CHAPTER 5

Forged by Hellfire and Holly water, the Amulet of the Dying Sun is a legendary artifact. It was a gift of the Elder Spirits to a mortal Mage for some unspeakable deed, its echo long lost in the tides of time. It was of the same material as the Soul Stones, and crafted with strange runes and fragments of Trag'Oul's teeth. Its bearer was said to acquire long life and immunity to disease and aging. But in the runes a curse was hidden, as in all divine gifts. So that no mortal might accent to Godhood.

From the "Book of the Dead Gods".

Aurion sat at a secluded place in the tavern with Cain next to him. Macha soon joined them, while Aurion seemed to be lost in his memories. Shadows traveled on his pale face, echoes of things long dead. He began his story, the tale of a man who wished to become God.

~*~

When time was young and the arcane powers of the world was raw and untamed, two brothers, twins, walked away from the clans of the Eastern Sorcerers and entered the Southern Marches. In this damp and remote region they established a vast underground community exploring the Dark Arts. Soon others joined them and the Order of the Necromancers was form. It was never a former Order, like the Paladins or the other Mage clans, but they all were treated as such by outsiders. Their days and mainly their nights were spent in tombs and graveyards, exploring the mysteries of Life, Death and the unstable realm between.

Among them, the two brothers became legendary figures of almost divine statue. There were no ranks or elections or councils; they all knew the twins were their leaders. They dwelled in the shadows under Rathma's temple and in the dungeons under Trag'Oul's avatar. They rarely came out in the open and no one dared disturb the rituals of Riathon and Neferaton.

Riathon was the older of the two, just for a matter of minutes, but sometimes minutes can make a huge difference. He was tall and slender, with pale skin and long silver hair. His eyes were deep, with memories of ancient fires dancing in them. He was silent and calm, and he approached everything with caution. But his arcane powers were great, and no one risked disturbing his calmness. He was always found studying dusty tomes of spells and incantations but, at night, he would talk to the dead. Unlike most of his kin, he approached the lost souls with respect, never openly demanding, but always asking. His rituals always included fresh hot blood for the dead and in returned they could ask for the small favors the dead ask, to learn of their families and friends. In a barbaric era, Riathon was a noble man and he had the protection of the dead. In gratitude for his respect, the dead would tell him secrets of artifacts long lost and they would walk around him as protection, forming a mist that shielded him from harm.

Neferaton was the younger one, and for some reason, he felt cheated for being born second. Although identical in appearance, he had a dark soul. He considered the dead to be tools. He twisted and tortured them and when he had no other use for them, he tossed them back in the abyss. Even the other necromancers feared his rituals, as hellish screams were heard from his keep every night. No one, not even his brother, dared question his studies. And Neferaton had a secret goal, something even Riathon was unaware of. He wished not only to use death, but also to deceive death. His ultimate goal was immortality. And with the arcane knowledge he had gathered over the years, as soon as he became immortal he was sure he would be a god. In his secluded keep under the avatar of Trag'Oul he experimented with lost spells and exotic plants gathered from tombs and mausoleums, and he achieved in expanding his life beyond human standards. But it was not enough.

And then they heard the echoes of a fierce battle fought in Hell, of the Lesser Evils revolting against the Prime Evils. And the Limbo was filled with the essences of dead demons, and no summoner dared call on the dead. Because many rituals had taken a nasty twist and the unlucky necromancers had fallen under the powers of the dead demons. Not surprisingly, one of them thought this was a great opportunity to seek the dark secrets he desired.

In a dark room with strange engravings on the floor, illuminated by the dim light of black candles and filled with smoke of unholy incense, Neferaton challenged the souls of the dead demons. And they came. They came screaming and cursing, lusting for human blood. And they all fell to their knees. Neferaton was no ordinary necromancer. With enhanced powers of strange potions and ancient scrolls he confronted them and bound them with arcane chains. And he tortured every one of them until he found the secret he had been looking for all his life.

With tears of blood, screaming in despair, the soul of a dead Balrog told him an old tale, known only to few in Heaven and Hell. Under the Jungle of Kurast there is an old ruined Temple. No bird or animal passes through, the undead and the demons fear it. Sunlight doesn't penetrate the pale mist around it and night avoids this place. In an era before human kind appeared on Earth, an old race came here to worship their God. In the depths of the temple, there is a bottomless pit where offerings were thrown in. And from the dark void within, one day every year, the God would emerge and give birth to a huge pearly egg. On that day, Time would stand still until the Great White Worm would return to hiding, because even Time fears the God of Death.

The soul of the demon told Neferaton that the Ancient God still comes up every year and leaves his egg on the same site. But with the old Temple abandoned and no one to tend the eggs they rot in oblivion. The fluid of the eggs, if prepared and consumed accordingly to ancient scriptures, they grand the consumer of prolonged life as if Time stopped passing, just for him. And an old, unconfirmed myth speaks of an amulet that, if imbued in a Horadric Cube with a potion made of the eggs, it would grand its bearer immortality. But this amulet has never been found.

Neferaton dismissed the spirit with an excited gesture. He knew where that amulet was: around the neck of his brother Riathon, a gift from the lost souls. All he had to do was take it, and immortality was within his reach. But first, he had to get rid of the souls guarding his brother.

~*~

Aurion stopped for a moment and looked around. Cain and Macha had been captivated by the old tale. And they still could not see the horrors hidden between the lines....