[img]http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/183/a/d/g_u_n_m_e_t_a_l_v_o_l_c_a_n_o_by_6syker6-d6bqgrl.jpg[/img] [u][b]Soraro Mountains, North Dominion[/b][/u] [b]Present Day[/b] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [i]“Ah, so this is what it feels like then.” -Final words of the Divine King[/i] Two years of walking the treacherous and cold paths of these mountains, two years of making a companion of silence alone, but Jucan had finally arrived. Before him flanked on all sides by snow capped and impassive giants stood solitary and raging mount Garsavus rising from the black stone and molten sea. Streams of liquified rock flowed from the summit where a fantastic display of sulphurous blue fire whipped about in the wind like some ancient reptile. Making his way forward on a narrow strip of volcanic rock with every breath drawing only burningly acrid air Jucan knew what he had sought for so long was close. Ahead was a monolithic black gate set deep into the mountain base. With every step the construction grew larger still and by the time Jucan had arrived it towered higher than any building he had seen. What great fear must the ancients have had to craft such gates and take such measures. How telling that even with that knowledge he was here, times had grown dark indeed. The black ground below held subtle grooves that painted an intricate pattern of circles and lines ending in a final depressed semi circle the size of a bowl set mere feet from the doors seam. He drew an ancient flint knife and with a grimace cut a scarlet line across his hand. Holding it over the depression he let the blood fall into the bowl and fill the grooves. Jucan alone held the power to open this ancient gate, to cast this horrid spell. His ancestors had done all they could to chain what lay within and he undid their work in moments, such was the power of the first kings blood. A sinister red glow came from the gate as the blood finished its job and the spell did its work. The ground seemed to rumble as invisible barriers set long ago by archaic gods broke. The rumbling grew and a terrible shrieking seemed to come from every direction at once, though Jucan knew the source was his own mind. After gruelling minutes the spell reached its end and with a blast of hot air and a horrible scraping the great gates opened, revealing their unprecedented thickness and the fear their architects had held. At first there was only a foreboding darkness beyond but with a flick of his hand blood fell across the inner floor and within great and high mounted lanterns came alight. With a quick bandage Jucan sealed the wound and made his way in. The lanterns red light revealed a single vast square chamber with a pyramid of stairs leading up to a darkly iridescent crystal the size of a man making a deceptively ornate centre piece. The odd reflections of colour contrasted with dreary nature of the room, it was such a beautiful thing to hold such an unimaginable horror. Regardless he forged ahead and with each step he ascended on the pyramid he seemed to feel heavier. Was it some ancient magic? Or was it merely the guilt of what he was to do, he had not the answer to that. Reaching the apex of the pyramid he came to look directly into the dark crystal. Deeper than the iridescent reflections he saw something ancient and disquieting, it had been waiting for him. Jucan reached deep within his robe and withdrew the great hammer of Arvadul, the chain binder who had crafted this prison. He hefted it high and as it sailed toward the crystal whatever being existed there seemed to smile. [i]Crash[/i], a million pale pieces of quartz blew across the hall, some cutting Jucans face. What remained was the darkness. Whatever it was it seemed to speak to him without words, projecting the thoughts into his own mind and speaking softly, “Your line has finally come to free me, tell me descendant of Yerhan, how many years has that taken?” He tucked the large hammer away once more and spoke aloud, “Near two millenniums have passed.” For a moment the darkness seemed to waver, whether struck by the news or merely considering its implications he did not know, regardless the same soft voice continued in his head, “So very long... What could have motivated you to free me, I wonder? What horror is so terrible you sully the work of countless generations?” Jucan felt the shame of the comment, but he did not show it. Now was not the time for weakness. Resolute he stated, “A darkness has come over the land. It has infected the dreams of men and driven them to evil, every day it grows and threatens to consume man and god alike. To the horrors I have seen in its wake you hold no candle.” It seemed to consider that for a time and once more his head spoke foreign thoughts, “So what would you do to stop this darkness? What would you have [i]me[/i] do?” In truth he was not sure, but he still spoke out, “I, you, would stop it. No matter the cost and no matter the lives that must be sacrificed.” The voice in his head chuckled, then it merely stated, “Even if the cost was yourself?” “Yes.” Jucan knew what was coming. The darkness rushed him, and then he felt it, gripping every part of his mind and boring into his memories like some insidious insect. It was over in a moment and Jucan felt it, in every vessel and every nerve, something unimaginable lurking just beneath his skin. It spoke to him again, but this time the voice was not soft, it was harsh and commanding, “The pact is made. Cherish what freedom I give you and remember that you were the one who traded it away. Now, we leave this wretched place.” He didn't question, he knew he would have been able to stop it anyway. A simple turn and he was descending the pyramid. What came next would be horrible, but he knew the price was small if the horror he harboured in his own flesh was still capable of what it had accomplished all those years ago. Yes, the Great Warlord, progenitor of his clan and founder of the Dominion, had made a deal much like this. The empire that resulted still stood. Jucan had learned all the secrets from that time, how the massacre of the Jonites was the price the spirit had demanded then, how it had fed off the deaths in every battle from that point on. How many souls had it consumed? Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the screaming and knew the answer. In response to his thoughts the beast within him commented, “Yes, but they are only what I saved. Soon they will be a choir beyond counting and once more the singing can start.” Jucan almost wished he hadn't decided on this path, but a mere memory of his childhood and the doubts were gone. No matter the horrors he wrought and no matter the humanity he surrendered the mere fact was that he might have a role in ending the plague now, that was enough. A man had entered the tomb, a monster had emerged from it. It was everything he had hoped for.