Chapter 3: The Halls of Alaronus
"Now," the god avatar boomed, after Magnus had accepted his offer, "there is much to be done. First, your strength must be enhanced and all of you other abilities as well. Come." With that, he turned and strangely enough, lifted off the ground, and began soaring through the air. Magnus watched as he left, standing upon the ground, arms crossed, and tapping his foot. After a few moments, the avatar returned.
"My apologies," Zigar told him with a chuckle, "I sometimes forget that your transient people do not have the gift of flight. Very well, we will do this the easy way I suppose." With that, he reached out a hand, offering it. Magnus knew what was coming, so with no hesitation, took hold of his hand and waited. Just as he had surmised, almost instantly there was a flash, a blaze of light, accompanied by an audible crack.
When he was able to see again, the light having subsided, Magnus could see that he was within a huge building. The air around was still hot and dry, almost to an unbearable level. Except he didn't feel that. To him, it felt no worse than a sunny day. The room in which he stood hardly could be called a room. It was an assembly area, a hall, an imposing and immense chamber, filled with an unearthly scarlet glow about everything.
Massive pillars lined the walls, stretching upward, vanishing into a reddish haze. From further down the colossal hall, there were numerous sounds, all of which were familiar. The sounds of a crowd of people talking, working, the constant clang of metal striking metal, most likely hammers hitting an anvil, as this place was a site of magical weapon construction. The clanking of chains, the hissing of steam, all the familiar sounds of a busy and great forge, working at full capacity.
Magnus stared around, his face not betraying his interest. His expression was more difficult to read than a stone's, but he was actually greatly fascinated by this place. The Halls of Alaronus were; after all, the famous forge of the gods themselves, if one is to believe legends and stories.
But the fact that he was standing in the sacred, and not to mention scorching halls themselves, was proof enough that the stories had all been correct, that the place where the greatest and most devastating weapons ever conceived was indeed real. To come face to face with what had previously been considered folklore and mere tales, it leaves one rather stunned, even a man as disciplined as Magnus. Although…he never showed it. He was far too unfeeling to display emotions like that.
"Stunning isn't it," the physical shell of the Fire God asked, gazing around himself, "Constructed before we gods were ever created, the original home of Otho, the Domestic Overseer of all Creation. Now converted into the ultimate forge, as well as a temporary bastion for myself, where the mightiest of smiths craft unimaginable power within weapons and armor. But for you, obtaining such weapons is secondary. First, you must be awarded the power that I have promised you. There is an alter at the other end of this place. Once you've mounted the dais, there will be a ritual, and once it is concluded, you shall emerge from this place as a demi-god. Following this, I shall allow you to become accustom to your newfound abilities. And from there you may go about securing your equipment. Come, let us go."
Without even waiting for an answer, Zigar began to stride right down the center of the hall. Not one to leave someone waiting, Magnus fell in step behind him, still surveying the entire layout of the place. The two of them passed by many open doors while proceeding to the rear of the building, giving Magnus a view of some most peculiar sights.
In one chamber, there appeared to be a great revelry going on, huge burly men with long beards, sitting at a massive table, eating, drinking, talking loudly, and laughing heartily. They looked to be having a grand old time.
In another room, there were numerous hooded beings, sitting at tables. All around the room were bookshelves, housing a vast quantity of books and tomes. If the hooded people had been saying anything to one another, engaged in deep conversation, then their voices would have surely been drowned out by the rowdy lot in the previous room.
Then, something one would expect to see in a blacksmiths establishment, a room full of hammers, anvils, a great roaring forge. As well as a large heavy set man, with a stream of greasy coal black hair, pounding away with a silver hammer, repeatedly striking a long piece of scorching hot metal, sending sparks flying with each hit. There were other things as well, each on interesting in its own way.
Besides, Magnus was mostly preoccupied with what lay at the opposite end of the hall. The dais where this ritual would be done. Despite his previous non-interest, he had a spark of curiosity now; the promise of great power over fire, and access to weapons of unparalleled strength sort of tickled his fancy.
The thought of being immortal too, stirred his inquisitive nature, as without having a constraint of time on his own existence, he could be free to spend years and years to greatly focus on his psionic abilities, and begin the arduous task of harnessing the true power of the mind. The results of such demanding training would be reward enough, compensation for the long period of stressful concentration, and quiet hours of deep meditation.
After a bit of walking, traversing through the main chamber, Zigar motioned Magnus through a set of large iron doors, inscribed with myriad symbols, some of which he could read, others he could not, and others still that he couldn't even guess. Inside was yet another cavernous room, with similar pillars stretching upward towards the ceiling. However, in the center of this room, there was indeed a dais, made of black obsidian rock, constructed in a circle, columns set around the outskirts.
Raging in the center of the alter was an inferno, a towering dancing fire, the core of which was glowing brighter than any normal flame. Standing just on the outskirts of the black circle were more hooded figures, their hands out in front of them, holding their palms out to the massive fire, standing motionless. As Zigar entered, they all turned to face him, and bowed low, as a sign of respect. The avatar waved a dismissing hand, and stepped to the side, gesturing behind, at Magnus, who was only standing there silently, watching.
From beneath the hoods, there were gleaming eyes, as they studied the man carefully. Then, they stepped away from the fire, parting the way. Zigar swiveled his head around, staring back at Magnus.
"Proceed into the fire."
Now, when one is asked to step near to a fire, they are normally squeamish, but to be asked to step into it…they would flat out tell you no way. But Magnus wasn't afraid. He had already determined that everything that was happening here was not fake, and while he still didn't really understand as to why he had been chosen for this duty, he knew that he was going to be granted power. And in order to obtain the power over Fire, he would need to step into fire. That made enough sense.
So, without even asking for an explanation, without even hesitating, Magnus casually strolled into the chamber, passing several of the monk-like guys, noticing how very short all of them were close up, and stepped up the dais. He could feel the overwhelming and absolutely unbearable heat from back where he was, but up close, it was staggering. Nonetheless, moving swiftly, he passed through the fire. There was pain, very much. Almost white hot agony, but Magnus wasn't one to shrink away from pain. He had suffered through Drow torture, something that is more horrific than death itself, so he only moved onward.
The disturbing thing was, the fire wasn't quite as hot as one would imagine. From its size and intensity, it wouldn't have been surprising had it incinerated anything that got close to it. Magnus, a man of flesh and blood and bones walked right into it, and wasn't consumed to ash in seconds. And even as the pain washed over him, his body wasn't actually sustaining any physical damage. It was all within his mind, seizing his brain in a strangle hold of anguish.
Magnus walked right to the center of the alter, for as he entered the fire, he could see, even past the intense brilliance about him, there on the black obsidian floor, a single rune was shimmering. A glyph he was familiar with. It was the simple symbol for the element of Fire. It seemed logical enough to him, that stepping into the fire was not sufficient, and he had to make his way to the emblem. This was impressive indeed that he could logically think even while he was trudging though an everlasting fire, burning him to his very soul.
Each continuing step sent another wave of grueling torture through his body, but he was persistent, and far too stubborn to submit to either bodily or mental harm. He kept walking, little by little, and finally, he stepped onto the shining mark. At once, there was an almost explosive-like reaction. There was a blast of intense light, pouring out of nowhere, engulfing the entire Hall of Alaronus in its blistering glare. This was accompanied by a howling whine of…something. Energy perhaps, or maybe just raw power. The octave of the sound kept rising, growing higher and higher, until it was a deafening unearthly shriek, ripping throughout everyone's mind like a rampaging banshee.
Every single person in the hall, the monks; the boisterous partiers in the room a ways back, the smiths, everyone, with the exception of the God of Fire himself, cringed and covered their ears in a vain attempt to block out the horrendous noise. And finally, there was a boom, an explosion that sent a concussion blast of air hotter than fire ripping throughout the massive structure. And that roaring boom was far more forceful than a mere a wave of thunder. The intensity of it sent all items throughout the hall flying in a scattered frenzy. Then…all was silent.
Zigar stood watching, to him, everything had been as clear as the light of day. He knew he had chosen wisely. Magnus hadn't shown any fear in following the order to enter the Flame of Eternity. Didn't even hesitate. Not only that, but to hold all the unbearable pain in, not succumbing to such torture and begging to escape. And finally, he figured it out himself that his goal wasn't just to enter the fire, but to stand upon the Holy Glyph, a symbol that houses a bit of the God of Fire's essence. By stepping onto it, Magnus was now fused with the power of fire for all time. Clearly evident now.
For, as the light faded, and visuals were reestablished, it was apparent there was a change. The fire was still burning as strongly as before, but the figure inside was no longer hunched over, a clear sign of being strained. No, it was standing straight, and even though it was nothing but a shadow, there was an air of power about it, dark eyes staring out. With a confident stride, Magnus emerged, his body still intact, his flesh unblemished, not eve looking warm, but his clothes and all of his personal items had been melted away. He was still radiating dark smoke from where they had burned off of his skin.
As he had stepped upon the mark, Magnus felt the pain within him vanish, as in a puff of a cloud of feathers. He now only felt soothing relief, as if he had emerged from the fire and jumped straightaway into a heap of snow. Even more, he could tell he was changing. His body was tingling, above the skin and below. His muscles felt like they were straining, expanding causing his build to grow even more sturdy. His senses felt sharpened, he perceive far more that the fire around him. He could now see the core of the fire itself, down to the very nothingness from whence it had come, and he could hear sounds beyond the roar of the blaze, the resonance of the air getting heated, and gently popping under the pressure.
Furthermore, he felt a prickling sensation run across his skin, with a hint of warmth to it. Looking down, he was none too surprised to see his skin was beginning to grow red, gaining a lustrous scarlet tint to it. For a moment, he was completely crimson, a man with skin as red as blood. But this soon faded, giving way to his previously pale skin. When all these new sensations ceased, when no more of these waves of peculiar new feelings swept through him, and he felt whole again, he figured what had needed to be done had been done, and he now no longer needed to be standing in the fire.
Speaking of which, the fire didn't bother him in the slightest anymore. It may as well not have been there. There was no pain, no heat, and no interference with his vision. As far as he could see, he was completely immune to the fire.
As he emerged, Zigar gave his hands a slow clap.
"Now I think you may understand better as to why I chose you for this. Many before you had attempted this ritual, but they succumbed to the worldly aspect of pain. You are the first to pass, the first worthy of the power over fire. I am pleased greatly to see that you are as strong as I had hoped. Greeting to you Magnus…Demi-God of Fire."
And indeed he was. Leaving the fire behind, Magnus now had a sort of gleaming aura about him, a gentle smoldering glow, radiating off his skin like embers.
"Now, before we get ahead of ourselves, you will need to get dressed in a proper attire. Follow." Magnus didn't move.
"I wish you would have told me that my personal affects would have been destroyed. I've just lost something very important to me." Zigar turned away, shrugging.
"Such is life. For great power, sacrifices must be made. Come, there is much to do." The avatar started off, and despite his loss, Magnus followed. He was led once more through the halls, down to a smaller corridor. As they walked, there was a unnerving silence, as all of those inside the Halls were now watching, getting a glimpse of the one who had finally been appointed the Demi-God, the second in command to the big boss himself.
The room he was led to was full of armor and weapons, hanging from the walls, each letting off their own magical aura. Zigar pointed to a steel bench further down. Folded up, already waiting, was a bundle of black clothes.
"I had these prepared a while back. I trust their style and color suits you?" Checking them out, it was no surprise that they were indeed his style. Plain and simple, and in his favorite color. A basic black tunic, a black set of pants, black boots, and a belt, with a small silver buckle. And underneath all of these there was a small bundle wrapped up in a piece of blue silk. Inside, was a silver medallion, with small, almost clumsy engravings on it. Magnus's necklace. What he thought he had lost…
"I figured if you could keep something, it would be that. So, I took the liberty of saving it. You are welcome." Magnus didn't bother answering, and merely unclasped the silver chain, slid it around his neck, before refastening it, back into its proper place.
"Now that you are dressed, I have no doubt that you want to test your newfound abilities. I shall take you to the training grounds."