The Book of Hydriss - Chapter 1: The Glass Tower Falls

[CainAndrews]

The Glass Tower - longtime home of the Academy of Ixalis - haven for mages, warlocks, sorcerers. It stood in the center of the Island of Ixalis, a shimmering structure towering over the humble town below. For centuries, spellcasters of all kinds had flocked here to learn, to teach, to understand their abilities and how to control them. For centuries, it had been a neutral power in the land, disregarding politics in favor of knowledge.

Accessible only by flight, there was no point of harbor. No ships could reach the floating island, nestled in the center of ocean waters, the only morsel of land as far as the eye could see. It was raised out of the waters by Ixalis himself: the Grand Master of the Violet Robes, first to suggest the idea of this Utopian haven where magic users could come and be safe. Safe from persecution for their studies, for their experiments, for their mistakes. The floating island needed nor fortification. Wards, spells, and magical defenses had been put in place by some of the most powerful wizards. The Tower itself, a glistening spire crafted from sand and glass, fused with primal energies, and made impervious to magical attacks - a result of needing safety from experimenting with magic in the various classrooms and laboratories. The island was itself a fortress, but who would be brave or daft enough in the first place to bring war to a nation of mages?

One man...one man would be.

The sky darkened over the coast of Mirvahna, nearest nation to the Island of Ixalis. The townsfolk along the coastline prepared for rough weather. Fishing boats were called in, windows and doors were barred shut. Weather would not come. The black clouds moved out to see, leaving behind blue sky and sunshine. It moved with a ferocity, spiraling and reeling against a wind that wasn't there. Mist poured out of it, circling with tempest speeds, down and around the island, encircling it in an unlifting fog.

The mages of The Glass Tower broke their routine, moving out to the island coasts to view upon the eerie mist. Before they had time to gather their wits, calamity broke and spilled down around them.

Fel beasts, appearing as dragon and demon together as one, poured from the mist. Known as Lagras, these beasts were not as fearsome as dragons themselves, but just as deadly. Wizards and sorcerers lined the edge of the island, the courtyard of the Tower itself, sending bolts of primal energy, elemental fire and ice, and commanding massive bolts of lightning to strike at the beasts. They carried something in their ten miniscule arms - they appeared to be large wooden baskets.

As they moved closer, the Lagras collapsed against the unseen shields surrounding the island. This did not deter them. They threw themselves upon it, again and again, until green blood oozed from wounds this act was inflicting. They spat bolts of neon fire which sloshed upon the shield walls, sizzling as it attempted to dissolve the magical barrier. Some Larga were struck by the wizards below, but it did not seem to deter them. When the primal energies hit them, they staggered a bit in the air, but simply kept coming. Each time they were struck, red, burning runes would erupt on their skin. "They are rune-warded!" Someone could be heard below.

A type of magical armor, the rune-wards were protecting them against the brunt of the attacks. A full dozen of these beasts were now upon the shield, spewing forth their corrosive ichor onto it and weakening it. Eventually, the shield shattered, letting the Lagras move down to the island itself. They moved in quickly, dodging through the barrage of attacks coming from the wizards below. More mages and even now some students were throwing spells and incantations at them, in hopes to thwart this unprecedented attack. When they were no more than thirty feet from the ground, the Lagras released their payload, the wooden capsules crashing to the ground and rolling inland from the coast of the island. Within a matter moments, the wood splintered apart and barbarous infantry roared forth, blades in hand.

By this time, the Grand Magus Council had been alerted. Grand Master Telors, eldest of the Council, ushered the others to the courtyard, to aid in the defense. He then took himself out of the council chambers, moving to the inner cloister of the Grand Magus compound, nestled at the top of the spire. Very few were ever permitted to enter this wing of the Tower. He hiked up his robes, moving quickly, until he had come to a grand wardrobe. He tore it open, nearly cracking the doors of it from the hinges. Telors rustled through the trappings within the rickety cabinet, tossing random trinkets and scrolls aside, until he came upon a musty object, wrapped in a small blanket. Unfolding the cloth, he revealed the tome hidden within. The book was etched with red and black inks which seemed to spiral preternaturally upon its cover. He replaced it within the blanket, and hurried out of the cloister.

Outside, the battle had erupted inward, the infantry and Lagras moving closer to the courtyard in front of the entrance to the Tower. Battle mages moved in tight formation from the Tower's defenses, pushing back the opposing infantry of barbarians and mercenaries. Swords clanged, spells flew, both sides lost numbers, all the while, the Lagras continued to drop in reinforcements.

Telors escaped the council chambers and took the spiral staircase upward, to the tip of the spire which held the portal rooms. The quickest form of travel from The Glass Tower was from these rooms, which held persistent magical portals to some of the more prominent locations throughout the realm. He turned, still clutching tightly to the tome, closed his eyes, and uttered a single word under his breath. Within the breadth of the island, every mage heard this command, Telors voice intense in their minds: RETREAT!

With that utterance, every wizard who still drew breath instinctively forced their will and instantly vanished from the field of battle. Inside, Telors pulled a small gem from his robe's inner pocket. The bright green glow showing immensely in the dull-lit room. He raised his hand, then threw the gemstone against the floor, shattering it and loosing the energy within into the air. It flowed around him, into the wall, and down through the stone and glass innards of the Tower. Outside, the infantry and Lagras had collapsed upon the Tower, forcing their way inside or battering at its walls. Telors turned from the room, passing through one of the portals...

Outside, the infantry stopped as a faint glowing light began to radiate from the walls of the Tower. Growing more and more intense every second, it soon became necessary to shield their eyes. The Lagras fumed and reeled from the light, turning in the air to move away from the vicinity. As the light began to resonate greater, the infantry turned and began to run from the Tower, the light so intense it had begun to burn even their skin. Men fell over each other, unable to see, crying in horror at the pain this light was causing. Without notice, the Tower itself erupted, sending boiling light and shards of glass and stone flowing outward at fatal speeds. Those who were not consumed in the light's blaze were immediately shredded to pieces. The island began to hum, the sound reverberating all the way to Mirvahna, sending waves crashing throughout the local shores. Then, the island collapsed into the sea, starting its slow descent through the ocean.

The mist dispersed, the dark skies opened to show sunlight beyond, and a lone figure climbed down through the air, riding on the back of a behemoth Lagra. His form was cloaked in darkness, as though the sunlight seemed to ignore his existence. He stretched out his hand, closing it into a tight fist, and the island halted its descent. Minimal hand movement from the figure caused the island to rebel against gravity and come back out of the water. Lagras once again moved in to drop soldiers onto the island, sloshing across the waterlogged surface toward where The Glass Tower once stood, now a pile of rubble. They scoured the stone and glass piles, searching, hunting, looking...

Hours passed, with nearly a hundred men heaving rock and boulder. Finally, one of the many barbarians, this one much larger than the others, came to the edge of the island where the man in darkness awaited, still atop the Lagra. He knelt and spoke, his voice rough and obviously full of fear. "My lord, we can not find the book..."

The dark-shrouded figure shook violently. Tenebrous shadows erupted from him, coiling out and around the barbarian. "General Gorthok...your family...your entire bloodline...will be destroyed...if that book...is not...brought to me..." The voice seemed to manifest somewhere within the center of the figure, not necessarily from a mouth. In fact, there was no mouth to even see. The shadowy tendrils lifted the barbarian - General Gorthok - from the ground, gripping him by his massive neck, pouring into every orifice visible. "The book...is either here...or somewhere else...regardless...I will have it...and you will bring it to me..."

With that, the shadow arms subsided from the General, dropping him to the ground. The figure pulled back upon the Lagra, flying up into the air, and disappearing into the massive dark clouds that lingered above...

Elsewhere...

Grand Master Telors broke through the ebb of the portal, clambering out into the chamber of Silas, Son of Giliath, Venerable Guardian of the Elements, last Grand Master of the Violet Robes. He was the youngest among the clan of wizards and viziers that had been founded centuries ago, his age bearing no more than two hundred years. Telors was his mentor, but decades ago he had left The Glass Tower and took refuge in a small town in the Kingdom of Barinedes. Telors had held great contempt toward him for this, but at the same time he understood Silas was capable in his own right to pursue his own endeavors.

Telors stepped quietly through the study, the chambers much like his own: filled with tomes, scrolls, ever-burning candles, trinkets, potions, and gadgets. He clung to the tome with a death grip. His attention was poised at a stray corner, his eyes narrowing, waiting...

Finally it came. Silas, clad in a simple, gray robe, appeared with a poof of wind in that very corner, Telors having his eyes trained on him before even appearing. The younger mage came quickly to the center of the room.

"Might I ask, my mentor, what brings you to my humble home?"

Telors looked down to the blanket-wrapped book, then back to his former student.

"The Glass Tower has been destroyed...the...previous owners of this tome...The Book of Hydriss, Malfean Progenitor...are coming to reclaim it."

Silas took a step back, gazing at the dusty rags covering the dread book. "Who could muster the power to destroy a nation of wizards?"

Telors kept a narrow gaze at his former apprentice. "The same who can tame Lagras...who can manipulate the barbarians of the North...those who came to corrupt our brothers and lead them down the spiral to the Nether and the power it afforded..."

Silas glowered, anger seething in his eyes, upon his face, fists clenched. "Zevon..."

"Not Zevon," Telors corrected. "Those who corrupted even him. Those who tore through the facade of the physical world and spilled evil incarnate into it. They come now, and we haven't much time."

Telors stepped to the nearby desk, pushing aside a set of scrolls that nearly crumbled at his touch. "We need to destroy this book, and the command of evil it can grant. If we do not, Zevon will find us. He will destroy us, and he will have that command. The world will be enshrouded in darkness, and we will be helpless to stop it."

Silas dropped his stern resolve, moved to the desk, and silently asked his elder. "So...how do we destroy it?"

"Why, the same way you tame a Lagra..."

Silas thought for a moment, then begged the question. "So...how do you do that?"

Telors looked to him and gave a wry smile. "I haven't the slightest, my old friend."

 

[CainAndrews]

The Book of Hydriss - Chapter 2: The Legacy of Ixalis

The Elder Lands
400 Years Before
The Creation of
The Glass Tower

"Master, we have received a missive. It came by raven..."

The room was dim, but amply lit. One man, clutching a parchment, stumbled into the chambers as the other, a stout man wielding a very envious sword, struck at a wooden dummy. As the last word - raven - fell upon his ears, he abruptly stopped and turned. The man was mute since birth, unable to speak, but had somehow procured a very fulfilling life. Placing the sword aside, he took two quick steps to his servant, pulling the fine parchment from his hands, and motioning him to take his leave.

The parchment itself was clean, smooth, written in bold ink, yet in a language known only to a few in this age. It was the language of magic, a form of rune-working where the author instills symbols with the words he wants to convey. Only those who the the message was meant for can truly read the runes.

This must be kept brief, as the doorway is becoming increasingly thin...

Master Roderick: I beg you join me at the Pillar of August set within the pinnacle of Mount Rezas, to the north. Follow the raven, he will show you the quickest path. Arrive there no later than ten days past the delivery of this message, as after that will be too late. This is a matter of grave importance. I would not call on you otherwise.

Ixalis

The man, Grand Master Roderick, Steward of the Battle-Mages of Eiras, was a long-time acquaintance of Ixalis. He looked to the calendar, stepped to the weapon rack and withdrew two blades. He sheathed them within a rugged harness, grabbed a clutch of armor, and moved out of the chambers...

Two days later, they crossed paths in the mining town of Joiston, four miles from the base of Mount Rezas. Ixalis came upon him on foot, gripping the bridle of Roderick's horse. "It has been too long, old friend." He said, his voice soothing, yet twinged with a worried undertone. "I am sorry we have to meet on such sullen terms...come! Let us retire for the evening, and I will explain everything. Quickly...I am sure Larissa will be overjoyed to see you."

Ixalis turned from the horse and its rider. Roderick gave the horse a quick kick and it followed in behind the robed mage. Roderick's face had perked up at the mention of the girl, Larissa. It had been ages since last they had met. Larissa, a mage of the Ebon Eye, had manifested her abilities at a later age than most. Since then, she had been eternally locked in youth, forever appearing in her form, early twenties, unlike most mages, who age slower than normal folk, but still notably evident. She was now centuries old, but none would ever be able to tell. It was rumored that she was immortal, forever trapped in life.

Larissa and Roderick had once been close acquaintances. They fought together at the Battle of Gnassus, where barbarians sought to end the reign of the kings of Eiras. The girl was obviously much older than Roderick, by nearly three centuries. Still, when they met, it was always a favorable reunion. Roderick dismounted his horse and lassoed it to the post stationed in front of the inn, hurriedly anxious to catch up with his two peers waiting inside.

In the grand suite at the top floor, his two fellow mages waited silently. When he entered the room, Larissa stood to meet him, grasped his arm firmly, and smiled. She had always harbored an attraction for the man, built on his resolve and determination, that she had never expressed. "It is good to see, Sir Roderick, that time has been kind to you."

Welcome aside, Ixalis clapped his hands and beckoned them both to sit. "The reason that I have called upon you both...I am not sure whom I can trust in the Order from here on. Grand Master Zevon...his mind is not whole. He began experimenting with transmutation of flesh and other dark arts, then disappeared from the Violet Robes quarters, removing himself from the eyes and ears of his peers. Others followed, and even more are still influenced by his promise of power...the hearts of man are easily corrupted, I'm afraid. But you two...I know I can trust you. You removed yourselves from the inner politics of our kind for a reason, and although in the past I would have loved to have you as steadfast supporters of the Violet, but now I could never be happier that you were not."

He reached to the floor, rummaging through a tattered pack. "A week ago, I came into my chambers to find it ransacked. Every book, every scroll, every chest...I can only assume it was Zevon's acolytes. They were looking for this...or at least indication to its whereabouts:"

He pulled from the satchel a great book, alive with color, the ink upon its cover swirling with purple, white, black, red, silver, and gold. He placed it upon the table between them, continuing his discussion. "This is the Que'la Dor Al'Isa - the Book of All Things. It was crafted by the Old Gods, the celestial bloodlines that walked this world before the age of Man. When they left, they granted the book to the first king of Man, who learned its knowledge but then had the book buried forever in the mountains to the east. The book itself is a conduit, channeling celestial energies to change the fabric of reality itself. This book in the wrong hands could literally unmake the world."

Ixalis reached out, his aged hands touching the cover, trailing across it and showing how the myriad of colors traced his fingertips. "This is what Zevon seeks. He knows of its existence, of its power, but he is unaware of its location. But every moment, he gets closer to scrying its whereabouts. Our job, the reason I have called you here, is we must destroy it."

He sat back in his chair, contemplating, then continued speaking. "The book itself is actually three tomes combined. The Book of Titus - Affords he who controls the book the control over nature and the beasts, The Book of Elys - Which controls the primal energy of the physical realm as well as the dominion of fate, and The Book of Hydriss - which gives its bearer control over the threads of death and destruction. Combined, these books control all aspects of our world. Separate, they are formidable tools. Regardless, our first task, we must separate the books. Contained within each one is a passage. When this passage is read aloud, it will unmake one of the other books. In the end, there is one book remaining, and only by a great ritual will it be destroyed."

Larissa cleared her throat, then posed a question. "This Zevon...how did he come to know the nature of this book? Simply asking because I have never heard of it before this day, and I'm sure it's not a widely known artifact."

Ixalis nodded and pondered for a moment. "Zevon did not have access to the relics that I do. He could not have known firsthand about the book. At the same time, there were a few of us who hold this knowledge. If Zevon corrupted one of them, or if he ripped the knowledge from them, that could explain it. Ultimately, the Book of Hydriss can open an ancient Waygate that has been dormant since the celestials departed. With that gate open, demon celestials can freely move into this world. If he has truly turned to dark arts and has managed to commune with these celestials, he could have easily been given this knowledge by them."

The elder mage procured a flask from his satchel and took a quick drink. He placed it on the table and continued. "At the Pillar of August, there is a great runic circle which channels primal energy strong enough to pierce the bindings of a single book. This event - the energies converging at the Pillar - rarely occurs even once in a mage's life, but our precognitions have shown that one such event is upon us. We must make our way there within a number of days, unmake two of the books, and then use the Pillar's energy to destroy the last. These tools are much too powerful to exist in this age. There are too many out there who would use them to bring calamity to this world. Now, then, let us rest. Tomorrow we make for the Pillar..."

Three days later...

The trio surrounded the altar, set amidst great stones rising from the ground. Atop the stones rested etched gems, resonating with an obvious magic. Ixalis had set up his workspace, drawing runes around the altar and placing various artifacts and trinkets here and there. The Book sat upon the altar itself, its colors swirling violently upon its face.

"We must make hast. An ill wind blows now. Go to the mouth of this crevasse. Keep any from entering. I feel it has been long enough for Zevon to learn of our mission."

Larissa and Roderick nodded to the mage, turned, and moved out of the stone court and into the hall cut through the mountain itself. Ixalis' voice, chanting an ancient mantra, grew lower and lower as the moved. Before they could reach the entrance of the hall, a great quake overtook the mountainside, nearly causing the pair to lose their footing. As they regained themselves, Larissa was surprised to see Roderick unsheathing his swords. Her puzzled look soon turned to ghastly worry when she saw the form at the mouth of the hall. "Zevon..." she said aloud, unable to mistake the black-robed mage for anyone else. His sinister eyes seemed to reach out in an attempt to grip them both by the throat.

"My dearest Larissa...is it true what they say about you? You are immortal? Let us find out.." With that, the dark wizard called forth orbs of pure black energy within his fists, surging them outward at the girl. They tore through the air, but were cut short as Roderick moved to intercept them, his own energy channeling through his swords, deflecting the orbs into the mountainside. Where they hit, the stone seemed to melt into a simmering liquid of tar and dust. Zevon smiled wryly at the two, and withdrew his own blade - an eerily black metal forged from some unknown smith - and started toward the two.

In moments, the dark wizard was locked in battle, deflecting the blows by sword from Roderick, deflecting the magical attacks from Larissa. The landscape was chaos. The walls were being struck by magic from all angles, deteriorating the hall with each attack. Zevon was soon overpowering the two, wearing down Roderick with his physical blows, draining Larissa with his magic. He seemed to have some otherworldly battery of power and endurance. He never seemed to slow, never seemed to near exhaustion. Then, he got the upper hand. A deft blow struck the Battle-Mage Roderick, knocking the man back against the wall. Blood flowed from his shoulder and his left arm hung useless. Larissa took a step back, encircling her hands for a moment, until a massive white shield barred Zevon's path. She moved toward the chamber where Ixalis was working his ritual, while Zevon had begun to erode the shield blocking his path.

Within the chamber, Ixalis had succeeded in separating the books, and already used one to unmake The Book of Elys. Larissa approached him in time to watch it smolder into ash. She broke his concentration, pointing to the chamber's port. "Zevon...he comes."

At that time, the dark wizard shattered the barrier holding him from the room, and stepped through the threshold. "Ixalis...the book...make this easy."

Ixalis moved away from the pillar to show him the ashen pile where The Book of Elys had once been. Zevon's eyes flared, he crackled with mad energy that seemed to erupt from him. He began to raise his hand, the crackling energy streaming out from his fingertips, but Ixalis caught him with a bolt of primal energy that knocked him back through the threshold. The mad wizard stood, shaken, but did not lose his maniacal resolve. He snarled and came toward them once again. This time, both Larissa and Ixalis threw bolts of energy his way. He deflected both, which erupted into the walls of the chamber behind him, and began to shake the entire mountain. Again and again he deflected their blows, knocking more and more of the stone walls to the ground, their resonating vibration within the mount growing more and more, until entire slabs of the walls begin to fall around them.

Ixalis turned, grabbing up one of the books, and shoved it to Larissa. As he turned to retrieve the other, Zevon was upon him, knocking him aside and taking The Book of Titus for himself. "Now, my dear, bring me the other one...or I shall have your hea-ucht!"

Behind him, Roderick had silently plunged one of his swords through the chest of the dark mage. Instantly, he let out a surge of power, knocking the battle-mage back. The sword remained in him, a black ichor seeping out of the wound, encasing the sword in pure darkness.

Ixalis rose to his feet, turning away from the chaos, as stone still continued to shatter down all around them. He turned his hand in a circle and opened a portal out of the chamber. Larissa, still gripping The Book of Hydriss, moved toward the portal. Before stepping through, she turned back after Roderick. He was already on his feet, moving toward her. Stopping, he waved his hand at her, then turned back to Zevon. Gripping the sword, his hands sinking in the oozing blackness all around it, he withdrew it from the dark wizard and began to strike him with it. Larissa tried to move to him, to help him, but Ixalis gripped her and drug her through the portal. Her last sight was of Roderick channeling his energy through the sword, and then there was a vast explosion that lapped at her face just before the portal closed...



Four Hundred Years Later
An uncharted island

Larissa stood before a group of mages. She bowed before them, then turned to Ixalis. "Master Ixalis, The Book of Hydriss is yours now." She handed him the malfean tome, hidden in a grand casket of cloth.

Ixalis, his age now nearing one-thousand years, was finally overtaking him. He spoke as loud as he could, his eyes trained on the girl, nearly as old as he, who had not aged since that fateful day almost half a millennium ago. "This place will mark a tomb of great importance. Here we will enshroud this tome from the rest of the world. We will bring all of our kind here, in hopes to keep that which desires power away from these shores. The Glass Tower will be our lighthouse. Our search will continue for The Book of Titus, and of the body of Zevon, though we shall still hope that both were destroyed four hundred years ago. Until we are sure, this book will remain in this tomb, the tower itself, shielded as best it can be by the greatest powers...the greatest minds...and the dearest of friends..."

 

[CainAndrews]

The Book of Hydriss - Chapter 3: Of Politics and Foreshadowing

The Elder Lands
200 Years Before
The Creation of
The Glass Tower

A tear rolled along Larissa's cheek. It fell from her chin, splashing against the straps of the black gown she had adorned for this evening. The voice of her old friend, Ixalis, broke her sullen reverie.

"We have come here, on these hallowed grounds, to dedicate a moment...a memory...to those we have lost. The taint left by the dark wizard Zevon has seeped throughout the lands. Even now, though his physical form has been shattered, he influences and corrupts those in power. He has sent them upon us, bringing war to our homes and our keeps, in an effort to weaken those who have the will and the power to stop him."

"The inquisition - the great plague of persecution - has been called out against magic-users. They blame us for the devastation they have brought upon themselves. Because we have remained neutral, because we chose not to involve ourselves in the meanderings of kings and of lords, instead seeking knowledge and enlightenment...they have turned against us and sent their dogs to hunt us. And yet, they succeed. They have brought down our brothers and sisters with the help of steel and sword."

He began to step through the crowd of gathered mages, his voice dropping in tone to match the somber underpinnings of the evening. "At this moment, I know in some of you there is anger, resentment, a desire for restitution and vengeance. I implore you...turn away from your emotions. We can not bring war upon the nations of Man, for this is what Zevon desires. He would see more of us fall, and for us to thin out the armies of man to the point where they could not defend against him or his ilk should they decide to show themselves. We know that before his "death" two hundred years ago, he had consorted with demons and wicked celestials to gain his power. Obviously they gave him the ability to ignore death, and to instill the same corruption he had in life from whatever realm we had sent him to."

"Now, what I would suggest, we should seclude ourselves from the world. We should hide away and fortify our havens so that their inquisition yields no results. Once they have forgotten about us, once they have lost the will to hunt us, only then should we stop running - stop hiding. I do not command this, for I do not consider myself your leader - I am your equal; but this is what I will do, and for the sake of the world, I beg you do the same."

With that, he placed his hand upon Larissa's shoulder, motioned to his apprentice - Silas - and stepped away from the gathering. Larissa followed after him.

"Master Ixalis...we must talk. The book...what would you have me do with it?"

He turned to look upon the girl, his face stoic and nearly blank. He motioned Silas to continue on without him. "My dear, your task is to hide it away. Keep it safe, until ever I call upon you to deliver it to me. Do not let any know that we took it away from that accursed place so long ago. And if ever you find away to destroy it, do not hesitate to do so. Never open its cover, never read from its pages. You must keep yourself hidden, lest Zevon learns of your whereabouts. You know he would send all he has under his command after you."

He turned and continued on after his apprentice, disappearing into the mist of the forest around them. Larissa looked back upon the gathering, then slinked off on a separate path. Each of them would not see each other for nearly two hundred years.


The Glass Tower
One Century After
Its Construction

Ixalis stood in the center of the courtyard, the sky ablaze with sunlight and wispy wind. Larissa stood to his left, Silas to his right. He raised his hands to hush the crowd.

"Today marks an historical occasion for us, my friends. Today we open our doors to the first official class of our grand Academy. We mark this day in our minds, and document it for those who come after us. Today we will no longer fear the persecution that has plagued us for the past three centuries. We now have our own kingdom, our own haven, where law and blade can not touch us. We have always sought peace and elevation, not war and bigotry. Now, we shall prosper where once we ran, where once we hid from the world. We have survived this long on our ingenuity and our ability, and now we pass what we have learned on to our youngest generations. Forever shall we seek them out and offer them safe passage on the road that is the pursuit of enlightenment. Let this day be remembered...now...class is in session!"

Ixalis smiled upon the assembly as hearty cheers rang out around him. He clasped his hands together, gave a bow to the young mages who had agreed to be the first students of the academy, then turned and walked through the threshold of the citadel. Larissa and Silas both followed in line.

After they had cleared the first floor through the portal system, stepping out into Ixalis' chambers, Silas spoke. "Master, what of the child? You said you could feel it too...a gnawing...I don't know how to explain it myself. An aura about him. Foreign..."

Ixalis sighed and looked to Larissa. The boy in question was one of the students - Jacob Miras - who had shown an exceptional aptitude in wizardly arts. "There is no way for us to know what it is, Silas. We treat him like any other, until there is reason to worry or to act. Right now, we could attribute this to his substantial degree of control he shows for someone his age."

"Now, as for the students. We must pour every ounce of effort into ensuring they are taught all they can learn. Defense, impartiality, the importance of just and right uses of magic. It would be a inexcusable to approach the teachings with half-marked effort. They are the future...they are the future..."

 

[CainAndrews]

Present day - a field, a town, a man...

The young man dismounted his horse, dropping to the soft ground, stepping closer to the animal carcass that lay before him. The horse gruffed, trotting back and forth in a restless manner. The animal was one of his own, a cow, but it would be hard to tell that by what was left. It's hind-quarters had been chewed apart from the rest of the body and lay a few feet away in an almost digested state. The skin had been peeled off the rest, and out of the mouth, nose, and ears seeped a disgusting black liquid. This was the third this week. Whatever was doing this had to be nearby. The pattern of these attacks was just at the border of his father's lands, where the fields met the forests of Northgate, just beyond the town with the same name.

He shook his head and turned to rejoin his horse and head back, just in time to miss the form moving out of the woods behind him. It tackled him, knocking him onto his face. He turned, having just enough time to pull the minuscule sword - a crudely-made, rusted thing - from his belt. The beast erupted with a roar, and soon another flew down from the sky, seemingly appearing from nowhere, to join it. The hissed and flailed in a gruesome manner, moving closer to the man. His eyes were wide, trained on these black beasts - almost dragon-like but not anything he had ever seen or heard of - inching his direction. He opened his mouth to let out a scream, but none came...