The Chronicles Of Echos

Alaric Stormweaver, the greatest magus trudged the lands. His scholar robes flattering with the winds that were gnawing across the lands— His azure-blue eyes peered at the dilapidated ruins in the distance. A smile graced his lips, he made it. After a tedious journey through Eldoria he made it to the ruins that scholars talked about; the origin of arcane arts he had devoted his life to.

Alaric walked into the ruins, his hands fondled the writings on the walls, careful not to cause the structures to fall. He could discern the emanating Aetherium deep within the ruins. The runes were navigation tools to his destination.

He descended the stairs leading deeper into the ruins, each corridor he passed he took note of the different runes carved there. Each Rune represented a fragment of a forgotten history. Alaric came to a stop in front of a doorway, the emanating Aetherium soothing him, the particles of the mystic energy connecting the world together wrapping around him warming him up.

He entered the room and gasped. His eyes opened up—He was not in the ruins. The place he was in, was full of life. Greenery on the sides, the chime of water crushing down caught Alaric's attention. He directed his gaze to the right and he saw the most sparkling water he had ever seen. Purified from any contamination, clear as the azure-blue sky of summer day.

In the pivot, was a rostrum with weathered tomes atop of it. Alaric approached the tomes and placed a hand on them. Images flooded into his mind, causing him to let go. His chest pounding, his heart rate having increased momentarily. In his life of being a magus, he had seen things that would frighten even the hardest of veterans yet what he saw from laying a hand on the tomes, was more horrifying.

His desire to learn got the better of him yet again, Alaric reached for the tomes and opened them, the runes written on the pages rearranging themselves and the knowledge about the world they lived in, rushed into his mind.

.

From beneath the tomes, a dark aura oozed onto the ground and a Crack formed from beneath the rostrum which Alaric failed to notice.

Alaric took his hand away, the knowledge of the arcane arts and the world in his mind—his perception of the world they lived in, changed by the revelation he had bore witnessed. “Time to return” He mused and made his way out of the room and into the ruins.

He walked out of the underground ruins without any worry, however, when he got to the surface a dark aura washed over him. The winds that were mildly heavy increased in intensity, their maws shred the trees from the ground, pushed some of the external ruins to the ground, kicking up a dust storm forcing Alaric to close his eyes, shielding them from the dust.

Alaric opened his eyes after a few seconds, and he stared at the sky with wide eyes. There were no clouds visible—As far as he could see, it was pitch black almost as if nightfall had arrived. His eyes roamed the ruins and in the distance he could make out a faint noise.

His eyes widened, the darkness approaching was consuming everything in its path. Alaric came to the conclusion, that the darkness or whatever it was, was a problem and from the knowledge he had from the history gained from the tomes— mages of ancients faced the exact thing and failed.

He raised his hand and his cane slid from under the arm sleeve of his baggy robed. He curled his fingers around the bird carving of the wand and struck the stone floor with the base of the cane. “Light!” An aura of light expanded around him creating a field that spread the darkness that had already covered him and the ruins.

Alaric gritted his teeth, his left hand was gone. In its stead, was the stamp that was his hand covered in darkness.

“You are a strong one,” A voice penetrated through the darkness as the abundance of darkness and shadows took a form of a silhouette with a bright grin.

“Who are you?” Alaric glared at the silhouette, in his mind he was trying to figure out what that thing was and why it was attacking him.

“You can call me Aetherium, God, the hand of God, he who sends the world in darkness. I don't really care, I'm just glad that you had given me this much freedom. Freedom to reign over this world again!”

Rule the world? What the silhouette said made no sense— The multiple aliases were confusing. He knew that mages could attain strength close to a demi-god. That's what they knew, demi-gods forged their world and gave them the ability to harness Aetherium. The concept of someone being stronger than the demi-gods

The silhouette disappeared into the darkness, and tendrils in the shape of fangs lashed out from around Alaric. They bit onto the barrier sinking their fangs deeps into the sphere causing cracks to form on it.

Alaric channel led the Aetherium in his body to his wand. The air around him became warm, from around him. Starting at his feet and travelling up his whole body, feeding on the oxygen in his proximity flames roared to life burning away the tendrils that had crushed his barrier encroaching on him— Alaric was not done, showing his proficiency in elemental magic. Water washed from the base of his cane and rose up bringing him along allowing Alaric to escape the suffocating darkness below him.

The silhouette formed yet again, this time clapping its hands at the meticulous plotting Alaric had. His innovative thinking bought him some time but he was going to perish just like everything else. “It doesn't matter, you are going to perish.”

Alaric heard the silhouette from his altitude— the darkness was overwhelmingly strong, his light affinity magic couldn't push it away. It was as if it was alive, devouring everything in its path. A pang crossed his heart, Alaric looked at his right hand in sadness, it was because of him that this force was released.

All because of his pursuit for knowledge.

Knowledge that did not help him one bit.

He scoffed; it was too late to turn back now. Chronomancy was an art none could use, a rare affinity for magic and unfortunately he couldn't use it. That led him on his journey, the journey that brought forth this disaster.

The silhouette watched him from the ground, it yawned in boredom. The magus was not doing anything worth its time. It snapped its fingers and the darkness whirled around catching Alaric's attention. The darkness— continued to swirl around the silhouette and it took a shape.

Spikes formed on what Alaric presumed was the spine of something, wings attached to the spine as darkness formed muscles, veins and scales. Two blood red eyes peered through the darkness and a maw bright as hell fire opened and a guttural roar escaped the darkness as the beast in shadows and darkness took flight.

Alaric glared at the dragon made from darkness, his lips slightly parted from the shock of seeing a mythical creature from the tomes on its glory. Just as the knowledge, he accumulated stated, eyes red as pools of blood, nostrils that emanated smoke like a forgesmith forge, a mouth as fiery as the depths of hell cladded in darkness. A beast— of unimaginable strength, it was before him.

Alaric chuckled, the silhouette was strong, befitting of its self given name of God. He adjusted his cane a bit, the handle placed higher as his hand curled around the middle of the wand. The bird handle oozed Aetherium as Alaric gave it form. Several magic circles appeared above him, he looked at the dragon and grinned.

“I'm not afraid, shocked yes but afraid no. I know I won't be able to stop you Shadow, but someone else will.” Alaric declared as hot flames emerged from the runes above them forcing the runes to expand to accommodate the spell coming through.

The dragon roared and flapped its wings as from within its body, at the depths of its belly. Flames obsidian in pigment traveled up its throat and burned out of its mouth as they were ejected toward Alaric, whose spell had just finished exiting the magical runes.

The two attacks collided in the midpoint and the winds warped around them, gathering everything in its proximity to the fire phenomenon in the center forming a sphere of light. The sphere exploded, it's radius swallowing Alaric and the dragon in it.

*

Alaric floated in the void of white. He couldn't feel his body, his eyes couldn't blink. His throat was dry and he could not produce saliva to keep it from drying— he sighed. “I guess I'm dead.”

“Not quite yet.”

Alaric looked to his side and saw a silhouette made from light. He groaned— he had to deal with another one of these silhouettes again? It was getting annoying. The last one he dealt with, ended up killing him and overlapping the world in darkness. What this one was going to do?

“If I'm not dead, why am I here instead of the afterlife?”

The silhouette chuckled. His question was precise and to the point. Chit chat was thrown out of the window it seemed. “You'll see, for now it's not your time magus Alaric.”

Alaric was about to open his mouth to question what the silhouette meant when the light blinded him and his vision went dark.