Cassius jerked awake, his eyes rapidly scanning the tiny room. "What the fuck." He mumbled as he held his hands in his head; memories of an ancient sword, flashing before his eyes. "Hurry." A ghostly whisper echoed through his head. As the voice disappeared, so too did the pain. Before he could really think about the dream he'd had or the voice; the door to his lodgings opened.
Sh'Ma strode in gracefully, wearing a thoughtful expression on her beautiful face. Cassius watched her for a moment, questions about the upcoming night running through his head. She stopped and studied him carefully, "I should have told you what would happen, for that. I'm truly sorry." She bowed her head in apology.
Cassius ran his hands through his long hair and took a breath, "Apology accepted, just next time be a little more forthcoming."
Sh'Ma nodded her head and let out a relieved breath, "I would like to ask you a question."
"Shoot."
"Why is it you know so little about the Ancients, or the world in general?" Sh'Ma asked seriously.
"I was wondering when you'd ask about that." He looked at her, "I'm not from this world, in fact, I'm from a world so different they can't even be compared."
Sh'Ma's mouth hung open, "Then how is it possible that you're here?"
"I was a soldier on my world, a world of just humans. We were fighting a terrible enemy, set on conquering the world." He paused and took a breath as he desperately tried to remember the details, "We were heading back to base when we discovered everyone had died. A beautiful, crimson stone, landed in our camp. It burned everyone, and when we discovered it; it overcame our senses and forced us to try and approach it." He sighed, "Next thing I know, I'm in a forest with a changed body and the world I know gone. Now every time I try to recall my past, it gets harder and harder; like I'm being forced to forget it."
Sh'Ma stared at Cassius in shock, "Then you know nothing of our world?" Cassius's shook his head, "Then there is much I must tell you before the Rite."
"Our world is clouded in mystery and legend. According to legend the Gods were the first being in existence. They were born from the All-Mother, creator of the universe. She originally had three children; we call them the Elder Gods: Uriel, Primus, and Irian." Cassius listened to her story, but found himself pondering over the name, Irian. He had heard it before, but he couldn't remember where.
"The three Elder Gods ruled peacefully over our empty world, but eventually the All-Mother gave birth to more life. Strange beasts and elementals; the Gods over time, reproduced with these creatures; giving birth to the next generation of Gods." Sh'Ma spoke passionately, "But in the end, Primus's son Bal-Tuhn betrayed them. He manipulated his kin and caused a civil war. Primus was slain first and after a vicious war, Irian sacrificed part of his essence to destroy the evil Bal-Tuhn had created, greatly weakening him."
"This left Uriel, the God of Life, to oversee the All-Mother's newest life forms, the Mortals. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, etc." She paused to catch her breath, "They guided through mortals for many millennia, until a truly powerful man arose; Mahtore, the Undead Lord. He conquered the human world bit by bit, slaying Telon's greatest heroes and Demi-Gods."
"The Gods were inevitably forced to involve themselves when it was discovered that the spirit of Bal-Tuhn had survived; he was using Mahtore to help him return to power."
Cassius interrupted her, "But what of the Dragons and Immortals?"
Sh'Ma smiled, "They come into play shortly." Cassius nodded and allowed her to continue with the history lesson, "The Gods, despite their power, were unable to truly make a difference. Bal-Tuhn had developed a means of neutralizing their power. So they were at a stand still for many years, the Gods controlling half of Telon; Bal-Tuhn the other."
"Desperate for help against their enemy, they went in search of Irian who had disappeared after he was weakened. After long years of searching they stumbled upon a new face hidden deep in the mountains, Dragons. They had been born from the union of Irian and the All-Mother; they were immensely powerful, just below the Gods." Sh'Ma's eyes had glazed over as she recounted the story that had so often thrilled her as a child, "Irian had developed a device that would end the war, but could only be used as a last measure. It was a powerful device that would send all the Gods into an eternal slumber, one they would be unable to awake from."
"During this war the Gods tutored many mortals and took them as disciples; which eventually lead to them attaining immortality. With the immortals and dragons on their side, the Gods pushed Bal-Tuhn back bit by bit; finally forcing a confrontation between the Gods." Sh'Ma's face took in a sad expression, "The Gods realized that as long as they existed, great evil would continue to rise. So they activated the device and the Gods were all forced into slumber. For several centuries after, the dragons and immortals helped guide mortals along the straight path. With their tasks completed, they too disappeared from the world."
Cassius contemplated the story for a moment, "What happened with the world after that?"
Sh'Ma's face became sad, "The world knew an era of peace, but that ended long ago. Without the power of the God's, the great Dungeons went dormant and terrifying beasts began to roam the land. Mortals grew powerful and war became constant. Our land is one of strife and sorrow; this is one of the reasons our people have hidden ourselves, but even in the Great-Wood we are not safe. As you've witnessed with the Trolls and other monsters."
"Why do the rulers not help?" Cassius asked.
"They are consumed in their petty wars and squabbles. They care nothing for their people or the well-being if the land." She then froze in thought for a moment, "The Emerald Prince of Pelemonte is one of the few caring rulers. He loves his people and tries his best to protect them, but his lands are always under siege."
"Who is this 'Emerald Prince'?"
"The last descendant of an immortal king who died in the Great War against Mahtore. He was the found of a great order known as the Elder Guard, but what purpose they served was carefully hidden." She then withdrew a map and pointed to a location, "Pelemonte is towards the west of this continent, and is the only thing protecting us from the horrors of the Wastelands. We are here." She said as she directed Cassius's gaze to a large forest on the northern part of the map. "To our North are the legendary White Mountains, rumored to house the Bastion of Irian. His sacred, mountain palace, where he lived and strengthened himself."
This caught Cassius's attention, something about the name Irian and the mountains were always vaguely familiar. Yet, he was no closer to solving the riddle as to why. "What is in the south?"
Sh'Ma slid her elegant finger across the ancient map, "This is the Duchy of Lamonte, and leads to the Crystal Sea."
Cassius absorbed all of this information, he had a strange feeling that told him he should collect all the information he could, especially on the White Mountains. "Thank you for this lesson, it was very informative. Do you mind if I ask some questions about this Rite?"
Sh'Ma shook her head, "Not at all. I would be disappointed if you didn't."
"What exactly is the Rite of the Ancient Ones, and what does it entail?"
"The Rite is ancient and was created by several of the Gods; it was then gifted to mortals. It would allow for the mortals to test who had the potential to be attain immortality; it also allowed them to identify Gods, Immortals, and Dragons." She allowed this to sink in, "For you, who I truly believe are an Ancient One, it should give you a series of tests and challenges. Testing an Ancient One is different from discovering potential, instead it is truly dangerous. If you are proven to not be an Ancient One, you will die."
Cassius followed along, listening closely. "But if I'm truly an Ancient One; wouldn't I have abilities?"
Sh'Ma frowned and looked appraisingly at Cassius, "Something that the Ancient Races all shared in common, was that they each had to attain an artifact, weapon, or item that would awaken their dormant powers. This is so for even the Gods, who each to discover the item they shared the most affinity with. After this was accomplished, their non-physical powers would awaken. Or so legend says."
As she explained this, Cassius once again thought of the White Mountains. Pain lanced through his head as the image of a beautiful sword with a dragon pommel, flashed through his eyes. "Fuck." He moaned and held his head.
Sh'Ma was quickly at his side and looking him over, "Are you alright, Cassius?"
Cassius regained control of himself and met Sh'Ma's concerned gaze. He forced a smile, "Just a headache, they've been coming off and on again for several days." He was hesitant to disclose any information about the sword he kept seeing; something told him that the fewer who knew about it, the better.
"If you're sure?" She asked and returned to her seat after he nodded. "Do you have any other questions?"
"I think I have all the information I need for right now, thank you."
Sh'Ma smiled and climbed to her feet, "You still have several hours before the Rite. I am sorry that you have to stay here in seclusion, but it's for both yours and our peoples' best interest. If you need anything just call for the guards, they will help you."
Cassius stood and tried to hand her the map, but she shook her head. "You keep it, you will need it more then I. We will return before the Rite, get some rest." She said and exited the tiny building.
Cassius's face lit up as he saw that she left behind some food and tea. He quickly ate the food, some sort of delicious bread, and drank the herbal tea. He then walked over to his bedding and sat down. "What is going on with my memories and the strange feeling I get from mentioning the White Mountains?" He thought on this for several minutes, but came up blank. He was more alarmed by losing his memories, even those of his wife and son; seemed to be getting suctioned away. It was getting progressively harder to even recall their names and faces.
After some time, he drifted into sleep; only to be plagued by similar dreams. "Time grows short, the Rite will be passed. You must then hurry, the Bastion holds the sword. Without the sword, the power cannot be restored." The black void that was his dream slowly changed, color appearing and the scenery changing. A tall figure in a black hood and black tendrils swirling around him stood in a land of the dead. His black eyes were focused on the distance, but slowly turned and stared at Cassius with unblinking eyes. I'm their depths a fire burned, like coal.
"Who are you?" The cloaked figure spoke in a cold and emotionless voice. Cassius tried to speak, but found himself unable. The figure slid bony fingers up to his hood and slid it back, revealing horrifying features. Charcoal skin hung loosely to what appeared to be the creatures skull. As Cassius stared at the creature, his heart clenched in pure hate. A hate unlike any he'd ever felt; this thing was without a doubt evil. It was a stain in the world and deserved to be cleansed.
As he thought these things, a different, more evil voice echoed throughout the dead land. "What do we have here?" The malevolent voice cackled. It paused and took a deep breath, "A familiar sent, one I haven't smelt in ages. Could it be? No, impossible." The voice seemed to conflict itself. Even the creature before him, bore fear in his eyes; this caused Cassius to be even more wary. "Only one way to find out." The voice hissed. Just as Cassius felt a horrendous grip on his soul, the black void reappeared.
"Hurry Cassius, this is just the tip of the iceberg. We are already almost out of time."
****
The Wastelands, Outskirts of the Kingdom of Pelemonte.
"I think we are in trouble." The Prince whispered to Commander Locke, who stared in obvious shock at the spectacle in the distance.
Locke's calm demeanor had been shaken, "I think you may be right, My Prince." He said as a giant black figure soared over the giant army of Wyrmkin.
An unsteady voice spoke out from the guard behind them, "What is that, Prince Wes?"
Dante Wes shivered and took a deep breath to steady himself, "That my friends is something not meant to exist, and long thought deceased." He scratched his unshaven face, feeling the familiar sensation of growth. "It's a Great Black Wyrm, and the progenitor of the Wyrmkin." The usually strong willed men behind him struggled to stifle a gasp.
Locke watched grimly as the Wyrm flew off, deeper into the wastes and the Wyrmkin began to set up what appeared to be a camp. He turned slowly and looked at the Prince he'd sworn to protect since the reign of the last Emerald King, "I believe it's time to gather our army."
The Emerald Prince nodded in agreement, "I believe you're right, and I don't think we have much time."
Locke then turned to his men and issued several commands, breaking them from their stupor. "Come, My Prince, we do not have much time."
Dante steeled his resolve and mounted a large winged horse, a Pegasus, and commanded it to fly. With powerful gusts of it's white wings, it shot into the blue sky with the scarred Prince upon it's back. This was followed by commander Locke and the remnants of the guards who had accompanied them. As he took air behind the Prince, he took one last glance over his shoulder at the vast army in the Wasteland, "We may already be out of time." He mumbled.
****
The Undead Lands.
Mahtore groaned as the Master exerted his will down upon him, forcing him to drop to his knees. "The time draws near. Prepare the armies for the alignment, within the next few days we can once again enter the mortal realm of Telon." The evil voice of the Master trailed off, "I've waited almost 30,000 years for my revenge, and with you at my side, disciple; I will finally have what is mine." The Master laughed, and the surrounding mountains of the valley crumbled.
The pressure on Mahtore finally lifted and he stood unsteadily to his feet, "What was that presence that I felt watching us, Master?"
The Master's icy voice echoed through his head, "Nothing to be concerned with Servant, you must focus on the task at hand. You cannot fail me again, there will not be another chance."
Mahtore shivered in fear, "Yes, Master."
"Good. Leave me now Servant, we shall speak again soon." With that, he felt the Master's presence disappeared.
Mahtore sighed in relief and hate once again consumed his soul. The Master might be stronger then him now, but with the return of the Ancient Ones. His power would also return to it's full height, and then he could throw off the chains of servitude that Bal-Tuhn had constrained him too for so many millennia. "Soon." He whispered to himself, careful to not alert the Master. "Very soon."