The large stone walls rose above the two soldiers and it wasn't until they were facing danger did they actually notice the details of the keep. The wall was high, built of a thick strong stone, crafted seamlessly. Statues of gargoyles were strung along the top of the wall and there at the gates, lay what was left of Thor, Val and Julius. They had changed over the past few hours, their bodies deformed and mutated into bizarre, horrific creatures. Extra limbs and features had protruded from their bodies but was most frightening was that they still retained some of their old features. They lay lifeless on the ground; the mage had obviously shown no mercy to his slaves. As they neared the walls, the gates slid open on their own revealing what was no longer a small hut but what loomed was a large tower. It was built from black stone, and featureless until the top, where lay a platform, around fifteen metres in diameter. A humanoid figure could just be made out. Dark black energy swirled around the tower.
"I foresaw you arriving at my temple… Zanatos," a voice boomed. It seemed to come from the air itself, "Just as I foresaw you coming to this village."
Zanatos looked up at the top of the tower, rain spilling across his face like an epidemic. "The end of the world is nigh my friend, soon the vines shall be planted and then… well you distinguish…"
Zanatos glanced at the frightened Arturo grimly, a grim frown forming over his ashen face.
"Listen, draw your bow, I will need your assistance, stay down here and wait for my call," shouted Zanatos above the rain. Lightning and explosions sounded on the platform on the platform and the closer they got to the tower, the thicker the air became and the faint smell of death resided in the air. It was time…
Zanatos spread his arms and let the thoughts swirl around in his mind, he let them course through his body and flow through his veins. They focused into shattering intensity and then he let it all go…Arturo stared in horror at Zanatos a thick aura of darkness surrounded him, his eyes glowed a deep blood red and he began to rise, his body rose into the air and flew to the top of the tower…
The air was a thick black and the intense smell of decay flowed through Zanatos' nostrils. Zanatos stood at the top of the platform, across him stood the mage who had discarded his old fatigues. He now stood at the edge of the platform, a maniacal figure, cloaked in a sea of black, his face was deformed and twisted into an insane grin dark black energy swirled and exploded at his finger tips as he cast spells released upon the centre or the platform. In the centre of the platform resided the plant. The small plant seemed unaffected by the dark energy bolts and swirling masses of darkness inflicted upon it.
"Hello Zanatos, are you here to challenge me?" said the necromancer who paused his spell casting ritual.
"I can't let you spread this hell spawn. I can't let you live…Caeon…" said Zanatos, staring grimly into his nemesis' cold, lifeless eyes.
"Ha-ha! So you do remember me old friend. Why if you kill me you're only killing yourself… Look at yourself and tell me who your are… we aren't so altered…Don't you remember me Zanatos? The seventh servant? Caeon? ". The necromancer, smiled slyly.
"I'm not a servant of evil like you Caeon!" he screamed as he charged toward the necromancer. He felt power course through his veins and storm in his mind as he lunged at the necromancer. But the power wasn't the filthy black magic but something different The necromancer chanted some words and swirling black lightning bolt flew out of his pale finger tips striking Zanatos straight in the stomach. Zanatos screamed in pain as he felt abdomen begin to decay. He flew at Caeon and crashed straight into him. The two of them both struggled to get up. Lightning flashed dangerously close to the two figures. The cackling necromancer released yet another spell. A green beam of lightning flew from his hands into Zanatos' shoulder burning straight through. Zanato's grabbed the burn and was glad the necromancer had only grazed him. Zanatos slammed the necromancer with a vicious uppercut, filled by the sacred anger that drove a man's feats beyond possibility. The necromancer cast another spell as he stumbled to his feet, Zanatos could feel his skin bubbling but the pain he could barely feel anymore. He was beyond pain. He swung another punch straight into Caeons face, his face shattering. He then grabbed his arm and twisted, snapping the bone clean. Caeon shrieked in pain and desperately released another spell. Zanatos body began to rot uncontrollably but it held. For the first time in decades he felt the great surging power of Zaen. He felt he could hardly contain the power as he strode over the now scorched and battered platform. He looked at Caeon, once his friend, now a mass of evil, battered and bleeding, pulling himself to his knees. The necromancer lunged to his feet, screaming necromantic words as large ball of flame formed and slammed into Zanatos. Caeon was a man facing death, his face streaming with blood, his teeth gritted. He wasn't going to die now, after so many years. Zanatos couldn't be stopped, inside him boiled a see of flame. It was not the black flame but a white flame. It became too much for Caeon to withstand, his body began to burn, his black robes, began to sink to dust. Zanatos drew his sword, the hell forged artefact which had cursed him for the countless centuries. He didn't need it any more; he didn't need the hell anymore. He picked up the broken Caeon and stared into his old friends eyes. He grabbed his shoulders and held him high above his head. A great white bolt of lightning struck Zanatos. The energy became too much and he clasped down on Caeons shoulders and pulled. The body tore clean into two pieces straight above Zanatos. Black blood raining down upon him as lightning struck the platform. Organs and bones spilled all over the platform. Zanatos dropped the body and ran across the blood stained wreckage and picked up the plant. He lunged it off the edge of the tower and screamed, "ARTURO!"
Arturo glanced straight up and within seconds he had an arrow, sharply loaded. He fired it from his massive longbow in the rain. As the plant flew through the air an arrow tore straight through it, tearing it into several pieces.
Zanatos awoke in a small forest clearing. He felt different and he knew what it was. The villagers probably never knew what happened to the evil mage in the small hut but they had noticed that the winter storms had ceased. He was bandaged up and couldn't move well. His eyes darted around and he noticed Arturo brewing some stew. He was finally cleansed. He whispered a silent prayer to Zaen, for the first time in centuries.