirror...as a gateway to the other realms, it can see all," faces upon faces of the past and present began to cluster across the reception of her mind. "...a power source of infinite scope, it seems. That without the Gods to empower, magick is running rumpant. The order of balance must be cast again."
"I see..." the man's fading words faltered, as the diamond pyramid began to twirl across its axis, spinning into motion the gate of mysticism. "...words fail me, but this may be the deed of unknown power, one so ancient that I may not even be able to stop it." The young boy below him grabbed his enchanted sceptre, and handed it to the sorcerer. "Thank you, Timothy," Strange began to levitate from his throne of granite, holding onto his sceptre, focusing its tip upon the diamond pyramid. Suddenly the pyramid stopped in its movement, as if by instinct. Strange nodded, in silence. "This is the work of the Dusk King," his words began to shake at every second, as his young protege assembled his books. "Timothy, please bring to me the book of the Dark Chapter." "Yes, sir!" his excited voice chimed, as he focused his thoughts upon the books lying so still upon the shelf. Suddenly, it darted forward, flying into Strange's arms. "Not bad, Timothy. A long time ago, another young one used to do that to me..." "Yes sir." "The time has come once again, I fear. The Gods have long been but powerless now in our realms, and the magick is seeping through across in its wake. I'm sure you know what I mean," he said to the shadows, as the trenchcoated figure made his way to the light. "Yeah boy, the bloody bloke's probably right. Who knows when the creepy crawlies you see in your dreams come for yer as..." "Constantine." Strange's voice was trailing off, yet firm in its direction. John Constantine took a puff of his cigarrette and eyed the sorcerer. "So, this is your realm now, ain't it? Fashioned it just like the Feng Shui table told you? Not doing a really good job, being wrecked by the magick outburst, it is, isn't it?" "Constantine." "Well, that's what I thought," he said, extinguishing his cigarrette on the side of the bookshelf. Tim Hunter swept the ashes of the shelf and into his pouch of nothingness, a void of infinite space. "Constantine, you have already alerted the others, haven't you?" Strange's words began to stand firmer than usual, as the mystic leaned upon the stained glass windows. "O'course." "Constantine." "Okay, okay, let's not get too over it, shan't we? The Blue Devil's already alerted about the matter, he'll be there. Mortigan's pretty 'kay about it, but I can't find that Alan Scott guy's number...being a presidential candidate and all. Bloke's prob'bly messing around someplace..." "What about Zatanna and Black Orchid?" "I figure male bonding." "This is not good," Strange said, as his sceptre floated away to Tim's hands, and he sat on his throne once more. "The male energy is powerful enough to tip the scales of magick. Remember, for every yang, there must be a yin. An active energy and a passive energy. Without these..." "The situation's going to be worse?" "...precisely," Strange uttered, as Constantine smirked a wry smile. "Well, bloody good then." "Are you really up to this?" "Actually, no. Out of my kind heart am I doing this, really," Constantine declared, as he began to ignite a flare from his middle finger. "Don't do that here, Constantine," Strange sighed, and the young mystic ceased his actions and sat back. "Well, the heck's this bloke gonna help you anyhow? Besides..." Constantine disappeared once again into the shadows of the dark realm, like candle burning out instantly. "I have work to do." Strange sighed, as Tim grabbed the book of the Dark Chapter. "Sir, will you be leaving now?" "Yes...I'll have to entail to this matter myself."
Otherworldly Investigations Incorporate, Greenwich Village "Zatanna," the man said, as the woman turned to him. She was in her showsuit, with skimpy fishnets to cover her legs. "What is it, Occult?" "I have been informed...the Gathering is taking place once more." "You mean the faeries? I don't know, it seems pretty much like gatecrashing..." "No. The mystics are gathering for the rekindling," Dr. Occult wavered his glasses to cover his eyes, as Zatanna placed some of her mystical tomes on the shelf. "I don't know, Occult. I've already refused to join a team...I don't know how much concentration I can handle, let alone the rekindle,*" (*What team was Zatanna did refuse to join? Avengers League, in Avengers League#1) "For good or worse, I have more. I have recieved information that someone among the mystics know the whereabouts of the bones of the dearly departed Zatara..." "Father?!?!" Zatanna paused, as Dr.Occult sighed. "All the more for you to come, dearest Zatanna," the magician grabbed the black jacket she used on her stage performances and turned to Dr. Occult. "This has to be a joke, I'm dreaming this. I've got more supernatural murders to solve...like this aswang case..." Her voice faded away as Dr.Occult whisked them away into the velvet of night.
"Did you know what I like in big, devilish, demons-from-hell-type hunky men...?" Black Orchid said, crawling on the pool table. The demon smiled, as he began drooling at the sexy and sultry magician dancing exotically across the table. Finally losing his resistance, he jumped after her. In a moment, he felt her high heels on his throat. "Uh-uh." Suddenly, someone kicked him aside, and he flew to the wall. Grabbing a billiard stick, Black Orchid began outlining mystical patterns on the pool table. "Where's a candle when you need one?" She muttered, as the other demons turned to her and the assailant. Suddenly, one of them recognized him. "It...it is you! Traitor!" The Blue Devil smiled. "Well, that's nice. Isn't everyday I get a compliment from you guys," He dropped his trident from his back, then forced it down the ground. "I suppose I could drill the fact to you guys, but why bother? My fists can do the talking..." "Sacre Mere!" Orchid yelled, as the purple aura began to seep through the bar. "Run, brethen! She has released the spirit essence!" "Ah, running away to fight another day. Demons after my own heart, no?" "Foul witch...we shall accumulate our vengeance for such treachery," the leader of the demons declared, as his clan disappeared outside. "The Demons of Blackmist shall see to that!" Orchid just laughed. "Is that the truth? You demons, aren't you made out of lies?" the demon sneered, and disappeared through the door. Black Orchid sighed, and released another piece of the spirit essence into the air, this time as protection to the bar. The Blue Devil took his trident and sighed. "Good thing they didn't call my bluff, monsieur. Otherwise, we would be déjà complètement." "We have to get out of here..." Black Orchid said, placing her items back into the bag. "Bad as it is, those demons will come back...and it could be more than I can handle." "So, where you going?" the Blue Devil asked, as Orchid headed out to the door. "...I don't know. Somewhere, I guess. Someplace where I won't need to run, monsieur..." "Then come with me." "What?!? Hey, look here, bouffon stupide, I'm not only a user of the Tantric Arts, I'm also a liberal. No commitments for me. Nope." "What are you talking about? I'm saying you should come with me. I know a place...besides, we need you." "Really now...I cater to massages so don't--" "Black Orchid," Blue Devil raised his voice. "The Sentinels of Magic are needed again." Orchid then paused for a minute, in quiet shock. "Well...that's...quite a responsibility they're giving me...just like that God incident isn't it!??! How do you know I won't fail you? I was worried, Devil! When we were gathered, I was...and I couldn't tell them. Sacre Mere,I may have helped during that crisis, but...what makes you so sure I won't fail this time?" the Blue Devil placed his hands on her shoulders, and whispered to her ears. "Because I know you won't." Black Orchid turned to him, and smiled. "...Merci."
The Black Majestrix soared up to the heavens...to the highest point of their realm as he can reach. From below, he saw the stormclouds brewing, its power beginning to transcend. Suddenly, a downpour of rain fell upon him, to the ground below. "Hear me, Lord of the Eye! It is he, thou enemy, the Majestrix!" No answer. The wind grew stronger, ignoring the plea of the Black Majestrix. Suddenly the rain stopped. The Majestrix found himself falling to the earth, even though his wings tried to carry him upwards. He crashed on the marble floor, as he was no longer on the realm of which he thought he was. "Welcome," the figure cloaked gold and blue said, high above his magnificent marble throne. The torches began to lit in flames to the sound of his voice. "I have heard your call...I, who has protected your world for long, have grown weary of detest to that which was once my own. My enemy, welcome to your God's court." "Filth!" The Black Majestrix declared at him, and the figure smiled. "You are not a god! You are but man, and man alone! Lord of the Eye, your reign must end now! For long, your monstrosities have plagued us of the Fae! I, of the Majestrix blood, shall..." "You talk too much, " the figure said, as marble hands suddenly uprooted the Faery elder, and teared his wings off. He fell on the floor, limp, as the figure stood from his throne. "I will do away with you, for every clock has a time to stop ticking. You are old, it is time you learn the price." From within his soul, the Black Majestrix felt an evil sensation burning up his entrails. Suddenly, he reverted to faery dust, exploding into a cloud on grey nothingness. The Lord of Entropy sighed, and pondered on his throne.
"Aye, Madam Xanadu. Aye, Agatha Harkness. It is I." Strange's astral form paled to the darkness, as Madam Xanadu sat on the wooden chair, inside the rustic house. Beside her, the aged witch known as Agatha Harkness pat black cat, and scratched her fur. ' What is your matter, Sorcerer Supreme?" Agatha's voice asked raspily. "Agatha...I am no longer the Sorcerer Supreme...however, I still have a duty to protect our realm. Thus, we must reunite, the Sentinels of Magic must." The cat jumped off her lap, as Agatha began to cackle. "Ho...Sir Strange, I cannot grant you my assurance. I am old and weak, pratically of no use in battle." Strange paused quietly, and then, Xanadu stood from her seat, and took the cat, stroking its head. "Strange, I will accept your offer. Already, I have sent some of our esteemed mystics to gather the rest." Strange smirked, and opened a gateway for Madam Xanadu, and turned to Agatha. "Agatha, we must bid you farewell. Time is not of the essence, and..." "Wait!" Agatha's black cat returned to her, and the witch took the small pouch tucked in her collar. "Good girl, Salem." She took a piece of paper out of it, and gave it to Xanadu. "Long ago, this was given to me by tthe Fates. But do not call them that, instead they are the Kindly Ones. This piece from a fortune cookie was theirs...passed on to me. I fear it may be connected with the disruptions of magick." Kingdoms never thought to exist shall rise from the darkest depths. Masters of lost arts clash into fray, The Aged Dragon and the Golden Pheonix battle at last, The oldest battle begins once more. "...What would this mean," Agatha uttered, as the gateway closed inches away from her. "If it begins now?"
The heavy deserts of the Coyote Moon, where man makes no footprint found in the sands. Jonah Hex sighed, and lifted his dustied boot. The mystic, struggling in the lone desert, has to take measures, for he was searching for something powerful...for her. His thoughts engraved by a derelict, and his grim smile was only outshined by the silver bullets he was carrying. "What better way to lure it, than being a cowboy..." He was suited up like one, after all, to summon this ancient ghost. But he was not one, so he has better caution himself... From nowhere, the sounds of hoofprints rapidly moved in, as the howling of wild coyotes began to ring in the distance. "...gruff." Hex took the old Winchester rifle lying on the ground, and aimed it at the pale white spectre. El Diablo. The ghost of the western lands. He...it, rode a black stallion, beady red eyes flickering alive. "Oh sh..." Jonah took a shot, and doubled back, as the western ghost made another round against him. "...oot. Damn it, where's the bullet pack..." The ghostly apparition took out a revolver in its one hand, and grabbed the reins of the horse in the other. Jonah Hex dodged the piercing bullets, as they flew past mid-air. "...damn bullet pack! Heck with you 'ready!" El Diablo's shadowed face turned to him, as he fired several more shots. "...ah crap! Hell with bullets!" Jonah's eyes twinkled in brightness, and in an instant, the ghostly horse drew back, as Hex grabbed one of the bullets, suspended in mid-air, and threw it back to El Diablo. The apparition fired one more shot from his revolver, and disappeared as the bullet touched his pale forehead. Jonah Hex smiled, before falling onto his knees, as the bullet wound in his arm burnt deep. Suddenly, a young figure stood before him, a bookish boy, with a tome of magick in his hands. "Welcome to the realm of Strange, Mister Hex." "...what...El Diablo escaped again...dammit...." The mystic tried to get up, but the wound was slowly getting thicker. Tim Hunter sighed, and opened the book of magicks before him. "I'll try to heal your wound...although I've never done this before..." "...is that going to encourage me?" The sigil of the book began to glow, as brilliant lights began to transcend the whole room...or realm, whatever one may percieve. Timothy unleashed a smoke of golden-white, as it disappeared into the air. Jonah opened his eyes, and found his wound gone. Not only that, he found himself clean again, and with a new Winchester rifle tucked on his back. "...I may be a magic-user, but that's the first time I've seen something that powerful." The vagrant turned around, as he found himself in the throne room of Strange. Before him, the young boy placed a bottle of vintage wine, and some cigars from the industrial revolution, kept by his mentor. "...relax, Mister Hex. Take a drink or two. He wants you ready for the rekindling of the flame..." Jonah Hex paused, and turned to the boy. "...rekindling? The rekindling? Sorry, boy, but there's a powerful ghost out there with no good intentions and..." "...you are searching for the Darkhold medallion. He told me." Jonah turned to the boy. "Just how much did Strange teach you anyway?" "Enough to tell you that you're important enough to be part of rekindling. Please, Mister Hex...consider his offer...at least until the rekindling is over." Hex drowned himself in thought for a few minutes, to think about it. "El Diablo is still on the loose, after all. Can't ignore that. But..." He turned to the young boy and smiled. "...what is his offer?" Tim Hunter smiled, and poured him a cup of wine.
Fortress Hill. In the shadows of everything in between. The wide, empty room was like a corridor, with no beginning and no end. A round wooden table, made out of enchanted sylphwood, sat in the center, as chairs aligned silently around it. Strange, in his surreal form, lit a torch aflame, and sat in the chair, waving the thing like balls of fire. In an instant, the more of them appeared. Dr.Occult. Madam Xanadu. Zatanna. Black Orchid. Jonah Hex. Blue Devil. "Wait...where is Mortigan Goth?" Strange sat in his chair, as the others did. Out of the shadows, Immortalis appeared silently. He sighed, and sat on the chair. "...well, what are you waiting for, Strange?" The Sorcerer sighed, then brought the torch down to the center of the table. Suddenly, its flames trickled forth, forming a pentagram of power rather than burning the enchanted table. Zatanna moved closer to Occult, and began whispering to his ear. "...are you sure someone here knows about my father's bones?" "...in due time, Zatanna." The bright lights brought forth as Strange levitated to the air. Seemingly, everyone else did so. "So it has come to pass, mystics, Sentinels of Magic. For magick has brewed chaos across the realms, and it is time we set it right." Madam Xanadu threw moon dust into the fire, and it exploded into a mighty crascendo. Jonah Hex brought his hands to fold, as he observed from the Cheyenne ancients. "...the moon shall breath a fiery roar, as it eats away the magick chaos... as dreams they disappear into the night, and blow away into the sky." Blue Devil opened his palms, and pressed them towards the burning table. "...for all the devils in the hell below, shall find a place to return home once more... ...for all the angels in the heaven above, shall find a place to return home once more..." Strange, Zatanna, Black Orchid and Immortalis held hands, as Blue Devil released his palms, and forged the link together, with the melted moon dust. "For order must be restored again, so sayeth the will of magick." "For every magick, there must be an order of things to do. So sayeth be." Suddenly, the flame died down, and the Sentinels of Magic found themselves in the shadows of Fortress Hill. "...it is done." Strange said, smiling in the darkness, as Black Orchid's aura began to glow like a firefly. "We have rekindled the magick, set it in order. Set it in motion." "So...what about the Sentinels of Magic? Are we still needed?" Zatanna asked, and Strange turned to her, lighting the charcoal torch once more. "...Zatanna, our work is far from over. Evil manifestions over the realms may terrorize ours and others. It is only right...the Sentinels of Magic must remain." "For you people, I guess," Immortalis said roughly, as everyone turned to his voice. "I don't think I feel this type of stuff...the rekindling I can take, not an every-Saturday-bridge-session-with-the-mystics routine. It's been fun." Strange grabbed Immortalis by the shoulder, before he disappeared into the darkness. "...Mortigan...remember that you'll always have a place with us." "...heh. Whatever. See you people around." Immortalis disappeared fully, and Strange paused. "...if anyone feels that he or she do not belong to the Sentinels, please tell us now." Black Orchid motioned to raise her hand, and speak what of her anxiety. But she stopped, taking a moment to find a way...a way to belong. Jonah Hex thought about it, thought about all he has been going through. If he was side-blinded from his own quest for the Darkhold medallion, he could be too late for her. Yet, time will never make you late, only by your own self will it happen. He thought...and he stayed quiet. Zatanna wanted to, but her father's bones rest in her involvement with the Sentinels. Trust, as Zatara taught her, will give you the best reward. And so she must gain that trust. "Well then. It is done. We shall meet again, if be a problem. Meeting adjourned." Strange blew the candle out, as each of the Sentinels of Magic were left to a moment of silence to reflect on their decision. Because their was no turning back from it.
"Well, well. Well. It seems they pulled my strings further than I expected it." The Lord of Entropy smiled, and gathered the relics on the marble floor. His breath blew away the dust on the floor, as it flew to the sky. "The order of magick has been set in motion. For every order must have chaos, and the balance will strengthen the effects of entropy...everything is working perfectly."
NEXT ISSUE: Magic is flying abound, as the Orb of Thessaly unlocks a dark entity from ancient Spain... can anyone really take a guess?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi! This is JM de Joya, the writer of Sentinels of Magic. I'd like to owe my thanks...a lot of thanks really, to Toby Kernan, which most of his characters are featured in here. For more on his characters, or particularly Jonah Hex, read Strange Tales, where good ol' Hex is the star of the serial! In the meantime, hope you enjoy the future series of the Sentinels of Magic!