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Chapter Eight: Apocalypse
"Two down, one to go." Raistlin silently reassured himself. He knew that the last gem he would seek lay beneath the monstrous Blood Sea of Istar. "I still can't believe those Silvanesti had enough courage to leave their home, yet alone find two of the sacred gems I seek. What a mysterious and courageous race." Raistlin stopped, and scoffed away the compliment. "What am I saying, mysterious yes, but courageous, not on my life. But then again," the archmagus smiled, "I've already lost my life."
Silently the magus reached into one of the golden robe's many pouches and drew out two gems, one black, and the other white. "Now the White Gem I understand, but why would those elves keep the Black Gem, aren't they aware of its black magic? Nevertheless, it matters not to me, for soon my dreams of godhood will be at hand."
Darkness was beginning to descend upon the horizon; the archmagus decided it was best to camp out the night rather than head on toward the Blood Sea at night. "Shirak" the archmagus spoke as the crystal upon his wooden staff flared to life, leaving behind a dull gray light, enough for protection, enough to stay hidden. Tomorrow I'll reach the shores of the Blood Sea, and then the gods themselves will see what can be done about the minor problem of the sea itself, and by the end of the day, I'll achieve my desire. But most the credit should go to my nephew, for if it was not for him, then I would have never decided to go out of my way for the other two gems." Raistlin smiled at a malicious thought, "and to prove him wrong, I'll use all the gems instead of choosing sides. I'll be damned if I would join the side of Takhisis, or Paladine." Even with such disturbing thoughts as those, the archmagus was soon sound asleep, waiting the dawn of his new beginning.
"Take me to the chapel which this Raistlin visited you say, now!" a fiery eyed mage shouted. An elf, medium in size stepped up to oppose this intrusion. "First state your business here in Silvanesti, then your name, and then perhaps you'll be allowed to visit the chapel." Patiently the magus took the verbal nonsense until he couldn't take any more of it. "I don't give a damn about your procedures!" fire burned in his eyes, making his point clear. The mage silently raised his right hand, "if you don't let me through this moment you can kiss your homeland goodbye!"
"Nonsense, you don't have the power to do so," Asylthas spoke, "only a Majere could do that, one of which you are not." Pleased with his accusation, Asylthas began to walk away. The magus instead turned his hand to the back of the elf lord. "Don't turn your back on me, Asylthas for I am a Majere indeed. My name is Seraph, or do you not remember me?" the magus smirked. The mention of Seraph startled the elf to the marrow, "You can't be Seraph, because he died when the Inn of the Last Home burnt down. I heard his agonizing cries. I know you are not he, leave or you will be escorted out."
"I demand to see this chapel, and not one of you will stop me!" Seraph shouted as the magic began to mix with his blood, boiling it to the surface. Asylthas had taken all the senseless bickering back and forth he could take, "Guards, take him away!" To the elves surprise a red aura was flickering around the magus, keeping several guards at bay. "Out of my way......" Flames ignited the magic aura around him, turning the red mage into a burning furnace. Leaves and twigs began to burn and crumbled under the heat of the mage's fire. Each step burning more lives of the plants the elves so dearly loved, Seraph continued to make his way forward to the chapel.
As Seraph wrecked terror on the elves and their homeland, a bright and warm sunrise woke an archmage, his gold robes glistening in the light. Shaking off the light dew that dampened even his body, the magus whispered the words of magic and the bright magic of the Staff blinked out. Golden eyes starred at the orange and sky blue glow that reflected on the horizon, allowing him to be lost within. In an absence of his thought, a low growl rumbled from beneath him. Extremely paranoid, ever watchful, the magus jumped back against the tree of which he slept in the shelter of its branches the night before.
"What is that sound, I don't recognize it?" the mage hissed as he heard it again, this time even louder. Realizing its secrets, the mage began to laugh at his stupidity. He had been dead far too long, he had forgotten a mortal body needed food. "Mortal!" shrieked Raistlin as the dark pit in his stomach rumbled again. Panic stole the breath from his lungs as he began to cough hysterically. In a gasp of breath real air flooded his now living lungs, as the cough dispersed. "It must be the power of the gems, or a plan of the gods to keep me from reaching my goal." Raistlin reassured himself as he took another gasp of air, only this time it was painful. He was dying; he had been dead for well over fifty years, his body nearly seventy.
"So that was why you foolish gods did nothing to stop me." Raistlin scoffed in frustration. "You knew it required a mortal body to become a god, and since I have been dead so long, I'll have a greater chance of dying before I reach the sea." Raistlin spat at the gods for doing this to him. But to him it meant nothing, he knew the one exception. "Do you hear me up there? I may be mortal, and close to death, but I have one thing a normal mortal does not." Raistlin smiled his dark smirk. "I hold control in both realms of existence you fools, mortal I may be, but Demi-god I am still!"
"If a mortal can use the power of abyss to bring something to him, then," Raistlin laughed "a Demi-god should be able to do the same on mortal plain. Blood Sea of Istar, bring yourself forth!"
Behind him burned a massive furnace of magic, lives sacrificed for nothing, beautiful exotic plants extinct, and the last remaining structure of the Silvanesti elves stood before him. Allowing the magical fire to die, and the flaming aura to dissipate, Seraph Majere stood before the chapel of Silvanost. Gorgeous crystal pillars supported a dome frame of rare ore, a platinum bell hung from one of the many terraces on the masterpiece. Admiring the scenery before entering, Seraph felt relaxed. Soon he would enter this chapel and discover what it was his uncle took, and then he would know where to find him. "I'll kill Raistlin if it's the last thing I do." Seraph promised.
Within the last step to the magnificent glass doors of the chapel, a thunderous earthquake rumbled. It felt as if the world itself had gone insane, images blurred Seraph's vision. But one image replayed in his mind, the sight of the chapel crumbling under the tremendous force of the shockwave. When he came to his senses, Seraph found himself in the High Tower of Sorcery in Palanthas. A ghastly image stood before him, a black robe, the dark elf Dalamar.
In a struggle to stand up, Seraph collapsed as pain seared his back and skull. Trying again, despite the pain, he fell again with a painful groan. "Where am I?" the red robe asked. Dalamar's ghastly apparition answered in a bone-chilling voice. "My tower, once the High Tower of Sorcery in Palanthas, but alas the city is no more I'm afraid." Dalamar sighed, as if he sensed remorse for what had happened to the mage.
"Dalamar..." Seraph began. "What...what do you mean...no more...what happened to it...?" The dark elf stood silent near the magus, listening to him gasp for what air he could breathe in without pain. "You're in pain because you broke through the magical walls of my tower. As for Palanthas, it doesn't matter, all will be over soon." Dalamar it seemed to Seraph couldn't continue.
"What's all over...what do you mean...Dalamar...please...tell me!" Seraph yelled as loud as his raspy voice could allow. Calmly Dalamar closed what it appeared to be his eyes, and once more his chilling voice made the hairs on Seraph's arm stand on end. "Palanthas, and every other city or town on this realm was destroyed only moments ago. By my Shalafi, you see young Seraph; your great uncle is now mortal and retains his godlike power. He used the same trick as in the abyss to summon the Blood Sea to him, since death now stalks him in old age it would seem." Dalamar sighed. "You see, when your uncle unleashed those powers on our realm of existence it caused an earthquake that destroyed every building in our world, except this tower."
"What about...all the innocent..." Seraph couldn't continue his breathing plagued by the pain of breath. "You mean the people?" Dalamar finished for him. "None perished that I can sense, strange though," the dark elf paused, seeming to think the matter over in his head. "Why did the earthquake keep every last human alive?" Seraph, whose breathing was becoming even less frequent, wondered what the dark elf was thinking. The answer came to Seraph as Dalamar muttered one word before falling to his knees. "Sacrifice..."
'Beneath the Blood of the sea rests a damned city, through the Art shall enter the Chosen.' Sixth of Seven, Chaos' Prophecy.
Opening his hourglass eyes, Raistlin Majere stood before the Blood Sea of Istar, pride and excitement swelled up within him. "I am here..." the archmagus softly called out as a golden aura surrounded him. "I am Chosen..." in a brilliant display of power, the golden aura shot forth across the Blood Sea, decimating the maelstrom in its heart. Raistlin couldn't believe this was happening he was fulfilling prophecies he knew not of, and was doing the impossible. He was unknowingly raising a city long since dead. "I am Art..." the mage's body was doused in golden light as seismic waves shook the world of mortals.
As if called by an unknown force, the golden aura began to seep within and mix with the Blood Sea, becoming the magic of the archmagus. Closing his eyes one last time Raistlin felt the power of magic fill the sea. Slowly the golden light of the magic shined in the hourglass voids of his eyes, and the sea roared. The land around him shook and shattered, morphed and disintegrated. Into the cold air, rose the ruins of a once wondrous empire, the city of Istar. Its doors open to the golden archmagus, the Demi-god, and the mortal Raistlin Majere, and inside waited the fate of all kind.
Time, life, the world, none seemed to matter to the archmagus as he began to ascend the stairs to the temple of the high priest. Lost in thought, and visions of Istar in its prime flooded the mage. Guided by the eyes of another, the high priest himself, he walked the same path to the antechamber of the Chaos Pedestal. Marvelous tapestries hung on the many walls and pillars, gold; worn and ancient adorned the mighty room, and in the center sat the Gray Gem itself.
No longer clouded by the visions and memories of Istar, Raistlin Majere could see his own cursed eyes gleaming back at him on every facet of the gem. Slowly, mainly cautious, the archmagus picked up the dormant gem and placed it in a pouch in his golden robe. "Now," thought Raistlin "where is the hidden passage to the Chamber of Chaos again?" Closing his eyes he entered the memories of the mages that sealed away the Chaos Pedestal. "One says left, another right, one up and one down?" Raistlin murmured.
"I understand the visions; they're a puzzle, a riddle." Raistlin muttered. The archmagus closed his eyes and walked off in the direction of his left. Not wanting to use his eyes for only the Art can find one of its own. At the point of change in the arcane presence, Raistlin turned to his right walking dead on toward a wall. The mage could hear his footsteps and began to grow frantic, if he didn't sense a change soon he'd end up running into the wall.
At the moment of doubt, to his surprise the presence stopped and continued upward. Acting through the magic, Raistlin rose to follow this precise trail. When he could feel the top of the ceiling the arcane trail dissipated, opening his eyes he saw a corner piece of the floor tapestry. "Wait a second!" Raistlin's mind screamed. "The tapestry is the key, look at it, arcane symbol for chaos written upon it." The magic burned inside like a roaring fire, out of his control it screamed to destroy the tapestry, to destroy the seal that held fast the hidden passage. Folding under the pressure, the magic was released with such intensity the tapestry burned into nothingness.
Like the click of lock the seal snapped and the archmagus heard stone scrape stone as the hidden passage was revealed. Walking blinded unto the antechamber of chaos, Raistlin's inner ambition boiled to be released. He thought of his nephew, his need to prove him wrong, his rise to power that he had chosen; the archmagus couldn't wait much longer.
The dim light of the Chaos Chamber came into view as Raistlin stepped forth into the misty room that was filled with seals and candles with every color flame, all safety precautions to keep thieves away. But most importantly seal away the power of the Chaos Pedestal that they created. "I wonder if those fools can overcome the power of all three gems and my magic." Raistlin pondered.
Retrieving the three gems from separate pouches in his gold robe, Raistlin walked across the dust covered floor to the Chaos Pedestal. Marvelous, spectacular, unbelievable, the Pedestal was composed of Obsidian, Crystal, Silver, Gold, Quartz, Topaz, and Aquamarine ore. All woven together in a magnificent masterpiece, endowed with the magical strengths of an Amethyst orb, this was truly the Chaos Pedestal. Raistlin let out a malicious and ambitious laugh as he placed all three gems on the Pedestal at once.
At that moment time itself froze for Raistlin Majere, while time continued to pass outside Istar, Dalamar fell to his knees cursing his Shalafi.
'Blinded by ambition, and pressured to a single side, the Chosen shall choose all. Then in the true ramifications of his decision, shall it end.' Seventh of Seven, Chaos' Final Prophecy.
For eternity Raistlin thought the pain would continue until he felt the pleasing power of magic start to complete him, fuse with him, godhood would be his. His body became translucent and began to fade. But when a white light shot out of the Pedestal of which the gems sat, Raistlin began to glow a brilliant white. Unknown to the archmagus, the white light was death in power, as it began to steadily creep over the world itself, stealing the minds, bodies, souls, and magic of those it touched. Life was going to die to give eternal life and ultimate power.
Wherever the light touched it remained, lives perished, absorbed into the powerful magic, as it continued its way to one place, Palanthas.
"Dalamar...what's wrong?" Seraph pleaded with the newly revived mage. "Shut up, just shut up!" the dark elf shouted. "Because of your damn uncle, the world is over! That's what the sacrifice means, all life dies to give eternal life to your uncle, godhood Seraph!" Dalamar fell to his knees still cursing his Shalafi for his foolishness. Seraph began to move, slowly at first, then faster until he was able to stand up. "Dalamar, help me stay up, I want to see what my uncle has unleashed before I die."
"Do what he says Dalamar..." came a familiar voice from a dark room in the tower. "Why should I Astinus? What's the point, we're going to die and we are unable to stop it!" Dalamar was now yelling at the top of his voice. Astinus sat down at the table behind the two mages, pull out a book and pen, and began to finish the last chronicle of Krynn and its history. While he was busy at work, and the two mages silently waiting for their ultimate demise the magic was steadily growing ever closer to them. They could all see the light as it broke the horizon on all sides. It was the end, they were trapped, and the final three sacrifices necessary to give Raistlin his ambitious dream.
"I see the magic of our doom Seraph! Can you see or have you fallen to close to death, darkness is what your eyes see?" Dalamar asked, now forced to yell for the sound of the magic was deafening. "Yes, I see it." Seraph wanted to say, but he couldn't make his mouth move. He was so afraid of death; he wished he could have stood up against his uncle. But he realized it was too late now, one way or another they were all going to die in moments. He momentarily glanced at Astinus. "He's still writing, he must be determined to finish what his life started." Seraph thought.
'In a world full of mortal existence I Astinus was endowed the sacred task of recording the history of this world, Krynn, from beginning 'til the bitter end. So thus it shall be. Raistlin Majere is now nearing complete godhood, an archgod he shall soon become. Here in front of me now stand the last two mortals, Dalamar the dark, and Seraph Majere. Two mages are humanity's last survivors, ironic I do believe. Before them now, creeps the deafening sound of Raistlin's magic, all other life is gone, all ruins and remains gone, as if it never were. It is too late, when Raistlin re-enters this world from Istar he shall look upon the horror his ambition has caused. Then if he fulfills his promise, the war shall ascend the barriers of existence to the realm of the gods...
"I can't take this!" Seraph's mind shouted. The magic burned to be set free, he had no choice but to try. "If this doesn't work all is lost, but it matters not to me, at least my uncle will have received what he always wanted. But it shall cost him everything." Seraph murmured as he let go of Dalamar, and walked out of the tower. He was going to try to stop this magic, one way or another.
'...Outside now stands the only relative of the archmagus Raistlin Majere. His great nephew Seraph stands firm and challenges the magic of his deluded uncle. Magic mixes with his blood and his life, fire flows freely from his cuts, scars, eyes and body. In a blaze he catches fire, the dark shadow of his wavering body beneath the flames of magic is all that can be seen. It is a selfless sacrifice that he has chosen. In an explosion of magic from the young mage the obsidian of the last High Tower of Sorcery shatters, raining its daggers of death upon us. By luck we survive, but not for long for the magic is upon us, in only one moment and all will...............'
Seraph's inner flames exploded as his body started to dissolve when the magic of his ambitious uncle touched the magical bomb. In a flash of white and blood red magic, Seraph sacrifices his life protecting him from entering his uncle's body. Dalamar the dark, kneeling before the might of Raistlin, and the death of Seraph; he too burns into oblivion, forever merged with his beloved and hated Shalafi.
The blood burning in his veins woke Raistlin Majere from the void of time in which he was cast. No longer is he in the city of Istar, no longer does Istar remain. Opening his eyes for the first time as an archgod, Raistlin stares in horror at the world. "This can not be," the archgod cried out. "Where is Krynn, where is the world I knew?" The answer comes to his omniscient mind and he drops to his knees, and begins to cry.
Drying his tears and standing tall, the archgod looks out upon the dead world of which he made so. Dead, dust, barren of life, not even the hint of ruins or remains of anything. "The world of Krynn is no more, I realize my error..." Raistlin sighed. "But I have bigger fish to fry, like the gods themselves, then even Chaos."
In an ambitious threat of war, Raistlin Majere the archgod, takes one final look at his old world, a realm of mortals; before fading against the darkness that will forever enshroud the existence of Krynn.
Fire burns within archgod Raistlin's eyes; he beholds the realm of the gods. With one final ambitious smile, his secret smile, he sets off in search of them.
-----What of Astinus you ask? You see, here is a special extra paragraph that will explain what happened to our beloved historian. Enjoy-----
For once Astinus was unable to write, it was beyond his control. He was afraid, watching the death of Seraph and his last attempt to stop his uncle, the death of Dalamar the dark, Raistlin's apprentice. He too realized that this was the end of him. Astinus felt a pain in the pit of his stomach, the fear was gone, and it was death. Jumping to his feet in defiance and acceptance, the magic collapsed upon the historian, but not before his body fell upon the table at which he wrote. The last chronicle remained untouched, the end of Krynn unreadable; only because of a single ink stain.
-----This in fact ends the fic, hoped you enjoyed it. Oh and sorry it took so long to write and post this final chapter, but I do hope it was worth the wait.-----