"Dark magic doesn't necessarily mean evil, it also means standing up for yourself."

-Unknown

            Sitting on his black obsidian throne, he had waited here for a long time. So long, he’d forgotten his own name. He sat in pure darkness, but the dark did not bother him. He was born in darkness. The dark was a comforting friend, and it sustained him throughout the ages. He had never seen the light, not until he was a man grown. The light was warm while the dark was cold, but light needed the dark. For without the dark there can be no light.

             But many thought they could banish the dark. They did not understand. Without light, there can be no darkness. Once upon a time, he had friends and comrades. He even had a lover or three. They fought the forces of chaos together. They had victories and shared a few defeats. But they were strong together. Until his comrades began to fear his dark power.

            In the end, he was betrayed. Brought low by those he loved. They feared his dark magic. They did not trust him, the one who fought by their side. Who stood with them threw hellish battles against chaos. Their past did not matter. They said his power fed chaos. Fools, they did not understand. Darkness and chaos were separate entities, but they would not listen.

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            His so-called friends began to persecute him and those who shared his power. They claim this was for the protection of the world. It was near the end he understood their real reason. It was for power, not to protect the world. He was strong, and he grew stronger with each day and night. By the time he understood their true goals, it was too late. He was betrayed by his own lover. He was broken by those he fought and drank with. He would have sacrificed his own life for theirs in a heartbeat.

            They broke him and cast him out. His dark magic was now outlawed throughout the world. His people hunted, persecuted, and slain by those in power or those who did not understand. His former comrades went on to establish kingdoms and empires. They forgot him, but he did not forget.

            Yet, his body was broken and would never heal. He was a shadow of his former self. The power in him was great, but his body could no longer wield it like before. The dark power inside him needed a new vessel, a new successor. So, he waited here in the darkness. Sitting on his obsidian throne for the chosen successor.

            He had waited in the darkness of his home for centuries, millennia, and eons. He would have waited for eternity if need be. But the dark spoke to him, they told him his long wait would soon be over. The successor was coming.

            “Come, my dark warrior. Come and claim your destiny.”