[The Sorcerer's Path 01] • The Sorcerer's Ascension

The Sorcerer's Path is a spellbinding saga that let's you follow young Azerick as he must steal to survive, avoid the clutches of slavers and thieves, kill to defend himself, and find those responsible for his heart-aching losses and make them pay.

“You said I had awakened, what do you mean? I was in bed at the Academy so I must be asleep, not awake. Unless this is a hallucination,” Azerick argued.

'No, you are awake. For the first time in your life, you are awake. For the first time, you are seeing clearly, seeing what is real. However, you must choose if you will stay awake or go back to sleep and live the life as the person you came here as.'

“What will happen to me if I go back to sleep?”

'You will be an orphan, street rat, and a student of magic— for a time at least.'

Azerick realized that the voice was talking in metaphors; he needed only to figure out the meaning.

“What happens to me if I stay awake? Who am I then?”

'Everything will happen; you will be what you are meant to be, what you need to be.'

“How do I stay awake?”

'Touch the Source, take the Source into yourself, and become part of the Source.'

Azerick looked at the luminescent river and its swift-moving current flowing rapidly over the horizon. He listened to the rushing flow of energy for the first time and realized that it was calling to him like the voice of a long lost loved one. He heard his mother and father’s voice in the flow, calling him to it, inviting him to become part of it. It was calling him home.

He walked slowly to its bank in an almost hypnotic state. He felt his feet slip into the edge of the flow. It was warm and comforting. He imagined this was what it felt like to be in a mother’s womb, safe, comfortable, and protected.

The river of energy now flowed just above his waist as he trailed his hands in its sparkling current. Suddenly there was no longer any ground under his feet. His head slipped under the roiling tide of energy as it swept him along its length. He fought for the surface and gasped for breath as his head broke through to the air above. He coughed out great mouthfuls of the prismatic substance before he was swept under again, pulled down deeper and deeper in its depths.

He held his breath as long as he could and fought for the surface but the Source was not going to release its prize this time. It held him in its deep embrace until spots began to form and stars exploded in his vision. He knew it was going to kill him. It was a trick, he had tapped into power he was not supposed to touch and he was going to pay for that sacrilege with his life. His starving lungs forced his mouth open and he inhaled the Source, taking the source of all magic onto his lungs, filling him, and killing him.