Chapter I - Hope

There it was, the Castle of Venderaal, planted high upon snow capped mountains with sheer drops and crooked edges. Stone as black as coal. Its towers pierced the clouds like a knife slicing through a thick blanket . A figure covered in a coat of thick fur crosses the smoothed surface towards the Keeps entrance. A sudden thump occurred when the man slipped upon the ice. "Bugger!" he groaned, aching and groaning as he picked himself back up and brushed the snow off himself: His gruelling pilgrimage was over: In front of him faced dark oak doors, twice the size of him.

Darkness, an emptiness, a void that consumes every speck of light was broken by the opening of the doors, a bright light cast across the room with the shape of the black figure defined by the white sky behind him. Bringing the small flood of snow accompanying him. His fur garments drop off him as he walks further into the poorly lit room. He raises his left hand ever so slightly, shaking from the cold. And then with the click of his fingers, torches burn ablaze with wild flames. Mounted on arches supporting the large corridor.

Paved with tiles with a red strip of carpet lined till the end, if there was one. It appeared to last forever.... At first thought. On either side; two chalices were mounted on miniature pillars. One containing a liquid black in colour. Stone walls smoothed out and sculpted to depict tales of legends long forgotten by man. Tales of winged beasts, massacre of innocents and men possessed with greed and savagery.

Embers of the torch reveals who this figure was. an old face, aged by war and torment, an unkept beard, gray with a tinge of black. A reminder that he once brimmed with youth, with long split hair to match: His mouth dry and cracked, Nose red : contrasting with the pale completion of his skin. His Eyes were dark blue, as if the oceans were encased in this old face. The robes he wore hid his large stomach: His attire gave the appearance of hierarchy and wealth, navy with silver embroidered into it. Wet from the melted snow that persisted through the discarded fur left on the ground.

The old man reached into his pocket to reveal a copper coin with a more youthful appearance of himself was imprinted onto it, the other side captured the phrase "Maximum telum est scientia Dei" - "Knowledge is the greatest weapon". He flipped it into the air and flicked it into the corridor. A transparent film rippled like water from the impact. A continuous effect that masked reality with a simple illustration. He looked upon the empty cup, where he took out a knife made of bone and scored a line down his palm drawing blood. Red in colour, but as it touched upon the chalice's surface, it purged into a black liquid. The film started to heat up and turn to embers, burning away the illusion of an endless corridor and unveiling a wooden door. The old man took his knife and stripped the cascaded fur to create a makeshift bandage, "not the best thing to use but it will do" he thought to himself as it went round his hand, dressing the fresh cut. He opened the mysterious door once shielded by an illusion. The first thing which hit him what's the breath of warm fresh air, the Breeze coated him with a sense of familiarity and comfort. It was as if life finally found him again at last.

What this old man saw, what he could smell, hear was not what he even possibly imagined. The scent of lavender and the sweetness honeysuckle flooded his nose, he chuckled to himself, revealing his yellow teeth. Birds chirped all around him as his eyes really began to take in where he was.

Plains of land cast apart by a turquoise river leading away from a waterfall which glistened in reflection. Every blade of grass truly felt alive as they waved in sequence left and right, Thick dark spruce trees guarded this Grove from beyond what lay here, on each tree was etched a face, all with separate reactions. There was a path made along the river, leading to the source. He walked ahead towards the waterfall and on the edge were two simple wooden stools on either end of a table, upon the surface was a glass chess board with crystal white pieces and the opposition made from obsidian. Out of the turquoise pool of water emerged a man, muscles so carved perfectly that it could match the work of the greatest carpenter of all the land, his jawline cut so sharp it could cut steel. Eyes black as night and curly hair drenched from the clear pool. He wore a Black tunic with green embroidery along the edges. Underneath he was covered in fine, thin chainmail and a crown of golden thorns rested upon his head.

"A Blood Seal" he mentioned "quite fitting don't you think". "Fitting?" the Old man questioned, "indeed" the mysterious man responded " a paradise such as this cannot be created without sacrifice, how did you find it" he remarked. "Aye, very original. What's the next trial? a eye of newt? The tongue of a frog?" He responded sarcastically. The mysterious figure chuckled and placed his hand on his heart "I apologise for the theatrics, however I meant how did you know I was here, about the facade of the endless corridor?" he questioned with curiosity and yet seriousness. The old man sat on a stool facing the white side, he took a big breath and exclaimed "tales have been told, tales of people with no hope coming to this place in search of a solution, or reason to their existence. They never come back.... I'm here to see why" the young man's eyes widened as he burst out with laughter, banging the table with his heavy fist yet no pieces moved an inch. "What! " the old man replied in frustration, the young man simply just smiled, pointed to the forest and explained "you didn't see those faces mounted on those trees? You passed the test, they evidently.... did not." the old man's face slowly started turning angry. But the man continued "their bodies are gone but their souls are now being used for a greater purpose! The corridor is like a honey trap; attracts uninvited guests to roam the endless hall with hope constantly being produced" he continued with glee and ambition "they were pawns they're whole lives but look at them now! Feeding this land with all they're energy, for there to be power, sacrifices must be acquired!" the trees started to whisper, some laughed as others cried and started to bleed from there carved out lifeless eyes. "But that's wrong!" the old man exclaimed, he was about to continue but was cut off by the mysterious man "save your lectures on the preservation of life for children, why have you come to my domain? Who are you?" he said in a way that could have been considered violent. The old man finally gave up his name "I am King Thesus, ruler of the kingdoms of Narador and Salus, dozens of villages and overseer of the oceans. And I am here to bet everything for what I truly desire" the man questioned "And what may that be King Thesus, ruler of two kingdoms, dozens of villages Yadah Yadah Yadah...?"

Thesus simply replied "I wish to bring my wife back from the land of the dead"... The Man giggled which eventually turned into a howl of laughter "Really? I expected so much more! Gold! Armies! Immortality for fuck sakes but a stupid women?! Oh alright you sad old man if that's your wish, but you know who I am don't you?" Thesus answered "you are King Ferald, Lord of Sorcery and the dark arts. Ruler of Sicaria. I implore to make a trade with you. " Thesus retained his desperation with honour and integrity used to hide what was truly his beneath. Ferald saw right through his facade, bit felt no need to expose the poor old man just yet. He thought to use this to his advantage. "It seems you have nothing to barter over" Ferald spoke softly keeping his cards close to his chest. "I have coin?" Thesus responded, Ferald rolled his eyes and blurted out a groan of boredom and spoke with a lack of respect "I don't wish to be bought off by gold or silver. That's such a mundane and typical payment for something that is so valuable to you. Come, let us have a wager" Thesus look surprised and intrigued at such a concept. "I am old, and tired. I have nothing to lose" Said Thesus with such devotion yet sadness. Ferald smirked ever so slightly and spoke softly "you sure about that?" in such a way it could be deemed sinister. Thesus questioned his choice of words as Ferald planted seeds of doubt into his mind "what wager?" he asked, hoping it was not a task so gruelling and physical, he has completed enough quests and made enough legends. Ferald smiled and nodded with respect to the old King.