The November wind, descending with an almost spectral grace from the distant stars,
wove through the night with a sound as elusive and haunting as the hiss of an artist's airbrush. Its touch was as delicate as the whisper of a dream, spreading the pale, silvery moonlight like an ethereal mist over the sprawling landscape. This luminous haze, mysterious and almost sentient, unfurled across the ancient rooftops of the castle and the venerable abbey, casting a spectral glow that melded the structures into the nocturnal tableau.
The once-grand edifices, now cloaked in the eerie sheen of moonlight, seemed to come alive with an unsettling vibrancy. Shadows danced along the weathered stone walls, twisting and elongating in unnatural patterns, as if they were alive with their own dark secrets. The moonlight, cold and unfeeling, poured over the timeworn turrets and the crumbling battlements, draping them in a ghostly luminescence that made the very air around them shimmer with an unsettling energy. Every gust of the wind carried with it a sense of foreboding, as if the night itself held its breath in anticipation.
The silence between the gusts was thick with suspense, punctuated only by the occasional distant, mournful creak of the castle's ancient timbers. The moonlight seemed to pulse with a hidden rhythm, casting a spectral sheen that blurred the boundaries between reality and illusion, as though the very night was a canvas waiting to reveal its darkest secrets.
At exactly midnight, Dazain,
who was an abbot, stepped out of the monastery and made his way toward the forest at the edge of the grounds. Even though he was blind, he didn't need any light to guide him; he knew the path by heart.
From time to time, his blindness did cause him to falter, but he always found his way again. As he walked, the cool night air brushed against his face, and he could hear strange, unfamiliar sounds coming from deep within the towering pines. These noises echoed eerily through the dense forest, filling the still night with an unsettling mystery. The forest seemed alive with whispers and rustling leaves, adding a sense of anticipation and intrigue to his journey.
He carried no weapon because he feared nothing in the forest, nor on earth. His confidence and fortitude weren't derived from physical strength. but from something deeper within him. He made his way downhill, passing in front of the M.A.T. School (Magic Arena Training School), where young sorcerers trained day and night. The path was familiar, and the night air was filled with a calm stillness. As he walked,
he sensed the presence of a young Dezilian approaching him, their steps light yet noticeable to Dazain's keen senses. The sounds of the forest were a symphony of whispers and rustling leaves, adding layers of mystery and intrigue to his journey. The approaching Dezilian added a new dimension to his thoughts,
and he felt a mix of curiosity and anticipation as he continued onward, guided by his unwavering inner strength. As the Dezilian named Rex advanced toward his position, he conjured an Earth Crush spell directed at Dazain, harnessing the formidable and arcane power contained within his Dezilian ring.
However, the powerful incantation unexpectedly rebounded with immense force, resulting in severe and grievous injuries to Rex. This unforeseen and startling turn of events led Dazain to a profound and unsettling realization: the Dezilian possessed extraordinary and otherworldly supernatural abilities. With a sense of urgency and determination, Dazain swiftly made his way to the stricken Rex, who lay in a severely compromised and debilitated state on the ground. Rex's body was contorted with pain, and he writhed in agony as he endured the relentless and overwhelming waves of excruciating suffering.
With a flourish of his hand, Dazain invoked the ancient and potent healing incantation.
'Leo Syngayd,'
channeling its formidable energies to mend Rex's grievous injuries and restore his life force. After an excruciatingly tense span of minutes, during which Rex gradually emerged from the shadows of unconsciousness and laboriously struggled to his feet, he rasped, 'Pray, reveal to me your identity?' Dazain, with an air of profound solemnity, began his introduction:
"I am known as Dazain, the chief priest of the enigmatic Monastery of Myth and Magic. My origins trace back to a time when I was much like you, living a mortal life filled with the same hopes and fears that mark the human condition. However,
my existence was irrevocably altered by the cataclysmic fallout that occurred decades ago, an event so profound it reshaped the very fabric of my being.
In the aftermath of this upheaval, I met my end in the realm of the living. Yet, death was but a transition rather than a conclusion for me. My soul was summoned through a dark and malevolent ritual performed by the spirit of the deceased,
an act steeped in forbidden magic and ancient lore. This unholy rite was designed to defy the natural order, resurrecting me not as a mere mortal but as an immortal and invincible entity.
The transformation was both a gift and a curse. Bound to the realm of the living by the tendrils of necromancy, I became an eternal force, a being unshackled by the frailties of human existence. My immortality, however, is tethered to a singular, fateful condition: my continued existence is inextricably linked to the demise of a Xalian, a mystical figure whose end alone holds the power to release me from this ceaseless cycle of life and death. Until that fateful moment arrives, I am condemned to remain a relentless presence, navigating the corridors of destiny with unyielding resolve. My days are marked by a ceaseless anticipation, waiting for the circumstances that will bring about the end of the Xalian and, consequently, my own liberation from this eternal burden. Thus, I continue to serve the Monastery of Myth and Magic, a keeper of ancient secrets and an enduring witness to the relentless passage of time, bound by the inexorable threads of fate and the dark promises of my own resurrection." "Explain more about the Xalian," Rex said "Xalians are beings with the magical power to turn into avian creatures," Dazain began. "But they are governed by the laws of myth. There are others, like the Dezilians and the Soulkeepers. The Dezilians are powerful spellcasters—enchanters and enchantresses—who, even without their rings, can cast spells of their choosing." Dazain paused for effect, his eyes narrowing. "As for the Soulkeepers, they are the highest authority under the laws of myth. They possess the ability to capture and manipulate minds using their mysterious enchanted metal. The only Dezilian I recognize is a young boy standing before me. There's a light within him, and the fate of the Bravian land rests upon his shoulders. That boy is you." Rex's mind swirled with confusion. "But how can I be under the law of myth? I'm just an ordinary human being—well, a sorcerer protecting the realm, but nothing extraordinary. "Being under the law of myth is a profound supernatural privilege," Dazain said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning. "You may not fully grasp what I'm saying now, but in time, you will understand it far more deeply than you do at this moment." Despite Dazain's reassurances,
Rex remained unsettled. He struggled to make sense of the cryptic information and the implications it held for his life. "Alright, let me go home," Rex said, his voice tinged with frustration. He turned and walked away, the weight of Dazain's words pressing on him as he made his way back to the castle. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the words echoed ominously in his mind. What did it truly mean to be part of the law of myth? The path before him was shrouded in uncertainty, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his world was about to change in ways he could scarcely imagine.