A Scripta

("Black Shield" in Gaelic)

Nathan easily plowed through the demons that the Circle had summoned. Can't they do better than this? he thought, as he put his hand through one of the demons and ripped out what could be considered its heart. It went down in an instant.

He walked around the room, and his eye was caught by a shield propped up in the corner. It looked almost new, a shiny black one with a red crimson bar across its center. It looked kind of small for him, but he went over to it anyway. He picked it up and put his left arm through the strap.

Suddenly, he got a severe pain in his left wrist, as if something was grabbing a hold of it with claws. He couldn't get the strap of the shield off, even as he tugged at it.

Be calm, Nathan.

Nathan whirled around, fists raised - even though one was covered by the shield. He looked around for the source of the woman's voice. The pain in his wrist got more severe; now something was digging into it. He tried to lift the strap but it was seemingly attached to his wrist.

Almost done.

"Done what?" He looked around the room wildly.

I am called Black Shield. I am yours now.

"What?" Now he looked at the shield.

You have dark power now.

"No! I just got rid of it!" He finally was able to yank the shield off and threw it to the ground.

I am yours, the shield continued. For the rest of your life.

Nathan looked down at his wrist, and saw a blue tattoo that looked like barbed wire. He touched it - it was raised, as if it was under his skin. He scratched at it, but it didn't bleed, however it moved under his skin.

Take up the shield.


He was suddenly filled with yearning, and he bent down and picked up the shield, putting it back on his arm. He felt a tingling in his right arm, and he looked down at it to see it covered with a bubbling, dark substance. He raised his arm, and when he did, a black sword exploded out of his fist. He jerked back, but the sword didn't disappear. He shook his hand, but it didn't go away. "What the fuck!"

Claimoh Dubh. Black Sword.

"No, no, no..." But it felt so perfect, so right, to have this ghostly sword in hand and this shield on his arm, that he felt invincible, like he had years ago...He stopped fighting it, and let the perfect feeling wash over him, filling him with power and strength. He wasn't sure if it was evil or not, and to tell the truth, he really didn't care.

"Aontu me," Nathan said, raising the sword, his eyes afire with dark flame. "I agree."