Chapter 1
"The dragon is slain, the hero emerges. Yet, still is this world doomed. No man can save it, not even the first Archon himself."
-- Last known words of The Druid, savior of Albion.
Ancient, gnarled fingers swirled majestically above an even older skeleton, a collection of old bones thrown together on the silken sheets below. Trails of electricity lazily danced behind the circling fingers, fingers with black tips, and streaks of blue running upwards upon twisted, un-imaginably thin arms. The arms led to a twisted torso, the once proud frame deformed and sunken, straining to hold the heavy head above it upright… The face upon the head, covered in ancient, cruel scars, showed a wisdom and strength of mind not seen for longer than written history… Yet, the eyes, dimmed by time, still remained focused on the one thing above its hands, a cold, delicately ornate object. Something that only the oldest nightmares began to imagine, something that once housed something so terrible, not even death could silence its fury.
The frame shuddered, then convulsed, as a dim blue light forced its way from the clawed fingers, glowing ever brighter, and ascending into the mask above. Slowly, ever so slowly, the faintest whisper of a new energy flowed from the relic, this willpower even dimmer than that of the ancient wizard still convulsing below, yet still it crept forwards, slithering in-between the other magic, pausing above the rotten corpse, sliding into it…
Suddenly, the wizard collapsed, and the bluish haze gathering around his broken form flickered, dieing… Yet, the other energy pursued its growth, slowly spreading from one end of the skeleton to the other, becoming brighter, stronger, more alive. Then, with the slightest hissing, muscles first started to grow on the ancient bones, creeping, crawling from one to another, crawling its way along the disintegrating corpse… The old wizard raised his weary head, his old eyes slowly focusing on the miracle before him as a droplet of sweat rolled down the crooked nose, hitting the wooden floor with a splash…
Even still, the miracle continued. First a heart, then two lungs brought themselves into the corpse's chest cavity, growing with not so much as a hiss, but rather a crackling… Then, layers of skin – each paler than the last, stretched themselves over the almost-human man, now growing silently amongst the regenerating organs. But then, at the peak of its power, the spell so many years in the weaving, dissipated with a loud hiss, Leaving the room wrought with tension, the man deathly silent…
The man was breathing.
Authors Notes:
I know, this is still a little short, however I am still very much introducing the storyline, and don't want to combine too many chapters as I feel it breaks the atmosphere. Feel free to comment.
