The Dawncaster Chronicles [Mages, Arcane University], Have you ever thought about taking the dark and thorny path? Options

[Illydoor]

This is my first story that I've posted on the forums, it's not finished, so I'll probably be posting updates a bit sporadically throughout the year. It entails the story of young apprentice mage at the Arcane University, thrown into a world of mystery, murder and threat as the past returns and he is plunged headlong into it. I hope you like it...

~DAWNCASTER~

Prologue

Have you ever considered taking the dark and thorny path?

The voice was so sultry and alluring it made Magnus retch. Mysteriously dark, ominously sinister, like liquid poison running through his ears. The rich sound echoed off the thin walls of his house and filled the room with a soft, reverberating boom. Magnus shuddered.

It chuckled.

I know your type, boy, I know it well, but in a thousand years of painful existence I've never seen someone with so much…potential, as you.

Magnus did not dignify the compliment with a response. He was way past speaking, or even breathing for that matter. Abject fear had rendered him beyond speech or any comprehension at all of what was happening. He was utterly paralysed.

The thing chuckled malevolently again, a deep, sonorous rumble. It sensed his fear.

Speak! Only the foolish would summon me to their whim and not have the bravery to command me!

The voice rose suddenly and thunderously in volume, shaking the floor as if each syllable had the power to crush worlds at mere expression. The words echoed inside Magnus' head long after the monster had finished speaking, chilling him to the very core as icy trepidation laced the pit of stomach and his blood ran hot under his veins.

A low chuckling sounded once again.

I can feel your fear boy, your anxiety. It warms my essence, feeds my soul. Yet I can feel your power. I foresee great things for you, boy, great things.

Magnus remained silent, staring hard at the wooden floor beneath him and sweating feverishly.

Hmph. You have summoned me, and in return for the sacrifice of your soul, I shall see your ascension to greatness and immortality, if you should so accept my divine guidance. What say you, boy?

Finally, Magnus, roused from his terrified stupor, managed to stammer a few words out.

"Th-thank you, m-my master..." Magnus winced slightly as he noticed with great discomfort how weak his voice sounded, how insignificant it was compared to that of the monster.

The thing grunted, as if sizing him up. For a moment silence gripped the room, choking and stifling.

Hmm. Yes, indeed, you will do well. Come, young Magnus Dawncaster, I have much to teach you…

***

She was miles away, but the flames were still there. The pain still lingered like a terrible after-image, haunting and chilling, flashing every time on the backs of her eyelids whenever she closed them. She wished them away in frantic desperation, but the insatiable blood-thirst of the red flames couldn't be quenched, couldn't be stopped.

They burned brightly, burnishing the night-sky a tarnished red.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not shut them out. Their fiery gaze burned through anything, destroying, ruining, killing.

And still they burned. Never to cease, visions of fire and destruction, of vivid redness and anger. Elsa watched her world burn in her eyes over and over again. An eternal nightmare she could not wake from.

Hot tears stung her eyes as she ran, the dancing embers hot on her heels, their heat prickling and their roar terrifying, cackling and howling with malicious glee.

Pain engulfed her, clouding her mind with agony. She had no strength to scream, every iota of her energy spent entirely on just keeping awake. Yet she couldn't stop running. The flames chased her.

Branches and leaves whipped her face, but she ignored their sting. Roots and stray logs threatened to trip her, but she persevered, scrabbling quickly to her feet when she fell, a new, fresh gash on her person whenever she got up again.

All the while, the incessant burning continued in her ears. If only she could get away, escape, just anywhere where the flames could not reach her and her precious, precious cargo. In her heart she knew there was nowhere, the illusory flames that cursed her mind would stay with her to the abyss and back. They would burn in the darkness, in her dreams and sleep, they would smoulder on until death took her, and even then they would follow in her the afterlife, haunting her spirit.

She kept running, and fatigue dragged at her like an iron weight strapped to her soul, though she had lost the feeling in her wearisome legs a long time ago. She knew she couldn't keep it up forever, and already she felt her pace slowing, her feet falling heavily and stumbling amongst the dark undergrowth. She could tell she was at the end of her limits, her strength drained and her willpower spent. She knew soon she would fall, and the flames would catch up with her, devouring her in a swirling inferno of suffering and agony.

She ignored the icy pain that clawed at her consciousness and pressed on, finally breaking through the shadowy woods, forcing herself onwards on sheer determination alone.

She was nearly there. So close to being liberated from her haunted life, freedom from the ravenous flames at last. She only had to make it.

Through the writhing and hissing flames that consumed her mind's eye, the Arch-Mage's Tower loomed in to view. Its steep grey walls promised salvation and release from the pain.

Deep within the dark fire that raged inside her, a shadow of hope flickered, and with renewed vigour she fought away the flames for one last time, stumbling through the giant iron gates and scrabbling helplessly at the door.

Blackness began to seep into the corners of her eyes, and the flames began to deaden. Her breath slowed, and everything went into a time lapse, her movements sluggish and her vision blurred like a misty window.

She fought it, struggling to keep the flicker of hope in sight. She knew she was living on borrowed time. Any second now, death would take her, siezing her in it's inescapable grasp.

Through bleary eyes she saw the heavy wooden door creep open, and the Arch-Mage stood there, silhouetted in the yellow light that spilled from the open gap. Not able to keep herself up any longer, she slumped to the floor with a cry of supressed relief. The Arch-Mage ran to her immediately, holding her head in his hands and uttering inaudible words.

Darkness. It was beginning to consume her, her gaze narrowing as death prepared to embrace her, to finally make the flames stop. She beckoned the release.

With her last dying breath, she pushed something into the Arch-Mage's arms and whispered a final word before her world was plunged into blackness.

"Nathaniel..."

As he watched the life seep out of Elsa's eyes and her motionless body settle against the cold stone floor, Arch-Mage Honorius Greymane stood frozen in shock and grief, and in his hands a newborn baby began to cry.

This post has been edited by Illydoor: Apr 25 2009, 08:50 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

First paragraph seemed fine to me, not to wordy at all. And Miss Harpfeather seems an excellent character too.

This may just be me being dense, but Honorius seems perfectly pleasant towards Nathaniel. In fact he doesn't seem to hate him at all.

And for some reason I imaginf him to look just like Elder Lyons from Fallout 3.