When Eldora didn't return to their usual meeting spot, Galen knew something was wrong. But he was tasked with a seemingly mundane mission by Alaric: to retrieve a rare herb from the city's outskirts, believed to enhance magical potency.
Unbeknownst to Galen, the herb was a key component in necromantic experiments. Galen thought it to be a simple task and set out swiftly. However, his path was altered when he noticed disturbances in the air, a signature of dark magic he had not felt before.
Meanwhile, he overheard conversations on his way and saw the fear in the eyes of commoners as they spoke of loved ones gone, including Eldora. One particular whisper caught his attention, "They say the Mage's Tower is involved," but before he could learn more, he made a detour.
Entering Alaric's sanctum was like stepping into the heart of a storm; the air was charged with magic, the walls adorned with artifacts of power. Alaric himself sat upon a throne of dark wood, his presence commanding, his eyes sharp but unreadable.
Galen, despite his loyalty, felt a chill of doubt. "High Mage," he began, his voice steady but with a sense of urgency, "there are rumors, whispers of the commoners disappearing. Is there truth to these tales?"
Alaric's gaze was like ice, his expression one of feigned concern. "Ah, Galen, you've noticed the unrest. These are troubled times, indeed, but I assure you, the tower is not involved in such matters." His voice was smooth, persuasive, yet there was a shadow in his eyes, a flicker of something darker.
He continued, "Perhaps they've left Arcano, or fallen to some misfortune in the wilds outside our walls. We are investigating, but these are commoner affairs, not the work of mages."
Galen, searching for any sign of deceit, found none in Alaric's demeanor, yet the absence of truth was palpable. Alaric's words were too rehearsed, his dismissal of the issue too swift.
Leaving the tower with more questions than answers, he followed the unnatural currents and soon found himself in a part of Arcano he'd never ventured into, where the city's magic felt tainted. Here, hidden beneath an old, moss-covered well, he discovered a mechanism that, once activated by his wind magic, opened to reveal a staircase descending into darkness.
The descent into the lab was like entering another world. The walls were smeared with blood and the stench of decay. In the first chamber, he saw the mummies in various stages of creation, some with flesh peeled back to reveal bone, others with their organs removed, replaced by dark, pulsing magic.
Among these horrors, he stumbled upon a few ledgers, pages soaked in blood, describing the transformation of living to undead, the draining of life force for Alaric's army! It turned out that Alaric, the High Mage, harbored a secret darker than the shadows cast by his tower. His ambition to maintain control over the city led him to delve into forbidden arts, into necromancy, a magic shunned by all ethical mages.
The disappearances of commoners were not random; they were part of Alaric's sinister plan to create an army of mummies, undead beings bound to his will, a force that would ensure his rule even if his magic waned.
This revelation was the turning point for Galen; the realization that his master was behind such darkness shattered any allegiance he might have felt.
Moving deeper into the lab, guided by both the wind's whispers and a growing dread, Galen heard cries of pain. There, in a dungeon below, he found Eldora, bound and on the brink of mutilation. Vex, with a cruel smile, was about to amputate her arm, believing it would further his latest experiment.
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He was a figure of terror, his presence alone enough to drain the warmth from the air. He was tall, almost skeletal. His eyes were black pits, devoid of any humanity, flickering with the same green glow as the torches that lit his macabre workshop. His hair was long and lank, falling around his face like shadows, and his fingers were long, each nail sharpened to points, as if designed for the very act of rending flesh.
Galen, fueled by anger and love, acted swiftly. He created a gust so fierce it knocked Vex down, disrupting his work. He used the wind to manipulate the shackles, the air currents loosening the chains with precision he had never before achieved, freeing Eldora before Vex could awaken.
Eldora, weak from her ordeal, her body still bleeding but intact, looked at Galen with eyes wide with both fear and gratitude. "Galen..." she whispered, her voice a mix of pain and relief.
With Vex momentarily stunned, Galen knew they had mere moments. He summoned a whirlwind around them for protection, the wind lifting dust and debris, creating a blinding, confusing barrier. He whispered words of healing, his magic mingling with the wind, enough to staunch Eldora's bleeding but not enough to fully heal her.
Together, they navigated back through the lab, the wind guiding their steps, muffling their escape. At the entrance, they faced one last obstacle: Vex, now recovered and enraged, his dark magic swirling around him. They encountered more of Vex's creations, mummies that shambled towards them, but Galen's wind spells dispersed them, their fragile bodies unable to withstand the force.
Galen, his heart now fully committed to Eldora and the commoners, unleashed a tempest. The wind was not just air but a force of his newfound resolve, lifting both him and Eldora, carrying them up through the well, back into the night of Arcano.
Once outside, the fresh air was like a balm, but the burden of what they had seen weighed on them. They knew the truth had to be shared, not just to honor the fallen but to ignite a rebellion.
"I can't go back to that," Galen said, his voice firm, looking at Eldora with eyes that had seen too much. "I can't serve a master who would do this. I'm with you, with the commoners, now and forever."
Eldora, despite her pain, managed a weak smile. "Then let's fight together. For my parents, for all of them."
Galen created a protective bubble around them, ensuring they could move undetected through the city. They planned to expose Alaric's lab, to rally the commoners, to show them the true face of their ruler.
They had to move with caution, for the eyes and ears of Alaric's loyalists were everywhere. Their plan was to spread the word quietly, like seeds in the wind, until the ground was fertile for rebellion.
Galen used his wind magic in ways he had never before considered. He whispered the truth through the air, his spells carrying the news on the gentlest breezes, ensuring only those who needed to hear would understand the message. He would stand in the market, his magic subtly influencing the wind to carry his voice to the commoners who gathered, masking his words from the mages who watched from above.
Eldora, with her natural leadership and the trust she commanded among the commoners, used more traditional means. She met in secret with key figures in the community – those who ran the small stalls, the healers, the farmers. She shared the horrors they had seen, the names of the missing now known to be victims of Alaric.
Together, they held clandestine gatherings under the cover of night, in places where the magic of Arcano was least felt – in the narrow alleys, hidden gardens, or within the shadow of the city's walls. Here, they spoke of the lab, of Alaric's sin, of the mummies beneath the city. Each tale was passed from one commoner to another, the truth becoming a torch in the darkness of their oppression.
In the dark sanctum of the Mage's Tower, Vex, his eyes glowing with the malice of his dark art, knelt before Alaric. "Our secrets are no longer safe," he uttered with a chilling voice. "Galen, your apprentice, has seen our work. He's spread word of our experiments. The commoners are preparing to rise."
Alaric's face, usually composed, contorted with rage. "And you let him escape?" His voice was like a whip.
Vex chuckled, "I've already made a plan for this. Our response will be their downfall." His smile was a promise of horror.