The Marvel of Underworlds

Prologue: Uncoverings

The morning sun poured through the windowpanes, illuminating the ancient scrolls sprawled across the desk. Volumes of history and magic filled the shelved walls embellished with thousands of artifacts. The ceiling was built with gold encrusted arches traveling along the skyline. The wall to the left housed the Ankariian royal family crest.

The renowned palace wizard, Sylvain Legrand, was examining chemistry books in his study that day. However, these books were not ordinary science books, but rather bindings of scrolls, filled with writings of old Elvish mages. Potion recipes dated back thousands of years, far before the beginnings of the Ankariian Empire.

This specific scroll was dusty and worn, with several tears interrupting the cursive lines of text. Sylvain furrowed his brow as he traced his finger along the writings. These writings were not only an ancient form of Elvish but contained information so advanced that it would be difficult for a mere wizard to understand.

"This spell... Such a specimen is impossible..." The palace wizard frantically scribbled notes on a spare piece of parchment as he tried to comprehend the writings, scrunching his nose upon reading each line.

"These components," Sylvain quickly jumped over to the bookshelf where old notes were bound into packages, "I've seen them somewhere before." He picked up one of the journals labeled Aw----d---'s Re---rch. The white text was severely damaged and distressed, as what happens to books over a long period of time.

Before the wizard could uncover the notes, a strange stench filled the room. He wrinkled his nose, but only passed it off as nothing. But the odor grew horrible as it slowly burned his nostrils. Before Sylvain could bear to investigate, a foreboding creak interrupted the silence of the study.

"The palace study is off limits," Sylvain said to the door, not even caring to turn his head.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Sylvain slowly turned his head around. There in front of him was a palace servant. However, it wasn't. The servant carried an uneasy aura. Its movements were limped and uncanny. The servant's body seemed to be completely separated from its mind.

The wizard's eyes widened at this sigh. His gaze immediately darted towards the servant's hand. There, in his fist, was a knife. The once welcoming morning light reflected off the blade, striking fear in him. He backed away as far as he could, but the desk was in his way. The servant crept closer.

Sylvain tried to summon some magic or call for help, but the fear overcoming him blocked any and all magical remnants inside of him. The man was specialized in potions, not in battle. The servant crept even closer, holding the knife up to Sylvain's chest.

The blade entered, knocking the wind out of Sylvain's lungs. He gasped for air, the light of the sunrise disappearing by the second. But before the lights went out, Sylvain could make out a faint whisper. A very faint whisper.

"Thank you for the notes. My master intends on using them meticulously."

And with that the servant fell to the floor, joining Sylvain in death. The servant turned to fog and collected together to form an entity of darkness.