On touching the tear, your stomach lurches as pain shoots up through your foot, racing through your spine and reverberating in your skull. Your gaze remains glued as your vision focuses and unfocuses. Shapes begin to form in the corners of your vision as the room changes shape.
The first thing you see is a wall of stone brick. It's still quite blurry, because it appears to you as if small brown worms are crawling down the bricks, zigging and zagging along. But as your eyes begin to adjust, and the image in front of you sharpens, you realize those worms are streaks of blood, flooding each crack and crevice in the stone.
A loud chuckle then booms from the far end of the room. You feel your gaze being lurched to the other side of the room.
A hulkish figure lounges on a throne. He is dressed in an impressive suit of black plate armor, distinctly battle worn, as evidenced by its jagged edges. Beady yellow eyes glow from underneath his helm, and four stained tusks frame his crooked smile. He reeks of dried blood and decayed flesh.
His eyes are glued to a portal floating in front of him. Peering in, you see snowy fields stained with blood, as a battle rages between elves and goliaths.
His hand twists a dial on the armrest of his throne. The image in the portal changes as both armies spot rocks beginning to tumble down a mountain. The rocks scatter and dislodge snow and ice, quickly forming an avalanche.
At first, the armies begin to run. He then twists the dial slightly the other way, and the elves turn around, fighting the goliaths once more as the avalanche draws closer.
As he laughs, you hear the thunking of... something. Your eyes fall to his waist, where several shining dragon heads hang from his belt: gold, silver, copper, brass, repeat. Their flesh and scales are still attached in some places.
With a flash of multicolored light, a woman appears in the middle of the room. Her skin is ghastly white, and she is dressed in a long, flowing black gown.
Immediately, the man twists the dial, and the portal-image disappears. He stands and kneels.
“My Queen.”
She holds up a thin hand, and he takes his seat once more.
“The preparations are complete. I am ready to go on your command.”
“Excellent.” The woman approaches the throne. “Once the portals are opened, we will commence our attack.”
“If I were not bound by the walls of this realm, I would be at your side.”
She steps up the platform and places a hand on his cheek. “You will be freed soon enough. You will use much of your power already. I cannot ask for more.”
He grabs her hand off his face, gripping it tightly. “Do you doubt my strength?”
She pulls away, and walks towards the left side of the room, gazing out the windows which display a desolate landscape set against bloody red skies.
“Perhaps, there is something else you can do. There is One who is destined to take my power away from me. I need one of your soldiers to hunt them down.”
The man chuckles. “I know just the one.”
“Saevus?”
“No, no. Your task requires someone with patience, and… less ego.”
He twists the dials again, and the back doors swing open. A tall elven man walks into the room, fair skinned, a sharp chin, green eyes, and long, straight black hair tied into a half bun. His armor is different from the other soldiers, more sleek and agile. A steel pendant hangs from his neck, shaped like a dagger piercing through a feather. He walks to the center of the room and kneels before the woman.
She faces him, placing a hand on his head, chanting words in a language you cannot understand. Magic travels down her arm and dances across his form. He keeps still, not even wincing, despite the pain. “You will be but a shell of your former self. You will have no memory of who you once were. You will have a fraction of your former power.”
The magic intensifies as a portal above vast seas and continents opens beneath the elf. The elf’s arms seem to buckle, shaking to remain kneeled.
“Only once you lay eyes on the One will you know whom you must kill. Roam the many lands of Issylra to find them. Walk, and walk, and walk, day and night. Do not rest until your mission is complete.”
“The fate of this Incursion rests in your hands, Venenatis.”
As Venenatis sinks into the portal, a flash of violet light emerges. The woman’s eyes widen, and she rushes to cast a spell, while the armored man dashes forward.
The vision ends, and you are brought back to the empty throne room of the present.
Comments