1 The Mage

With each step I came closer to my goal. My vision blocked by the dark shadows, my ears catching the slightest sounds around me. The gentle sound of water drops echoed through the stone halls. Beside me, a fellow mage hesitantly followed, he was afraid of getting caught but he had faith in me that I wouldn't let us get caught, that was the least of my worries though. I was lucky enough to have him come along, he practically begged to come along. It's unfortunate really— ever since we were children, he has spent years longing for my approval. He always gave me his undying loyalty even though I didn't ask for it. He would certainly regret giving me his loyalty once we were done. As we approached a large wooden door, Grimwit handed me the torch so he could pull the keys out of his robes. It was obvious he was nervous— his hands were shaking as he shuffled through the many keys on the ring to find the right one. The key to the door was bronze— despite all the other keys being rusted from time, this one was in perfect condition. Not a single scratch or dent, it looked as though it was made this morning. Grimwit slid the key into the keyhole, twisting it with a click. He turned his head and gave me a concerned look. During this entire trip to the Dead Halls of Dire Grimwit didn't ask a single question. Not even a simple; "What are we doing here?"

I only gave him a stern look before pushing open the door. My boot nudged the heavy door further. As soon as I stepped in the room the torches lining the walls lit up.

Grimwit followed inside, the door shutting slowly behind us. The walls were covered in red paint, dripping down the old stones like blood— it looked more like blood than paint. On the wall on the other side of the door, there was a face. Well, a head more like. The face was broken, it looked as though someone came in and took a sledgehammer to it. My face contorted into a grimace the longer I looked at it, just looking at it made me feel uneasy. I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me, staring daggers into my body. I approached the stone tablet in the center of the room. My arm pushing my robes aside to unsheathe the Sword of Deorwyn the Undead— the sword better known as Amkoeh. As a child, my mother would always tell me about the magical artifacts and weapons around Lios. Amkoeh being the most popular despite its former owner being lost in the history books. Some say Deorwyn the Undead was killed by the Cëvvoh himself— and that was why his legacy got lost in the books. They also said Amkoeh had the ability to revive the dead, hence why its owner was called "The Undead." It was all in the past. Now I have Amkoeh. For years I searched for a way to restore the Light of the Ovrou back into the blade. Many years ago, the elves of Oih'ln blessed Amkoeh with their Light. The blade would forever remain new and untarnished, but after Deorwyn the Undead died, the Light within it went back to the Great Vault underneath Oih'ln. What I was attempting now would strengthen the blade enough to withhold the Light of the Ovrou once again.

A fireproof plan, I kept telling myself… Albeit, I had no way to get into the Great Vault to retrieve the Light— I would figure that out later. As I stepped further into the small, cold room, I let my anxieties fade into the back of my mind. I have an objective, I'm not going to let my fears and doubts ruin my only chance of this. The sound of the blade getting unsheathed echoed in the room, causing the mage beside me to jump. I scoffed under my breath as I laid the blade on the stone tablet, as soon as the blade touched the stone I felt a surge of energy shoot up my arm. It disappeared as fast as it came. The feeling sent chills down my spine, I hadn't felt something like that since the first time I used magic. It was most likely the room I stood in, it was a room dedicated to the Cëvvoh- the most successful mage Lios has ever seen… And the most dangerous. Even though the Cëvvoh wasn't buried here, I could feel his energy around everything in the room. It felt as though he was there with me. With a deep breath, I pulled out a curved rigged dagger. The edge of the blade was lined with red paint, looking as though it had blood stained on it. I made this blade when I was a teenager, about five years ago. I carried it with me ever since, 'm unsure why though. It looked terrible, it wasn't smoothed out, it had dents and cracks all over it. The handle was barely hanging onto the blade. I grimaced slightly at the terribly-made dagger, I should really get a new one… I was pulled from my thoughts when Grimwit pulled on my sleeve. I shot him a glare before looking back at Amkoeh. I sighed, glancing over at Grimwit once more.

"Give me some space, Grimmy." I said, my voice cracked as nervousness shook my bones. What if this doesn't work? Does that mean I was lied to about my heritage? Shaking my worries away before unclasping my robes, the thin brown fabric slid down my body and pooled around my feet. Underneath my tunic was made of dragon hide— something that wasn't easy to find. In fact, I spent half of my life savings on this one outfit. This outfit was one I was going to rule in— at least that's what I hope for. Taking the dagger, he dug it into his palm and let the blood spill out, "Do you have the potion?" I asked, holding my hand expectedly. I heard clothes shuffling, moments later a small vile was place on my palm. Pulling my arm back, I opened my palm and inspected the vile momentarily. Smirking in satisfaction, I popped off the cork with my thumb.

I held the vile over the sword, setting the dagger on the stone table I held my injured hand over the sword. "Repeat after me," I said softly. "From the Underworlds, I call out to the Cëvvoh, the Ruler of the Underworld, to lend me your power." I tilted the vile slowly, the transparent liquid sizzled as soon as it hit the blade, my blood sizzled and stained the metal as it dripped down. "Hand in hand, with blood of the same. I call out to you, assist me in my journey to rise the dead." Once I stopped, Grimwit held his hands together and lowered his head in prayer as he repeated my words, uncertainty lacing through his voice.

"I trust you won't tell anyone of this, Grimwit." I turned my head to look at him. He lifted his head, brows furrowing in worry. He shook his head, indicating that he wouldn't tell anyone. For a moment, I could see fear flash through his eyes. He was scared, per usual. Smiling reassuringly, I looked back at the blade. The letters engraved into the metals were glowing a soft blue, indicating that the power and energy of the Cëvvoh was now in the sword. "We're finished here," I picked up the sword, sheathing it before sheathing my dagger as well. I leaned down and picked up my robes, clasping the collar together. "Lead the way, dear friend."

Grimwit sucked in a breath, moving to the door and opening it. He held it open for me, how sweet. I offered a polite smile and let Grimwit move past me to lead us out of the Temple. The other mage halted his steps suddenly, looking over his shoulder to give me a worried expression. Rolling my eyes, I put a hand on my hip and stared back at him. "What is it now? Did you see a ghost or something?

"What- uh no! It's just… Prayer hour is here, I can hear them chanting outside." Grimwit forced a smile on his face. This boy wasn't exactly confident in anything.

Scoffing, I shoved him aside and walked towards the front gate. "They're in the middle of the session, they won't even notice we're here." I smirked, pushing the heavy wooden door open with my forearm and hand. My eyes watered as the bright sunlight hit my face, squinting, I raised a hand to block it out. As I predicted, the other mages didn't even realize the gate opened. I waved a hand for Grimwit to follow. As I began to walk down the steps, I noticed a fleet of horses stationed some ways away from the temple. Furrowing my brows in confusion, I kept walking— trying to ignore the sensation of anxiety creeping up my neck.

Halting my steps, I turned my head to admire the great oak tree on the cliff side. "Grimmy, go get our horses ready. I'll be back." I glanced at Grimwit to make sure he heard me before walking towards the oak tree. Intuition was pulling me towards it— guiding me towards it would be the correct term for how I was feeling. Approaching the oak tree, I stepped closer to sit down on the bench that was placed there. Down the cliff was the city of Dire. Rivers splitting the city into regions, tall, sandy buildings surrounding the Capital, towards the entrance of the city the buildings got smaller and closer together. I smiled, an expression that I was never genuine about- not because I didn't want to show people that kind of weakness, but because I failed to have the ability to do so. I could smile, but I failed to make it genuine no matter how much I tried. The inability to show genuine emotions, a blessing and a curse working as one. The crunch of leaves pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Ah, Grimwit said you were over here." A deep raspy voice said. I hummed in acknowledgement as I stood from the bench. Turning towards the man, I bowed and locked my hands behind my back. I certainly wasn't expecting to see the King so far away from the Capital.

"My apologies, Your Majesty-"

"Now, no need to apologize. I was planning on speaking with you later tonight, but I might as well do it now that we're both here." The King smiled, gesturing at the bench. "Please, sit." He said before sitting down himself. I nodded, moving to sit beside him. His Majesty didn't speak for a few minutes, he sat admiring the city his ancestors thrived to build.

"My nephew's coronation is in two weeks. But, I can't be there for it because of pressing matters across the sea." He said disappointed. "I'm sending out two of my councilmen to go in my place, but they need protection for the journey."

"I take it you want me to go as well?" I asked, it wouldn't be the first. The King has always sent me on errands, it wasn't surprising that he wanted me to go now.

Nodding, "I do, you can decline if you wish. I won't force you to go." He smiled, standing once more. "You can think over it for now, let me know by tomorrow night what your decision is." Holding a hand over his heart in farewell, he left the scene- leaving me with my thoughts. Nimilon is closer to the Great Vault in O'rinion, maybe their library had more information on it. Frowning, I stood and adjusted my robes. I could consult with the Queen of O'rinion, but with the death of her husband she has been in a bad mood as of late; I'd like to keep my head for a little while longer.

---

My breath left my mouth as I shut my eyes; the crisp cold air kissed my exposed skin as the world around me seemed to fade to nothing while I sat in the wet grass. The air smelled like burning firewood and rotting animal- an interesting mix of scents. I grimaced slightly at the smell, but continued to focus nonetheless. The ground beneath my legs began to shift, now feeling like I was on top of a soft bed. I opened my eyes, four figures sat around me in a circle. The figures had a green-blue hue to them; they lit up the area around them with a soft light. It was always a pleasant sight to see. Seeing them gave me a sense of relief… And regret.

I forced a smile on my face as I looked at the figure across from me. The figure grinned back at me, his arm moving to rest on his lap. "What was it that you needed, Youngling?" The figure spoke. His voice sent shivers down my spine, putting a face to the voice I always hear in my head is frightening in a way. The things he's had me do… Of course this isn't the first I've seen of him.

I lowered my head. "I don't have a plan, my Lord." I replied quietly, I watched my fingers dance together nervously in my lap.

"And you've come for my guidance?" The figure added with a raised brow. I nodded, lifting my head once more to meet his eyes.

"If I may, Lord Draco- I do have one idea.."