429 LE, Arranis Grove
The Grove was alive, it lived, it breathed, and - to the dismay of many - it thought. It knew who belonged inside its borders, and who didn't.
And right now, it was telling its current guardian, Evoril, that three strangers were trespassing upon its territory.
Evoril had no idea why the three strangers were violating the sanctuary of the grove, but he had no intention of allowing them to reach the Soul Storm that lay at its heart. It was that Storm that gave the Grove its sentience, and it was that Storm that every copper-bit adventurer went after.
He watched them from deep within the trees, hidden by the Grove's own will until he revealed himself. The leader of the three adventurers was tall and well built, with bright green hair and sky blue eyes. The man was clearly a warrior, complete with bright silver armor and a longsword sheathed at his side, a shield stashed over his back. To his right was a woman of middling height, her sky blue hair a distinct contrast to her sharp amber eyes. She carried a staff covered in runes with her, announcing her profession to be some form of mage-craft. To the leader's left was a slender young man with crimson hair and eyes, twin sabres tucked through his belt, labeling him as a swordsman, though Evoril was unsure of what style he might favor.
Evoril had hoped that the three would turn back at the unwelcoming nature of the Grove, but time after time the land itself struck, and time after time the three continued on.
It was time for the direct approach.
Incanting softly, Evoril paced them, waiting to strike. Then... there, they were all looking away! "Lord of endless night, rain down thy wrath - Stars of Blood."
Something alerted them, the woman's staff raising into the air as she rattled off an incantation. "Guardian of the earth, protect us from harm - Silver Shield!"
A shimmering dome formed above the three, just moments after the rain of stars began. Evoril cursed - the majority shattered harmlessly against that shield. Only the first few had hit, leaving bloody, but survival, wounds across their bodies.
It was three against one, and the woman had just proved herself a defensive master.
"Great ruler of the earth, rise up from the depths - Crystal Wyrm!" Evoril cried, as he shifted backwards and cloaked himself inside the grove once more. He would circle to strike the woman's back while they were distracted by his summon.
The distraction seemed to work. The two fighters abandoned their search for him to fight the Wyrm that had erupted from beneath their feet. As for the woman, she had hung back, staff poised to cast, attention fixed on her companions.
It would have to be an overwhelming and direct strike, Evoril mused. She had to have no chance to block.
With that in mind, Evoril clenched his left hand in a fist and made a throwing motion, chanting softly, "O' elements of the world, sever mine enemy's flesh - Weapons of Wind."
Three scythes of pale blue spun through the air and struck the woman in the back. Blood splattered, decorating the ground, as she cried out in pain and fell, unconcious.
"Sarril, deal with mage, I've got this beast!" the warrior called out as he backed away from the Wyrm and adjusted his grip on his blade.
Sarril nodded and danced aside, leaving the Wyrm open to attack from his friend. His gaze swept across the trees, searching for Evoril, even as he cast a healing item towards the woman. It did little more than seal up her wounds, being too weak to wake her from her faint, but she was no longer in danger of death.
"Spirits of ice, strike down my foe - Ice Spear!" Evoril chanted, left hand outstretched towards the swordsman.
The crimson-haired youth dodged, allowing the spear to sail past him to shatter on a tree in a hail of ice.
"Heh, that all you got?" Sarril taunted. "This'll be a breeze, then."
"Save your breath for fighting, hero," Evoril said. "This grove is barred to all but the protector. You will leave or you will perish."
Sarril snorted and paced closer, swords at the ready. "Sorry, no can do. We need what's at the heart of this grove, and have no intention of backing off. Slashing Bolt!"
A bright arc of lightning leapt from Sarril's swords and lanced through the air towards Evoril, who brought his cloak up to hide his face. Though badly aimed, little tongues of power still reached towards him as the arc swept by. It played across Evoril's cloak then dissipated into the air.
The moment it did so, Evoril dropped his cloak and finished the incantation he'd begun while defending, "Rain of Lava!"
But the hail of fire fell upon nothing, as Sarril had darted into the trees. The grass began to smoulder and burn where the fire touched it, wisps of smoke curling into the air. There was no time to banish the fire.
Evoril prepped another spell and began moving, alert to the grove around him.
A flicker of red out of the corner of his eye, an electric ripple of danger! down his spine from the grove, his only warnings. Blindly obeying, Evoril leapt aside as a crescent of power sheared by. Close enough that the energy nearly kissed him. Close enough that a trailing edge of his cloak was sheared off.
"Firebolt!" Evoril cast in the same heartbeat, aiming by instinct. A loud curse rewarded his efforts, and he allowed himself a small smile before taking off once more. A mage's strength lay in never closing with the enemy.
Hopefully it would be enough.
Again and again he and Sarril traded blows, sometimes hitting, sometimes missing. Evoril's clothing was torn in several places. His breathing ragged. His blood soaking into his clothing, though his wounds were healed by potions.
With luck, Sarril was in no better shape.
In the distance, the death-cry of his summoned wyrm echoed through the grove. Could things get worse?
Sarril needed to be downed, now.
Suddenly, Sarril charged out of the trees, swords at the ready. Making haste to scramble aside, Evoril hurried through the incantation for Ice Spear. In horror, he watched as Sarril's blades swept out and down, the spear shattering into tiny shards that Sarril charged straight through.
Evoril barely managed to evade the first blade and ducked under the second swipe. Panic lent him speed as he evaded, and panic lent him strength to skip his next incantation. Instead, he thrust out his hand, palm towards Sarril, and cried out, "Tidal Wave!"
The swordsman was too close to dodge, and was swept backwards by the force of the summoned water. Evoril took a moment to breath - it was now or never. He was nearly at his limit, as potions could only help so much before they ceased to work. It was time to end this.
"Lord of endless night, let the fools despair - Book of the Void!"
The world around them turned black as pitch. The trees vanished. Distinctive features faded into the abyss he had summoned. There was only him and Sarril and a large floating tome left.
The tome opened and flashed a brilliant violet, the fluttering of the pages loud in the unnatural silence. As the pages stilled, the book flashed once more, and a figure appeared - tall, lithe, and jet black but for the blood red hair and eyes.
Sarril's breath caught in his throat, as he stared down his shadow-self.
Shadow Sarril smirked and raised his twin swords to the sky in a mocking salute. "Black Eclipse Blade!"
Sarril had no chance to dodge. His double bolted across the short distance between them, blades already rippling with ebony flames. Twin wounds carved themselves across his chest, knocking him off his feet and leaving him no breath to scream as the flames burrowed into his body.
Evoril staggered as the void dissipated. He was tired. Drained. But he couldn't stop yet, and so he downed another potion and gathered his strength about himself once more. Sarril was out for the count, though Evoril doubted the wounds were fatal.
"Come!" He shouted into the forest, focused on the third intruder. "You are alone and without a healer! If you value your life, and the life of your companions, you will leave and not return!"
"And you have expended yourself to near collapse," the green-haired warrior replied, as he limped into view. "Allow us to reach our goal, and we will leave you in peace."
"You are a blind fool." Evoril settled into a simple stance and watched the other warily. "I am unaware what inane stories you have heard, but the Soul Storm you so desperately desire will grant you nothing but death!"
"Then we have no choice." With that, the warrior nodded to someone behind Evoril.
He spun, left hand lifting as the first words of an incantation touched his lips. There was enough time for him to register that the mage was standing there, and to question why the grove had not alerted him, before he felt the wash of a Sleep spell.
Evoril knew no more.
429 LE, Arranis Grove
Evoril woke suddenly, but kept himself still and his breathing even as he catalogued the world around him. Voices spoke softly off to his left, he felt neither injury nor bindings, and a fire crackled close enough that he could feel the warmth on his skin, all things he had not expected. If anything, he had expected to either wake up alone and wounded or to not wake up at all, given the fight he'd put up and the damage he'd dealt to the adventurers.
But something felt... off. He couldn't hear the grove, nor its innate magic, nor even the overwhelming, muted roar of the Soul Storm. In fact, the only magic he felt was the steady pulse of three humans nearby, one distinctly stronger than the others, and his own heavy, distinctive thrum.
It was that thrum that finally jerked him out of his state of calm. Something was fundamentally wrong with it, there was an undercurrent to it that had never been there before.
Evoril sat up abruptly, one hand pressed to his chest, and gazed across the flat, burnt landscape that surrounded them. Dread filled him even as the startled cries of the other three washed over him. The fools had done it, destabilized the Soul Storm in their quest for... something... and the land had paid the price.
"It is a miracle you still live," Evoril spoke into the silence that had fallen, his voice flat. "Did your success... please you? Are you even aware of what chaos you have wrought?"
"You have no right to speak to us like that!" The woman huffed in annoyance. "Marith's twin has been cursed, and we heard--"
"You heard wrong!" Evoril roared, as he pushed himself to his feet and spun to glare at the three youths. "The Soul Storm is no quick answer to a curse! It does not trade for knowledge, nor does it care for your motives!"
They cringed back from him, unable to meet his furious gaze for longer than a moment.
"If you had such a desire to find pure power, you should have found an Elemental Upwelling!" A shiver went through his body, the undercurrent rising to the surface, responding to his rage. Evoril crushed it back with ruthless efficiency - he would not lose control of the Soul Storm's power!
For, once destabilized by the intrusion of the three, it had latched onto the core of the strongest person around... him. He dreaded the consequences.
Marith shook his head, still unable to meet Evoril's gaze. "We tried that. We've all... that is to say, I've bonded with a Fire Upwelling, Sarril bonded Lightning, and Castia bonded Wind. It's done us as much good as trying to bail out the ocean."
Evoril sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fools. Fools and idiots, the lot of them. Single elements weren't enough, so they immediately went to the single strongest convergence of power known to the world, the Soul Storm.
"Did you even research the Storm before blithely wandering into its grasp?" Evoril glanced at them and sighed. Their blank looks told him everything he needed to know. "Of course not."
"We tried!" The woman, Castia, protested. "None of the libraries we looked at had much on it, beyond that it was powerful and that those who were granted its power could do anything."
Evoril's lips compressed in a thin line, and he swept his annoyed gaze over the three children. They were so... so conceited. "Power is not always the answer." He forced out, before turned and stalking away, across the desolation that had once been a truly magical grove.
"W-wait!" Sarril exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet and ran the few paces to Evoril, grabbing the mage's arm in a tight grip. "Where are you going?"
"Back to my Lord," Evoril said. "I failed my duty, and have no wish to listen anymore to your foolish words."
With that, he wrenched his arm free, deliberately stepped into the swordsman's shadow, gave him a mocking smile, and disappeared.
431 LE, Spire of Night
"I had hoped to never see the three of you again," Evoril said. He didn't look up from the book he was reading, relying instead on his mage-sense to tell him where the three adventurers were.
It was barely two years since that cursed day in the Grove, and Evoril had done everything within his power to not allow the Soul Storm to affect him, though it was a losing battle. His bright blue hair was darker, more like the night sky than tropical waters, and his apple green eyes had darkened to the color of malachite. He'd lost his tan somewhere along the way, and his teeth and nails had sharpened.
But worse, much worse than the simple physical changes was the knowledge that he was now the Lord of Night. His Lord, the being that had taken him in, trained him, brought him out of his shell to some extent, was gone, destroyed by the same strange malady that had struck at all Lords that walked the world. The Soul Storm, seeing an opportunity, had claimed those freed powers for itself, instead of allowing them to pass on to... whatever it was that was killing the Lords.
"Again?" Marith's voice was puzzled. "But we haven't--"
"Do you still blithely wander into the grasp of things beyond your knowledge?" Evoril asked. Was it too much to hope that they would just leave?
Castia gasped. "You! You were the Grove's guardian!"
"Yes." Apparently it was.
Marith approached him, sitting down across from him and leaning forward. His magic hummed with intensity, honed by time and experience into a weapon almost as deadly as Evoril's own will.
Given time, Evoril mused, the three would be truly deadly to reckon with. It wasn't often he found others with such a focus on gaining strength and skill.
"We've come to speak to the Lord of Night," Marith said. "Do you know where he is?"
"And why do you desire to speak with the Lord?"
"Because we've heard that he still lives, where the other Lords have perished. We want to know if he knows what is happening."
Evoril stared blindly at the book in his hands, one thumb absently caressing the edge of the page as he lost himself in thought. Did he know what was happening? Not truly. He knew something was after the power of the various Lords - indeed, he felt the probing and clawing at his own being, trying to weaken him enough to destroy him as it had destroyed the previous Lord - but he did not know why. Too, he was unsure of how much he should, or could, confide in these three brash adventurers.
Instead, he pulled up a vague memory of their last meeting, hoping to stall for more time. "And what does this have to do with the curse on your brother?"
"He sent us out to search," Marith admitted. "He can barely move, and most days he's insensible, but he has his days of lucidity and tells us... things that he shouldn't know. He's sent us all over, and everything he's said has turned out almost as he's said it."
Shocked, Evoril looked up at the warrior. That didn't sound like any curse he'd ever heard of. That sounded like...
He could tell the three were surprised when he slammed his book closed and rose, retreating into the shelves behind him. It was around here somewhere... ah! There it was. Evoril pulled the book down swiftly and flipped through the pages, searching for a half-remembered description.
"Here." Evoril set the book down before Marith, eyes intense. "That is no curse I've ever heard of. This matches what you describe better."
"Forcefully awoken prophet?" Marith sputtered as he skimmed the page. "But... but how?"
Evoril shrugged. It was not his place to speculate as to what had awoken the power so violently and powerfully. "I neither know nor care. There is your answer. Now, begone, I have no time for you."
"To our old question, perhaps," Sarril finally spoke up, his gaze trailing over the changes in Evoril's body. "But as for our new one... you're him, aren't you? The Lord of Night."
"What?" Castia exclaimed, her eyes wide as she stared first at Sarril, then at Evoril and back again.
Marith, though... his expression was odd. A mix of acceptance and resignation, as if he had expected this very thing. And if his brother was a prophet, Evoril wasn't willing to bet on the fact that Marith hadn't suspected.
Instead, Evoril inclined his head slightly. "I have become the Lord, yes."
"So he has passed," Marith mused. "You weren't a Lord two years ago."
"No."
Marith drew himself up, a determined expression on his face as he stared unblinkingly into Evoril's eyes. "I formally request your aid against that which threatens both your life and the lives of all living beings on our world."
At the words, Evoril felt a tug at his core, as the magic of the Lord recognized and accepted the formal plea for what it was - an honest, last ditch effort to keep the world from destruction. Few would dare call upon the Lord of Night for anything less.
He had no choice but to accept, though perhaps this was for the best. He was getting nowhere with his research, and the attempts at his life were growing more persistant with every week that passed.
"Very well. You may call me Evoril."