Nevetharine was a young woman. In brilliant contrast to her white hair, her eyes were greener than the most vibrant emerald. She was gaunt, like a withered flower. Even so, she still had enough strength to get by well on most days.
Occasionally, she suffered bouts of exhaustion so severe that she couldn't lift her head. Those were the times that Meena had to work twice as hard to do her work too.
Magnus seemed to be somewhat lenient toward Meena's requests for her rest for some reason. And he had a narcissistic fondness of Nevetharine. She sank down onto the hay bed and sighed. How she wished all Meena's stories were true. Unfortunately, they were nothing more than the product of a troubled teenager's imagination. Perhaps it was her attempt at escaping the reality of their impending doom. Meena was only sixteen years old, after all.
She turned her head and stared into the flame of the candle. Something about fire always fascinated her. It felt warm, passionate, and oddly familiar. It felt like it gave her strength, like it fed her. It was like a dear, old friend.
Time to sleep or you'll regret it, she thought. At dawn they had to be up and working. Keeping the fortress wasn't really such hard work. But Magnus and his horde made it that way, purely for the sake of torture. After all, who wants to work when you are practically keeling over from exhaustion and starvation?
If Magnus saw them so much as slow down to drink water, they would be thrown into the dungeon or given to the guards as "payment" to be either tormented or raped. If three mistakes were made, they were handed over to demonic monstrosities to be sacrificed or eaten alive. Either way, their fates of death were sealed. But those who were enslaved in Vudreigh had a somewhat better life than those who were on the outside of these tall, stone walls. They were killed outright and turned into undead slaves, no questions asked. Once transformed, no magic could make them retake human form ever again.
With a good deal of effort, Nevetharine stopped her train of thought, promptly closed her eyes, and willed herself to sleep.
***
Magnus stared intently into the radiant, crystal ball on his fir wood staff. The ball hypnotized him often. This was no ball for looking into the future. He was fascinated with how well Triphacyte, a clear crystal, could not only keep hold of all the power of the Soul, but that it could transmit that power to him, at will. This was something that he had to be careful with. The sheer amount of energy could scorch through him until nothing but dust remained. He could only make use of the tiniest amount at a time. When he looked long enough he could almost see her - hear her screaming. He not only heard her piercing scream in the ball, but she also haunted him in his dreams. Such a powerful being, rendered helpless by a single symbol of magic.
Had it not been for circumstances, he never would have come across the symbol in the first place. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Back in those days he was just your run-of-the-mill mage, dabbling in magic and spells here and there. Magnus had been cursed with the abilities of a mage since birth. He grew up loathed by everyone in his village, including his parents. People were wary of mages in the days of old. They saw it as an uncontrollable skill and feared that it would get out of hand, even with the influence of its host. The only good mage, in their opinion, was the one hanging from the gallows…
Then, one day, a sorcerer arrived in his childhood village and slaughtered everyone he knew for their life force energy, which he used to advance his power. Recognising that Magnus had the same talent, the sorcerer took him captive and raised him, heartlessly, as his apprentice. He never spoke of his reasons and Magnus never cared to ask. He grew up hating the man, constantly contemplating revenge, although he learnt quite a lot from him and eventually grew to admire his malice. In cruelty, Magnus saw strength and supremacy. Whatever kindness was left in him as a child was dwarfed by the sorcerer's unrelenting brutality.
He discovered the map in one of the sorcerer's scrolls. As a teenage boy, the map captivated Magnus' imagination in all its mystery. It was then that he decided to run away and pursue it. It called to his soul, if he had one. He shared a mental connection with his Master, and the Sorcerer made sure that, the moment he left, he knew that he would be hunted down and slayed. This drove Magnus onward. He could feel that the end of his struggles lay with the map. Being hunted felt like an adventure to him. However, when he found the symbol, he had no way to make sense of it. Many claimed that he had gone mad. Was it madness, or desperation? Maybe it was a search for some sort of power when he had none. At this point in his life, it hardly mattered. The symbol he found was ancient and foreign, written in a language that no scholar could interpret.
Desperate for an answer and an end to his struggles, he resorted to using Blood Magic for the first time. He was able to contact a Shadow Demon from the Obsidian Realm, named Thar'Gan.
Thar'Gan told him that the rune was connected to the birth of the Celestial Souls and their coming to Narana, the planet. Then it suggested that the symbol's magic could be used to kill them. Thar'Gan bartered with Magnus. It told him that the demons of the Obsidian Realm wanted to experience a physical existence and vowed to make him the most powerful mage since the beginning of time, if he helped them. He would be given powers that would exceed those of even the Celestial Souls, if he could manage to use the Triphacyte crystal ball to capture one's power, and use it against the others. Theirs was a power plenty enough to open the portals needed for all of the demons to make their way into Narana. Magnus did not hesitate to accept the offer. Here was his chance at real power! The Celestial Souls had never aided him before. Why should he care about them or anyone else for that matter?
But which Soul to capture? Three Souls existed in this universe and thousands more in billions of other universes and realms. At least one of them was necessary for his mission - Death. The other one was much too powerful to take head on - the Elder. And then there was one left - Life. They called her Great Mother. She had extraordinary powers. Her reckonings were natural disasters. She gave birth to all things living. Planets, plants, creatures that walk on land and swim in the deep waters were all controlled by her. Even mankind was under her rule, to an extent. Her being was folded into existence in all corners of the universe. She was the chosen one. With the power he captured from her, he would have what he needed to either imprison or slay the other two, in due time.
Once he could capture the Elder everything else would fall into place. He would have enough power to open the gates of the Obsidian Realm and unleash all the souls of the damned upon this world. They required an enormous amount of energy. He would set the demonic spawn free, which would complete his end of the deal with Thar'Gan.
He turned his gaze from the crystal ball and walked to the window. He looked up into the sky, as he did frequently. The planet was now under a constant dark overcast. Once he captured her, everything changed in the demons' favour. But it was not enough…
The Elder's rays could still penetrate the planet through the thick cloud cover. The demons could not survive in his light. They perished like dust. Now, with his rays somewhat covered up, they didn't just incinerate within seconds, but they were drained of strength. Until Magnus captured the Elder, his deal with Thar'Gan remained incomplete. And nobody wants to cross a shadow demon…