There was only darkness in the undisturbed tomb. Until the being came.
An aura of violet light shined unto the runes engraved into the walls; hieroglyphics, preserved in color. An eerie clicking noise emanated from within the ground; the cloaked and hooded figure, undaunted, continued walking, examining. Fixed on the figure's right forearm was a blade, albeit an abnormal blade; to put it simply, it glowed. It was the blade giving off the purple aura. Indeed, the blade itself was a beam of smoking purple light, focused into the shape of a long blade. A loud moan issued from the walls the figure examined. The figure, paying no attention, proceeded to think out loud (quite literally; having no mouth, the figure communicated by carefully controlled thoughts):
"The Dark Lord rose, as was foretold." The drawings on the wall, horribly abstract (it was Egyptian, after all), depicted a nose-less face, eerie in the dancing lights, with slits of red light for eyes; a bald head contained it all. The bald figure was robed; in its extended hand held a wand, raised in combat. Several dead bodies littered the ground. The figure moved along, now dawning light on a new scene: A very small human-looking thing, obviously an infant, sat on the floor while the bald figure pointed its wand at the child. There was a blast of green light. Then all that laid upon the floor was a mess of black robes and a crying baby. All the while, the figure read off the top row of hieroglyphics.
"The Chosen One, infant and last scion of the Potters, will bring his first downfall." Another scene; this time a red-haired woman next to a black-haired man standing together, smiling innocently.
"But for the Chosen One to emerge, the Evans girl must marry the Potter boy. Nothing can be in their way, lest creation as we know it burn."
The figure took off its hood, revealing wrinkled, gray skin. Glowing, white-less blue eyes, the only facial feature (there were no ears, no mouth, no nose, no hair), rested near the high cheekbones. The alien face was rounded off with a somewhat rounded chin (though the lower part of the face was thinner than the top).
"The question is, does this "Chosen One" come to save?" the figure's eyes narrowed, "…or to destroy?"
A swirl of golden Dust. A wave of Darkness; the innocent swirl soon became a maelstrom of black particles.
This all took place very fast inside the figure's mind. Unpleasantly surprised, he turned around and growled mentally. The ground positively rumbled. The figure looked around in a predatory gaze, anticipating. Then, the ground cracked; from the hole protruded a hand, its skin gray from decomposing; muscles were showing in places. With lightning speed, an Inferius burst from the ground, leaving a huge hole behind; but the hole soon began to close…
Several more Inferi burst from the ground in manners similar to the first one. The figure raised his blade arm, clenching his fists, backing into a defensive position…
There was an uneasy moment of stillness, however brief. Then the first Inferius lunged towards the figure with incomprehensible speed.
As it turned out, though, the Inferius wasn't fast enough for the figure. In an instant, the blazing purple blade was in the neck of the abomination. Then the whole swarm advanced.
The figure backed into a corner, his eyes now slits in annoyance. The Inferi was no more than a minor inconvenience, but how did they escape his notice when he first entered the tomb? To think that his senses were dulling would be impossible, not to mention a dire insult. The only explanation was some type of ritual or runes; spells would have worn off over the years. Unless…
The figure's face sagged, frowning (even though he didn't have a mouth). Unless someone had been here recently… But who? As far as he was concerned, he was the only living sentient being who knew about the tomb and its dark secrets. To think that someone else knew… He mentally shuddered. But the Inferi weren't about kill themselves off.
The figure brought his blade down on one, two, three monsters, then jumped over the rest, landing on the opposite side of the room. The Inferi were confused for but a moment; they soon swarmed towards their target's new location. The figure silently cursed, then lifted his left hand (which had two long fingers and two long, opposing thumbs); he gave a burst in his Dust field, and a blast of golden light protruded from his left palm. What happened next would deeply upset the figure.
As if the ground was sentient, a wall of sand rose from the ground to absorb the force of the attack; unable to bear the whole might, it was blown to pieces and scattered harmlessly over the bodies of the Inferi.
The figure silently cursed again. Unable to see another alternative, he sank his blade into the neck of yet another Inferius. But he didn't stop there. He twisted his arm, and the head came off; he turned around and decapitated yet another couple Inferi. He jumped and landed on the shoulder of one of the monstrosities, decapitated the monster, and disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
He disappeared.
Reappearing with a shower of luminous golden Dust on ceiling (he somehow defied gravity), he turned off his blade; the only source of light within the chamber was gone. But the Inferi did not need light to hunt; and neither did the being. He snapped his fingers on his right hand twice, and four needles, now the only source of light, made of golden Dust appeared in his palm. He flicked his wrist, and the needles promptly flew to bury itself in the neck of four separate Inferi. But it didn't stop there. The needles exploded in a blast of blinding blue light (the sudden change in light level was enough to upset any human), tossing bodies like ragdolls against the unforgiving walls. But the Inferi were relentless. They began to rouse; the figure, seeing this, materialized yet another needle and sent it straight into the ground. A transparent sphere, originating from the needle, made of shimmering blue light, incarcerated the corpses within. The figure leaped from the ceiling onto the ground and landed with a mental grunt.
Then came a soft chuckle.
"Nox'riel… I knew you'd find your way here… Eventually."
"Who's there? Show yourself!" the figure, Nox'riel, mentally snarled. Again, that soft chuckle.
"But why would I do that? It's so comfortable here, in the Darknessssssssssssssss…" the voice trailed off.
Nox'riel frowned again, his eyes narrowing.
"A game of Shadows is one that two can play…"
With that, Nox'riel gradually disintegrated into sand particles, blown off by some nonexistent wind.