Hatu was violently tossed and crushed against the seemingly ephemeral walls of a dark, yet glowing tunnel of force. He remembered it was a spell. Magic of such magnitude that to cast it, it took the combined strength of his enemies all gathered together.

Inwardly, despite the wrenching pain and the waves of agony pummeling his mind, he laughed. The miserable bastards had to combine their forces just to handle him. All their magic was not enough to tear him apart. The hungry ether will have to wait for his dark and maleficent spirit.

He had been blasted with fire and lightning, struck down by massive bolts of force, thrown to turbulent blade winds, driven to searing pits of magically created magma, and even forced down into the crushing depths of the sea. Yet he survived. Battered, wounded, and diminished. But still existing.

The entire divine assembly had to resort to this cowardly spell and throw him out of his reality. But Hatu promised himself that he’ll be back. He’ll make them all pay dearly for the treachery and wrongs they’ve done him. Even entities he thought weren’t involved in his grudge wars were there on the other side. And to think he scrupulously tried to avoid inflicting his brand of destruction on their worthless domains.

He’ll be back, Hatu promised himself again. But first, he had to survive whatever is coming. Or where he was going.

***

Then the dark entity suddenly hit a massive wall of magical energy. Amidst soul-breaking torment, the powerful, propelling spell forced him through the ostensibly solid obstruction. Yet Hatu didn’t cry out in pain. No, he wouldn’t give anyone that satisfaction. But the mortifying torture which threatened to tear him apart in mind and body felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, he was free. His face smashed against gravel and sand, and the armor he wore painfully pressed against his body, adding to the suffering. His eyes remained closed, and his breathing continued to race in tune with his rushing heartbeats. But the physical and mental anguish now had lessened, and only the throbbing of his hurt muscles remained.

But a massive, hazy fog now clouded his mind. He could feel memories slipping away, and the faster his mind tried to hold on to them, the quicker they disappeared. Calming himself, Hatu tried to focus on what he could recall. Still, even as the mental exercise brought to the fore whatever he could remember, such recollections were swiftly swept away by some unknown force.

Then he finally realized what was happening to him. He was intentionally being emptied of what he could remember. Hatu doubted if it was his enemies, they were too weak. It must have been that massive obstruction at the end of the spell.

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Hatu struggled mightily to retain what he had left, what he could remember. But to no avail. At the end of several minutes of the mental struggle, all he had left was his name, a memory of what he was, and that his name meant ruin and devastation.

He stood up shakily. Swirling dust obstructed Hatu’s sight. Surprisingly, his body was still whole, and his right hand continued to grip the battle hammer - he expected to be missing an extremity or two. Hatu inspected himself and was shocked to see red blood flowing out of numerous cuts and wounds.

Did they turn me to a mortal? The furious thought rose swiftly in his mind.  A fit of awakened anger made him instinctively strike the ground with whatever strength he could muster. A loud boom rang throughout the landscape. Numerous long fissures appeared from the point of impact. Then he noticed that the handle of the battle hammer had lengthened to accommodate the overhead swing.

I still have some magic, thought a relieved Hatu.

A swift examination confirmed that indeed, he still had magical power. Greatly diminished for some reason, a mere shadow of the mighty power he once was. It was acceptable given the circumstances, and magical power could be increased.

But having a mortal form greatly disturbed him. No, disturbed was too weak a word, decided Hatu. He was raging mad. Yet true to his nature, it was a cold and calculating fury. He never was one to lose his wits about him. Creating ruinous devastation was far more effective and wide-ranging when done methodically.

A quick magical exercise immediately healed him of his wounds. Healing only took a small amount of power, unless the injuries were severe or life-threatening. His body still ached though, and a vague recollection of being thrown through a stormy, unforgiving gauntlet came back. With it, a hazy memory of his enemies. Yet efforts to remember more were fruitless.

Hatu put such concerns aside when he noticed that the dust storm was dying out. A quick glance at his rear revealed nothing except more of the obscuring dust. As the dirt cloud slowly receded, he could see the outline of a tall object before him. He stood where he was, waiting for better visibility. No telling what was lurking ahead.

A tall rock structure posed on a small rocky ridge greeted him. It was evidently not man-made. Hatu could make out the marks of erosion which had scrubbed out the softer material surrounding the tower of natural rock. As he gazed on the lonely landmark, alone in the middle of what appeared to be a vast, desolate plane, Hatu sensed a few embers of magical power.

He glanced back again, looking back to where he was thrown from, and then returned his gaze to the natural formation. A magical anchor, he surmised. One which attracted the power of the spell which drove him from his world. The process must have drained the energy of the landmark. Yet, the observation gave him hope. Where one magical artifact existed, more could be found.

A predatory grin appeared on Hatu’s face when he realized the implications of his observation. All he needed was to grow in magical strength, mighty enough to force an opening back to his world, and retain enough power to crush his enemies. He had already found the anchor in this world. One which was apparently connected to his reality. It’s a start.

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