Deep within a hidden keep, once known for the nightmares that it caused for its occupants, is a chamber made for a one purpose, to hold a man beyond the end of ages. Thick fog hangs off the keep walls, spreading across the surrounding swells that inhibits travel towards the stone sentinel that looms over those that dare approach.
Within is a bone chilling cold pervading every nook and cranny, dim lighting causing one to stumble along rough-hewn floors. Through narrow corridors are barred rooms, their entrance covered by mossy stone, only allowing one passage onwards. Locked gates along the way, each glowing with runic wards that lock and hold that within.
Beyond lay a labyrinth, filled with those that hunger for eternity. Corridors move and warp with archways that promise exit only to trap the hopeful, tricks that make the wary turn around and flee whilst they can.
The final passage is filled with a thick layer of dust, stale air with traces from the soot covered walls. Empty sconces hold the few remains of torches that once lit the way towards the door at the end of the passage. A heavy iron-banded door covered with a variety of locks, both mechanical and magical, that was made to last beyond the entity held inside.
Elaborate designs cover the face of the door, a final attempt to warn off the fool-hardy that reached this far. An image of two human figures facing against one another on a torn battlefield, one cloaked in shadow whilst the other charges in with light against their back. The shadow loomed over the figure that held forth an ebony wand, a dark ruby glinting on the wand hand almost covered by the cloak that was threaded with silver. The other figure a pale man that moved with purpose, light shining from the wand that banished the encroaching shadow.
This would have been enough of a warning, if only to remind them of a story that was thought only as myth that was passed from grandparent to grandchild. Unfortunately, details faded through both time and memory, until it was only a poor comparison of the original used to threaten young that wouldn't sleep.
On the other side of the door lay a small chamber. Seated within was a bent over man, quill scratching across parchment in the glow of a single candle. Hair drifted slightly to the invisible breeze, coming somewhere with no windows or vents, shadowing a pale face. Vibrant green eyes glinted in the candlelight as the head angled towards the only exit, contrasting against the sun-starved skin. A smirk made itself known as the man lay down his quill for the first time. The chair screeched, and joints popped with the man pushing himself out of the chair and steadying themselves on their feet. Moving with purpose around the table and stopping before the exit.
Knock… knock… knock… Each one echoing on either side of the door. With a groan of the hinges, the door slowly shifted with a movement of new air entering the room, the candle flickering before plunging the room in silent darkness. A small glow came from the vibrant eyes as the first footstep in centuries stirred the dust, echoing with the first footstep of freedom for the One that conquered Death.