Everything warped around me as I flew upwards. What was it? 500 years of torture? And yet this single moment of transportation was exceedingly excruciating than all those years combined.
It was like my very essence was being crushed and remolded as I flew towards the white spot. The darkness around me was tangible. It pressed me with bone-breaking force as if to stop my momentum. And perhaps it would have succeeded, that is if I had any bones to break.
Even still, no soul could make it as far and high as I had and it was, by nature, impossible for a single soul to enter into the light; that white spot far above me. But I aimed for the bright light and flew towards it because I was not a 'single soul'. What was I? Let me tell you a tale.
***
I was a wizard while I was yet on earth. My existence was distinguished by dominion and terror. But it wasn't always that way. Fate seemed to have favored me after its harsh punishment of my youth.
Before I wielded magic, I was but a fragile son of the highest nobles. That was of course in the era of knights and dragons. And I too dreamt the dreams of my parents; to become a knight. Because knights weren't just the elite few that flanked the king, they were the lords of the land and the gods over the peasants. The very thought had me grinning throughout childhood. Alas, the cruelty of fate became evident to me when I signed up to be an esquire. It was part of the journey to knighthood.
However, being a knight's attendant posed a challenge for me. I cannot begin to explain my many, many shortcomings. The greatest of all I believe, was the saddening fact that every piece of equipment was at least twice my weight! From the shield to the helmet and everything in between.
It was truly depressing. How could pure noble blood yield such a pale, feeble body? My father called me accursed. Part of the reason why was because the rumors about my mother engaging in extramarital affairs finally reached him. It wasn't long after he heard about it that he labeled me as an abomination and, with only his suspicion to lean on, he drove me away from the manor.
That is why I was a full-time esquire, residing under my Knight's roof. Howbeit that was also when the tides began to turn.
A few moons of insults and abuse sent me sprinting off into the woods in the thick of night; trying to make sense of the meaning of my existence. But some distance inside, I suddenly fell into a deep dark pit. From then on I can vaguely recall what happened.
But I remember somethings... I remember a strange book with a purple glow. I remember hearing voices, though what they spoke was shrouded. I remember feeling a rush of power coursing through me. I remember flying out of that hole. I also remember my former master on his knees pleading like a beggar for his pathetic life.
How did I kill him? Oh, I remember that very clearly. I ripped him in half without even laying a finger on him. It took only a few magic speeches from that mysterious book that had begun to follow me in mid-air. Its power was sublime; greatly transformational. With every breath I took I felt more energized, more exhilarated, more alive. Little did I know that I was still as far from invincible as the north was from the south.
Nevertheless, I picked up the lance of the fallen and induced it with dark magic.
Knighthood was no longer appealing to me. No, not after what I had suffered in the hands of my former master. You see, I now had a reformed goal, to purge the world of the illusion of chivalry and give it new knights. My knights.With another round of spells, I put together the limbs of my former master and resurrected him.
His once silvery armor became black as coal and a dark aura emitted from him. He was now a dark spirit who lived by my power and was bound to my every command. He was perfect and the first of many.
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HOUR OF POWER
General FictionCool brief stuff! Makes for awesome pass time. {Ps Fantasy and SciFi included}