I must thank two people for making this story a considerably more possible and definitely less awful. Jedilordrevan for letting me throw ideas back and forth with him until they stuck, and TheBreakfastGenie for making this look a lot better than a bunch of ideas thrown back and forth until they stuck.
King Ostarion unceremoniously kicked over the statue of the recently deceased lord.
"Very well. I accept your surrender."
He sighed. Put down an insurrection here, conquer an opposing kingdom there, it had all become so very simple. True, it was a necessity of the curse that kept him immortal, but at least he used to enjoy slaying his foes. Now, ever since the War of the Ancients, most warriors were no challenge for him, let alone a match. Worse, his expansion was beginning to push into lands under the influence of his former allies and enemies. As much as he didn't want to admit it, they were more than capable of holding his expansion back. And should that happen… the king of all wraiths would no longer be immortal.
He shook his head. This was not the time to think about this. Now was the time for celebration for another successful campaign. His soldiers were already bringing the loot out of the castle. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an open spell book. Hardly a mage himself, he normally paid them no mind. No, what caught his eye were two words.
Planeswalker Spell.
He smiled. Perhaps he would be immortal yet.
"Can you do it?"
Azorszos, court mage and skeletal prisoner of the Empire of Wraith, shuffled nervously, skimming over the book.
"I… I, well, Your Highness, thi-this spell is something that could take weeks to prepare! An-and we don't even know if it will work! Even if it does, we don't know where we would end up!"
"I didn't ask that. I asked, can you do it?"
"Couldn't you find someone more experienced in planeswalking than I?"
"Does it look like I can simply write a letter to the Spirit Breaker and ask him nicely? Can you do it?"
"But-"
Ostarion slammed his sword into the ground, earning a startled jump out of the mage. "Can you do it?"
"I, well, I… yes, given enough time, Your Highness."
"Could we make it back?"
"Pr-probably."
"Good. You have a week."
"Thank you, Your- wait, what? A week? That's not nearly enough time!"
But the Wraith King had already turned to leave the mage in his cell. Azorszos looked down once more at the book, and sighed. His work had turned the young prince into the Skeleton King, the Skeleton King into the Wraith King, and now once more he would take part in tragedy. This would not end well.
The matter settled with the mage, it began to dawn on Ostarion the scale of what he was about to undertake. He was going to go try to conquer a land outside his plane. He would have no real army to command, no kingdom to supply him, no reputation as a feared conqueror. He had no idea where he might end up, let alone who or what he might face. Well, he had some potential ideas, having fought against planeswalkers and otherworldly beings in the War of the Ancients.
Had the influence of the Ancients spread across the planes? Clearly it had some effect, for the war had warranted the attention of beings outside reality itself such as Darkterror the Faceless Void. He would hate to once again be a puppet of theirs, to be used, discarded, and used again by both the Radiant and Dire, like toy soldiers in the hands of young boys. The war had never really ended, two fragments still standing across a river from each other. The final two fragments stood as a reminder of a war that had spanned an entire world, and touched many more.
Sitting on his throne, Ostarion allowed himself to muse on the war's final days. We were all tired of fighting for their ends. As much as some of us loved the call of battle, not even Mogul Khan would be used anymore. One by one, we stopped fighting, scattering back to our old callings in life. I think some of the heroes held a party in honor of the war's end. I don't remember going.
Even if there were no Ancients, what would he see? He knew he would have to stand against established kingdoms, with their own champions. He might even see a few of his former allies and enemies; after all, more than few of them had crossed dimensions to fight, and he had no doubt they had returned after the war's end.
He chuckled. I have struck down beings older than time, stood against warriors of countless battles, and slain creatures larger than mountains. Perhaps it is time I truly tested myself again.
"Your Highness, are you sure you want to go through with this? After all, you've left your kingdom in the hands of your advisors, and you don't even have an heir yet. Not to mention we could die from the start if this goes wrong, or end up-"
"We've come too far to turn back now. My men are already prepared. Are you?"
Azorszos nodded.
"Then begin."
With a sigh, the mage began chanting the incantations before him. The cell began to glow, and soon its inhabitants were glowing as well. The walls faded from sight, and the glow soon followed, leaving the group in a void, with small twinkles of light scattered about. Ostarion marched towards one of the closer lights, the rest following behind.
One of the soldiers asked, "Where are we going?"
The Wraith King grinned. "Forward."
And so our tale begins. I cannot promise fast updates or epic-length chapters, but I will do my best to not abandon this story. Feedback is more than welcome.