On one fateful night in the bygone era where the trickle of time was quantified by how long the Forsaken War has lasted. Two boys were to be conceived, one for the righteous and noble Lord of Castalar and the other for the Dark Lord who bears the mélanos' flame. For all his righteousness the Lord of Castalar was not found by the bedside of his wife where his child would be born of this world. The Lord instead transpires with his most faithful and stalwart friend and soldier on diverting some of the power of the crest of Castalar for a chance to kill the Dark Lord while he is weakened and his soon to be born child. The soldier knows this will be a one way trip for him but may give them a chance to tip the scales of the Forsaken War. So the Lord channels the power of the crest and infuses his soldier, his friend for the final fight of the soldier’s life. Then the soldier is teleported into the midst of the dark Lord’s castle. Making haste the soldier heads toward where he can sense the Dark Lord’s mélanos flame brimming with unbridled power. For he knows that the mages already sensed and tried to deter his teleportation into the castle. Rushing through corridors so as to hopefully reach the Dark Lord and his new born before any mages or guards make it there to defend him. The soldier finally reaches the antechamber of the Dark Lord with much less resistance than expected. Opening the door he pounces on a man dressed in royal black garments. Seeing shock in his eyes and then just as soon cold fury replaced it. The man in a blur of motion braces himself for the soldier’s lunge and catches the soldier’s outstretched arm, but not before a few inches of cold hard steel penetrates his chest. While the soldier tries to pull his sword arm free of the man’s grasp his arm lights up in black flame outlined in white. Knowing that his arm is lost not only to the flame but the deathly infection that comes with it. The soldier pulls his dagger from his sheath with his free arm and infusing it with power cuts his sword arm off from the shoulder down. He then quickly casts a small flame spell to cauterize his shoulder.

“I know you have come for my life but you will not take the life of my child and wife” the Dark Lord wheezed out as speckles of blood come out with every word.

The soldier knowing the wound and the poison coating his blade will take the Dark Lord soon. Does not respond but stretches out his one remaining are and starts to form the cleansing rune sigil to rid the world of the evil that is the mélanos flame. Right when the final lines of the sigil are to be formed the Dark Lord goes to release the last vestiges of his powers, but a powerful nullification spell is cast and another walks from the shadows as though he were made of them. The soldier feeling no small amount of panic to rise in his chest, but the Dark Lord looks relieved. That is until the unknown man slashed with a blade of shadows and cuts off the Dark Lords head. He then looks at the soldier and says in the most friendly and gentlemanly tone

“I am so delighted your good Lord took my bait and decided to send an assassin now I can take the throne of the Dark Lord and the mélanos flame of his and his son’s for myself. Then blame you to redouble the war effort. So now would you kindly die for me?”

While the shadowy figure gave his little monologue the soldier tried to inconspicuously reach for his belt pouch with his remaining arm. Sifting through his pouch he felt what he needed by how scalding it was to the touch. Waiting for the opportune moment the soldier threw the bottle of sealed hellfire at the shadowy figure and activated a shield spell hoping that the power of the seal infused in him would be enough to handle the coming explosion.

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Far away in Castalar a baby cried weakly while the archmage examined it. “So what of my child is he strong and fitting of our noble lineage” came a regal and authoritative female voice from a bed not far away. The archmage stoically but with a slight tremor of fear in his respond “The boy is very feeble physically and has no latent power. He may not even make it through the night your majesty.” Turn to look at the Lady of Castalar. The archmage found her staring unflinching in a mask anger at the baby in his hands. For she despised the baby she conceived for his weakness and transpired to have it killed. Finally after a long silence she ordered everyone out except for the archmage and his young apprentice who formally was a talented witch. “We will dispose of it since my husband decided he has matters of more import than the birth of his son and clearly this thing is loathed by the heavens themselves and undeserving of our lineage. This matter does not leave this room.” Snapped the Lady. “But …” started the apprentice before the archmage cut saying “ of course lady it will be done as wish and no one else will find out about it. The baby will be disposed of thoroughly, but what do you plan on tell the Lord?” “I will tell him that our child was feeble and did not live but a short time until he succumbed. So grief stricken I was I demanded that you be rid of his body for the mere sight shatters my heart into a thousand pieces.” She said with theatrical tears. Not wasting a moment the archmage wrapped the baby in linens and cast a silence spell so no one could hear his muffled cries as him and his apprentice walked out of the castle into the night.

Everything tasted like ash and hurt all over as the soldier disoriented from explosion tried desperately to free himself from the rubble with his one arm. As he progressed and the ringing in his ears started to fade he could the distant cries of a baby. Finally free himself he rushed to where the cries came from and found a chaotic a scene. There lay the baby in a clearing crying as more black flames erupted and tried to spread but were suppressed by a nullification field. Looking closer the soldier found the source of the nullification field lying a couple yards from the baby a small relic round with ancient glyphs inscribed on it. The soldier circumventing the baby to reach the relic carefully avoided spots of black flames that were spreading towards him. Reaching the relic he picked it up and try to decipher the glyphs on it but only got a sharp pain in his head from looking too long. He then approached the baby cautiously with the relic stretched out in his arm. Looking down on the baby he knew what his duty to his Lord and all of his nation was to do, but seeing the helplessness of the baby and how he cried for a mother who would never come. The soldier knowing his Lord was watching from the lingering power of the crest in him muttered “I’m just so tired my old friend.” He then secured the relic with some string around the babies neck and wrapped the baby in the remnants of his tattered shirt. Not one second after picking up the baby in his remaining arm. Did he narrowly avoid an arrow to the face. Looking to rubble of that was this side of the castle he saw multiple guards and mages sprinting in his direction. Using the last bit of his power he was given not only to escape but to break the bond with his Lord. He teleported into the night.