Alistair had always lived a peaceful, ordinary life, or at least, that's how it seemed on the surface. But something felt different about him. A strange sense of power simmered beneath his skin, waiting for the right moment to emerge. He was nothing special in the eyes of the villagers, yet, every time danger approached, an unnatural calm washed over him.
This life of tranquility would not last long, however. The peace was shattered one fateful night when a horde of monsters once again surged from the deep places of the world, coming to ravage and destroy all in their path. Alistair's village was caught in the initial wave of the invasion, chaos unfolding before his eyes.
As terror gripped the hearts of his people, Alistair felt an indescribable pull in the air—something ancient, powerful, and dark. He could sense the immense energies swirling within him, an awakening of the dormant power that he did not yet understand. At first, Alistair hesitated, unsure of what was happening. His body, reacting on its own, surged with energy, and his once-weak hands moved in intricate patterns as ancient words he did not know flowed from his lips.
The fires of magic ignited.
A blast of energy erupted from Alistair's chest, wiping out the horde in seconds, reducing the monsters to ash in an instant. His body—no, the body of Aeltherion—had regained control. The power that surged through him was unmistakable, a divine strength that crushed the invaders. It was then that Alistair felt a foreign but familiar presence within him, something... someone else. The memories of an ageless sorcerer—the very soul of Aeltherion—awoke within him.
Suddenly, he remembered everything.