Prologue
Somewhere in an unknown place at an unknown time
The wizard sat in the dark of night, the room illuminated only by candlelight. His skin appeared eerily white and his face was etched with lines of age. His very name was feared by all who dared speak it, and those who did, did so silently fearing that even the word could get him to them. And yet, despite his vast power and domination he wanted more. He wanted to rule the wizarding and muggle world for generations to come.
To this end he picked up an ancient scroll and began to read. While his fingers brushed over the worn pages of parchment he came upon a particular old spell. It was a spell that even he, the most evil and darkest wizard in the world, was afraid of using. The consequences of failing the spell were so that even he would not dare use it lightly, for if he failed, the world as he knew it would end.
As he contemplated the ancient incantation before him, a twinge of uncertainty gnawed at his resolve. 'this spell would ensure my domination,' he mused 'but is the power I would wield truly worth the cost if I fail?' his thoughts circled like vultures, torn between the lure of power and the consequences of failure.
His unease was rooted in a history older than the pages of the scroll he held. In the history of the spell, only one wizard had ever dared use it. His attempt had not given him power, but led to him being taken by the very creatures he desired to command. He was taken by the creatures to the realm of which they came from. This realm was said to be so dark and inhabited by creatures so wicked, that they could strike fear in to the hears of even dementors.
His musings resounded within the dimly lit chamber, his thoughts like the ghostly whispers of ages past. 'I shall not share the faith of the fool who tried the spell before me.' The promises of domination flogged his mind, . 'do I really need the extra power? Are my men not enough? Is my power not the greatest of all wizards and witches?' he thought as he paced. His figure casting dancing shadows on the wall. In the end, he made the decision to not use the spell, but to keep it safe, as a last resort, when all other options would be exhausted.
A few days after his decision, he found himself locked in a final battle for absolute dominance. The last vestiges of resistance rallied against him, led by none other than the legendary wizard himself: Merlin.
The clash was nothing short of apocalyptic. Wizards and witches on both sides fell, their powers colliding in explosive displays of magic. His generals and the darkest of creatures engaged in a brutal struggle against the forces of light. And then, amid the chaos, he confronted Merlin face to face. There was no time for gloating or grand speeches; they plunged headlong into the fray.
The battle raged on, the two titans clashing with a ferocity that shook the very foundations of reality. Yet, for all his dark might, victory remained elusive. The legendary wizard proved an unyielding foe, and slowly but surely, the tide turned against him.
Battered and broken, he fell to the blood-soaked earth, his strength waning. Merlin, victorious but with no words of triumph, stood over him. 'Any last words, foul evil wizard?' Merlin asked, his voice a weary echo of a war-worn soul.
But it was too late for words. The dark wizard, whose name none dared to speak, lay lifeless on the ground before Merlin. It seemed like the end of a long and terrible war, and the world breathed a sigh of relief. All seemed well.