“Hold it steady—the transformation is nearing completion!” A stark voice ordered out, inviting a cold grasp to take hold of the air. Wrinkled men wrapped in heavy, refined blue robes filled the room. There were periodical bolts of electric energy booming, crackling forth through the silence.
An enormous orb of light sat within the room’s center, dripping down like liquid from a glass. Occasionally, a bolt would spread outward from the catalyst and lick the walls, leaving large stains of rust behind.
One man, fitted into a long and flowing regal robe, ordered out in a shrewd voice as he gestured toward the orb. “Don't you dare lose it! Keep chanting, the process is almost finished.”
He revealed a keen grin as he whispered out, “All of this power... I will be the one to save our nation, I will force them to recognize my efforts.”
Suddenly the orb began to vibrate, shaking and murmuring at an extraordinarily high frequency. This occurrence caused an eruption amongst the onlookers and practitioners as they moved into position and began countering the effects. A high gathering of energy formed from them as they each placed their hands against numerous metallic wires that sat circling the orb, wrapping the room together.
“More, we need more power!” Someone shouted as a strained expression grew on his face. His palm sat heavily atop a small pedestal that brought one wire upward, to draw upon energy from an external source.
This power, known by its most common name as magic, was a source of energy that flowed through both the world and its inhabitants as a whole. Magic was in everything, from the people to even their emotions, as mana adapted and changed alongside these aspects. A twisted emotion could give rise to cruel magic while the opposite was also true. All elements of the world were formed together and focused throughout the world through the flow of magic.
“Master Aldor!”
The numerous men around the room called out in unison as they each turned to stare at the oldest among them, their wrinkled and aged master.
“Humph,” he coughed out, “Keep up the pressure, I’ll reward you all once everything is done.” He turned to his side and crept, keeping a slow pace as his legs wobbled beneath his weight.
“I’ll take hold, too. Don’t you dare let any of this power linger away, we’re so close… After so many years.”
The orb once more vibrated, shaking the room and causing dust clouds to fall from the old ceiling above them. More and more electric bolts spread out, striking firmly against both the old walls and even the occasional practitioner, striking them dead.
A necessary sacrifice. That was what they all believed, or at least was what they had been led into believing.
The decrepit elder’s face turned bitter as he felt his lifeforce flow out from within him, being used to fuel the chamber they all stood within. Used to contain the orb.
“Yes…” he murmured, “My lives work… I will be the one to give life to a champion… To save us from the darkness and drive away evil…”
An enormous catalyst of energy collided together from all around the vibrating orb as a hypnotizing sound hummed out. The vast array of energy crackled within space, creating an odd ensemble of sound as, fused with the wild shoutings of the lowly practitioners, acted as a backtrack to the orb’s majestic thrum.
…
Elsewhere, as if drawn forth from seemingly infinite darkness, there was a single human body floating within this space. Beyond that, there was nothing else for as far as one could see. Their eyes closed, breathing halted. A dead man by all accounts. An expired body lacking any remnant of a soul.
This was a realm of death, while also residing alongside the realms of life. From the garden of corpses flowed out an ever-growing essence that continuously turned into life energy, fueling the numerous stars and magical worlds that existed throughout history. This was true for all souls that had ceased to be, ending their cycle of life.
It wasn’t reincarnation, but instead a rebirth. A rebirth of the person’s energy as the soul became nothing but aura. When one life was taken, another would be formed from this energy, but not the mind. That was how it had always worked, from the beginning of time until now. No person could return to life once their souls reached this point, for that was an absolute rule.
That being until the impossible happened.
Abruptly and without reason, his eyes shot open as his heart began to beat, seemingly breathing life into him anew.
He screamed out violently as his chest palpitated, and yet no sound could be heard. His head turned and twisted, left to right, and back again. Through his newly awakened eyes, he saw nothing. Perhaps because there was nothing to see in the first place. An empty void, a shallow afterlife.
Thoughts flowed through his mind at a grand velocity, shooting out with nowhere to go. Again, he turned his head to look, and yet once more there was nothing.
It was as if his eyes were closed, as all he could see was more and more darkness.
Until there wasn’t.
A flashing light formed in front of him, starting as a whisper, a dot.
He watched as it grew wider, expanding outward and coming to life.
He wondered as to its origin as the light came closer, revealing an aura of energy that rippled around it, like sparks to a flame.
Before the light made its way to him, however, an opposing force pulled him down. Ripping him roughly through the darkness and away from the speck of growing light. A voice spoke through him as if whispering against his ear. The voice had no clear thought or sound, but if he searched enough, he could sense a very raw and pure emotion—hatred. As if shadow itself had managed to muffle out a few faint words.
“An empty shell, a mere husk. I shall grant you my life, my memories, my intent.”
‘Intent?’ He thought, his mind being without a voice beyond that of a bland, monotone consciousness. Perhaps because his newly revived soul and body had no voice to put to memory, he had no sound that he could call his own.
“Yes, my intent. My existence as a cursed dweller of shadow. There is no light in your heart, but there is no darkness either. I shall correct this so that you may continue with my legacy and become my next reincarnation. From within you, I shall be immortal.”
The man’s head jolted back in agony as he felt his chest being shattered and reformed. His thoughts froze as shadows shrouded around him and bit his body and twisted his bones. Answers flowed through him, along with even more questions. As if his very soul had been baptized within this darkness.
“For you were born and died, a human with no past nor history. That shall be your past legacy, as it is written it shall be. From here, however, in my afterlife, I grant you eternity. Eternity as my dearest Darkheart. Now take my soul and call it your own. Let it twist and rot, my youth forever reborn.”
From within the twisting darkness, the omnipresent voice slowly began to fade, as if a serpent retreating into its nest. Soon after, a kindling of flame formed and broke through, pulling the man away from the dark and out into the light. His head lowered as his eyelids folded together.
Feeling as if his organs were burnt along with his rib-cage having been slowly split apart, he found this change from agony to tranquil peace much more enjoyable and even welcomed it. The light reformed him, turning him back into the human he believed he once was, at least physically. The corruption of darkness against his mind, however, was something that couldn‘t be so easily repelled.
Regardless of that, within the light, he felt as comfortable as a child would be as they were held in their mother’s embrace. The light that had him now was both warm and soft while the darkness that took hold of him had been frozen and sharp.
Time seemed to flow endlessly as he bathed within the light’s grasp. Pulled and carried, he had lost track of everything around him, but he truly had no complaints.
As if breaking through an egg, he heard a slight crunch and crackling as the hand that held him slowly lowered him into place. As it happened, A voice could be heard as the light slowly faded, the words spoken were unfamiliar while the voice was deep and muffled.
“... claxangick, dit nud claxangick epon! Iscipros eb Astolen, plopaxalo yeulsorvos... ke axarolt Vaxachol Ardel!”
This was in another language, clearly, but what everything meant was another question entirely. Their words seemed to carry with them an air of magic and energy as if they held power to alter anything simply through speech. He slowly peeled his eyes open, revealing a bright world around him as the orb’s light faded away.
“... Eul staxampien...” A regally wrinkled man stood to one side of the room as the light faded down, allowing this robed being the chance to watch as, before his very eyes, a man had appeared from where the orb had been. As if hatched into existence from within the blazing light.
‘What are they saying?’ The man wondered as he stared around the room. As his eyes fell upon the bright torches that burned along the walls, he felt as if his head was preparing to split in two from the overexposure. Something about these lights was much different from the ones he had been bathed in previously, even though the ones around the room now burned much dimmer.
Like a newly-born child looking out into the world for the first time.
The two parties both paused and waited, expecting the other to act first. They looked between each other, showing a bitter and confused expression.
‘Do they expect me to understand them?’ He pondered as he glanced around the room.
The words he thought were from memory, words formed naturally in his mind without him needing to concentrate. He could speculate further on their meaning and origin, but he merely assumed they came from some distant life.
As he watched them, his mind began to wander. Questions that pertained to where he was and why he had appeared here had been the first concerns that formed within his subconscious.
The most frustrating part was the obvious language barrier that existed between them, that was something not so easily traversed.
As he opened his mouth, preparing to speak aloud for the first time in his new life, an excruciating pain shot through his mind, piercing both spirit and soul.
From the corner of his eyes, he felt as if he were being haunted. A shadow sprang forth, slowly encompassing the room he stood within. The others throughout the place didn’t react though, so he could only speculate as to whether they could even see it at all.
A sinister and seemingly nostalgic voice echoed out from within the shadows, the voice reminiscent to his internal monologue. “So this is the Golden World of Eres, blessed by those greedy titans and shallow gods. The dwelling of all sorts of corruptible magical beasts... Fascinating.”
As the voice spoke, his eyes shot open as he glanced around the room. The origin of the voice was nowhere to be seen, most likely hidden within the shadows.
“Newly arisen, my dear Darkheart, you misunderstand. I am you. Your mind is my home, my newly formed origin. Through your eyes, the shadows spread, but reality would tell a different tale. I reckon you shouldn’t waste too much time looking for me, else you’ll frighten those mortals.”
‘The… Mortals?’ He thought, to which his voice, using foreign words, answered back within his mind, letting out a faint sigh as it answered. “The humans who are enchanted with fragments of magic.”
The faint humming that originated from within the shadows cast within his mind drew closer as if some ancient entity had awoken and levied its undivided attention directly upon him. “I see within your truesoul, secrets that you shall soon find unsealed.”
Continuing, the voice hidden within the shadows whispered out, “Within your truesoul I see it, a name, carved and burnt into your very spirit—forever altering your fate. Arise, Luther Draven, my dear Darkheart.”
A thunderous crash was felt across his very truesoul. As if some unimaginative force had overwhelmed him. An ocean of shadows soaked deeply into every crevice of both his mind and spirit—as if reforming him from the depths of darkness. All Luther could do was stand frozen as his paralyzed body did everything it could to simply withstand the waves that cleansed through him.
‘Ah…’ Luther proclaimed within his mind, a new emotion rearing its heinous face—hatred. Not hatred for the shadow that had taken hold of him, nor hatred for the men who stood opposite him. No, this hatred was far more expansive, as if his entire being was now one whole with the dark shadows that were etched deep within his mind.
The shadows crawling throughout the room, if only within his mind, began to grow wider and more expansive. A feeling of glee overtook everything as the voice bellowed, fading only after several seconds.
However, as all of this had occurred, only a few seconds had passed for everyone else within the room. No shadows crawled across the walls, nor were there any sinister voices scratching against their skulls. No, everything had remained as normal as the eldest sage slowly spoke up.
“Pe ug joow axassichaxanco din uctolchaxactick eep raxackuaxago, kloaxat staxampien?” This time he slowly began approaching Luther as he extended his arms outward as a sign of peace.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Seeing this transpire, Luther grimaced within his mind as he pondered. ‘What are they saying?’ He grew frustrated with himself for not being able to understand him. Now that he had become a part of the shadows that formed within his mind, he found his emotions were far more rampant and unchecked.
“Hmph,” the voice in his head chortled lightly, “Those foolish mortals seem to be questioning you… Something regarding your language. Hey, try nodding your head.”
With no other choice apparent to him, Luther did as the voice suggested and nodded—to the pleasure of everyone around the room. They all looked between each other with a calming expression as the eldest sage Aldor continued his approach. Within his hands, a floating scroll came into view, as if conjured from the ever-expansive realm of magic. Perhaps Aldor believed that they had finally bridged a communication gap, proving that Luther was an intelligent being, and was worth the effort.
“Taxako zis vaxagicaxar sclerr vupp staxampien, pi rot dit faxatho ug din dit nud krelupp. Blem dit, ug skaxarr cemo te uctolchaxact eep teckuo pi spoaxak axas wo pe.”
As Aldor spoke, he raised the scroll held within his hands and brought it closer to the man who had been formed from within the majestic orb to which he had poured a great deal of magic into. The elder sage Aldor very quickly arrived before Luther, gesturing the scroll towards him as an offering. His old, wrinkled hands showing a regal sign of power as numerous rings and rubies sat comfortably atop his fingers.
“That little spellcaster is offering for you to take that scroll,” the voice within his subconscious spoke out, “Do as he’s suggesting for now and take it… This should be a good opportunity for me to evaluate their methods of sorcery.”
As the voice ordered, the shadows that coated the room within Luther’s vision slowly faded, twisting and turning, folding in on themselves as they vanished within darkness cast upon the ground.
As Luther watched this happen, he lifted out his hands in response and took the scroll delicately into his grasp, unsure of what to do next. Without fully understanding, he could feel a pervasive flow of magic originating from within its complex pages. Seeing this, Aldor gestured for him to unravel it, patiently waiting as he did so.
As the thin papers of the scroll came unfurled, a wave of energy slowly built throughout the room, tangling together around his hands, rising across his arms like a serpent. Suddenly, he felt what seemed like a warm ray of heat wrap around him, twisting over his arms and heading down his chest.
The scroll promptly jumped away, twisting out of his grasp as a heavy spark ignited the thin sheets of paper, searing the magical words into his very truesoul as it burned before him.
He screamed out wildly—not of pain, but shock. Shock at finding the words he was lacking now there, within his mind. He recalled everything that had happened, and to his surprise, he now had the words to match the sounds. Within his mind remained the original words that had accompanied him from beyond the orb of light, but now, they existed alongside an entirely new language.
“How… Is this possible…” He muttered out through newfound words. His voice similar to that of the shadows, but lacking the sinister complexity it had proudly spoken with.
Hearing him speak for the first time in a language they could understand, Aldor and the rest simply gleamed and bowed, lowering themselves as a show of respect and honor. For all that they knew, they had just done the impossible. To summon forth a mighty champion, born from the essence of their gods, to slay their enemies and bring salvation to mankind.
Seeing this all unfold, the familiar voice within his mind erupted in laughter. Sick, twisted laughter that seemed to mock these sorcerers to their core. “Through nothing but a sheer coincidence, these fleas had just so happened to pull you through to their mortal world just as my origin...” These words slowly faded as the voice within his mind paused momentarily, as if it had just caught itself before saying something it shouldn't.
“Regardless, these fools think they truly succeeded? How exciting to watch, as you come to power within their world. I wonder how long it will take them to realize that they didn’t summon forth their champion, but their demise.”
‘Now what do you mean by demise? For what purpose do I exist, my soul aching with hate and thirst...’ As he thought, his mind began to wander beyond, recalling what the shadowed voice had hesitated with moments before. ‘More so than that, what were you claiming before you stopped?’ Luther questioned internally, receiving no response in return.
Breaking the awkwardness of silence, the sage Aldor spoke aloud as he stepped back ever so slightly. “I know you’ve had a long journey, champion, so allow us to provide you with a comfortable chamber for you to recover in.”
“Chamber?” Luther paused for a moment as he thought upon the meaning of the word through the new language he had just assimilated. “Ah yes, chamber. I would appreciate my own private… Chambers.”
Fortunately for him, Aldor and the others simply took his odd behavior as nothing but exhaustion rather than anything ominous. If they had suspected even for a second that their dearly beloved champion - to whom they spared no expense in conjuring into this world - had been tainted by shadow, they would never have allowed him to even leave this summoning room.
Unfortunately for them, however, they hadn't suspected a thing. Sage Aldor had even gone so far as to have made preparations prior in the hopes of succeeding, so there was already a bedchamber awaiting him. Perhaps this was the result of his hubris overshadowing any form of doubt he could have.
Along with his private chambers, Luther would be provided with two maidservants hand selected who would handle any of the delicate matters that needed to be handled, such as providing food and bath, as was only natural for their newly arisen savior.
“Yes, of course,” Aldor gleefully nodded as he beckoned one of his robed disciples over to his side. “Take our guest to his chambers, once you’re done report back to me. I must have a word with his majesty regarding everything that has transpired.”
As Aldor prepared to turn and leave, he found himself momentarily paused as he twisted halfway around to speak, “It's truly an honor to have met you, champion. I have so many things I wish to discuss… But that must wait for now, unfortunately. I hope you find your chamber acceptable.”
With that, he left. Following behind him were countless robed sorcerers, leaving only a handful of men left to remain with their supposed champion.
“Please follow my lead, great champion. I’ll escort you to your new chambers so that you may rest and recuperate your strength.” The robed man who spoke was shorter than most of the others, as his voice held both an air of youth and caution.
Following the robed sorcerer, Luther was guided through several elaborate corridors, each of which had curious runes carved deep into the stone that sat opposite each other, accompanied by numerous doorways that led to any number of rooms and chambers.
It didn’t take long for them to stop before a certain room, a large etching of runes sat opposite on the wall as if watching over the chamber. “These bedchambers have been prepared and warded for you, my champion. You should find it safe to recuperate your strength and rest without worry of danger.”
As the robed man spoke, he slowly approached the heavy wooden door and pushed inward on the handle. As the door opened, a large, elaborate room opened up. With a mere glance, one could see a collection of useful artifacts and arcane tomes, to which held powerful magical secrets.
“Master Aldor had this place prepared personally, bringing together a vast collection of knowledge that he believed you would need for your recovery. He wasn’t sure what level of power you would possess from the start, so he had us bring together a varied stash.”
Luther gleamed inside, ‘They’re making things rather easy for me…’
Before he could finish his thought, the shadowed voice intervened, “It won’t be as simple as you think, Darkheart. You’re their prized trophy, a weapon they plan on shackling, not befriending. Don’t be mistaken, this chamber may hold any number of tracking and spying spells enchanted within its four walls.”
‘Of course,’ Luther replied internally, showing a more rustic and strained expression as he thought, ‘Are there any methods of removing these spells… or at least finding them out, at least?’
In response, the darkened voice replied, “There are many curses and alterations to which possess the power to obliterate any form of tracking magic... But the flow of this world's mana differs from the grand Essence I'm accustomed to. Unfortunately, you must lower yourself to such a pitiful level for now, as there seems to be no other alternative.”
Luther understood the meaning of those words. Behave. 'In the meantime, I suppose I should accumulate as much knowledge of this place—this world—as I can.'
“Be wary of everyone, regardless of how pathetic and useless their mortal forms seem to be. For they have ulterior motives for summoning you to this world, regardless of their level of success or not. They need not truly possess the power to conjure you to pose a threat.”
As his inner voice reminded, the hooded mage that guided him here turned towards him and spoke, “I must go return to my chambers... make preparations for the events to come. I imagine his majesty will desire a visit in the next few days, so please make yourself at home and please do recuperate.”
“Yes, of course, I shall have a long rest tonight—“
“His majesty and master Aldor will be interested to hear about the world you originated from. The origin of our dear champion shall become something of legend.” The mage spoke, interrupting his calm voice and creating an awkward pause in the air.
“Ah yes... My... World.”
Internally, Luther found himself facing his first challenge. 'My world? What, a world of darkness? The eternal void? What would these sorcerers think to do if they uncovered the truth of my origin. They expect me to speak upon my bravery. Upon my history and family... I need to be worthy of the title of champion!'
This concern posed a great threat to Luther’s mind, as all he could remember was his painful baptism by light and darkness. Beyond that, there was nothing.
Turning his face toward the younger mage, he replied in kind, “I look forward to it. But for now… I must rest.”
“Yes, of course,” the mage bowed as Luther walked through the room’s threshold, entering inside. As he did so the mage pulled shut the large door, leaving their beloved champion to his thoughts.
Luther, looking around the room, couldn’t calm down. All he could think about was what he’d tell these conjurers of his to earn their trust and remove any doubt they may be fostering.
As he pondered, his eyes slowly wandered across the room, falling toward a large bookshelf that sat indented into the wall. Approaching it, he saw a myriad of novella ranging in topics from forgotten wars to fascinating magics. Each journal thick with knowledge and history.
‘What sort of world was this?’ He wondered, ‘Perhaps through this, I can learn of the sort of happenings they expect me to speak of.’
“Yes, a grand scheme.” His inner demon spoke, finally weighing down on the subject. “You should be cautious, for there are numerous eyes upon you. They watch through corners and cracks in the room, hidden out of sight. It seems they, as I suspected, don’t completely trust their dear champion.”
Luther expected this and thus didn’t show his worry on his face. He grabbed a novel out from the shelf and carried it alone to a table that remained nearby. As he sat, he made sure to take care as the pages slowly folded open, revealing the words within.
It was fortunate that there existed magic to transfer and gift knowledge and language onto others. Otherwise, these words would’ve been just as scrambled as their spoken words had been. Even more so, as spoken words at least possessed some form of rhythm that could be used to uncover meaning.
The novel he had selected at random was one foretelling long-passed history. It told of an ancient war that was waged between the forces of good against the armies of evil. It showed its bias easily and apparently.
‘This foolish King, Quentin Whitehall… Of course his armies were destroyed, he led them into a bloodbath based upon maddened dreams he had mistaken for saintly visions.’
Luther read through one story after another, learning of the sort of rulers this world had throughout the years. The side of light, as the story depicts, was always filled with arrogant and foolish lords, men who believed in honor above all else. Men who were willing to die for their historically absent Gods.
“Mortals praising myths. Men are like this everywhere you look.” The voice claimed, clearly showing disgust in its words. “Every world has its fools, while also possessing their fair share of plotters and deceivers. Those are the minions we shall gather and command. Those who would willingly abandon the world for their deepest, darkest desires.”