Magician's Bloodline

Prologue

The first stars were showing when he arrived to his destination. Slowly he opened his eyes and focused his mind. He was old, the magical travel took a toll on his fragile health. His body could be weak but his mind was not and, if he succeeded, not even Death could claim him.

His thoughts now clear, he looked up to the massive portal that stood in front of him. Here it was, the first of the trials the gods have placed to stop the ambitious humans who had always sought the way to conquer their fate. Many had tried to pass these gates but all had failed. He had spent decades researching old myths and false rumors, but it was all in vain. No one had ever found a way to open the golden portal. No one had ever reached the secrets that stood within.

Tightening his grip on his staff, the black robed magician gave a first, cautious step then another. He had expected deathly traps, magical barriers or horrible creatures of the Darkness to attack him but nothing happened. He stopped just outside the gates and extended an arm. Carefully, but without hesitation he pressed against them. The portal stood there imperturbable. His arm dropped to his side.

The old scriptures related how only those blessed by the gods could open the gates. There was not doubt about it: the only gift granted by the deities had been magic, so a magic wielder could be the only one to pass this trial. He smiled at his foolishness. Old age was certainly a terrible fate for mankind, making them weak and forgetful. He straightened himself and closed his eyes, then hit the ground with the staff. But nothing happened.

His patience was running short. He didn't have much time left and he certainly didn't want to die here. Gathering all his might, he braced the magical rod and deployed all his magic against the gates. Sparks filled the air around both sorcerer and portal, surrounding them with a blazing light. When everything calmed, only a few charred black bars remained in place, the portal gone. Satisfied, the wizard crossed it and entered the darkness.

He didn't have to walk for long. The darkness that engulfed him suddenly vanished revealing an immense circular hall. He was standing in the center of an altar. The walls were covered with statues representing all kind of creatures: humans, dragons, elves, dwarfs, albors... The wizard felt a presence just above him. Rising his staff he waited for the attack he knew would soon come. And he was not mistaken. A lighting stroke his quickly raised barrier forcing him to kneel in the stone ground. A winged shadow circled the altar, ready to finish his prey.

“Fool!” thought the old man. “I am not your average magician, Guardian”.

He recited the words of a powerful spell. The Guardian, realizing the danger dodged the blue sphere that had surged from the caster's hands. Dozens of statues shattered into pieces. The creature landed in front of the magician. It was a strange creature, transparent, he could clearly see the opposite wall across it. His head was one of a dragon, his body of a human and his wings of an harpy.

“Thou shalt not pass, mortal”, said the Guardian. “You soul will nourish my masters, whilst your petrified body remains in this hall till the End of Time”.

The magician started to laugh. “But if I am not mistaken, you are the reaper, Guardian. The Gods cannot use my soul if you do not take it from me. And I will not let you have it”. Quickly he gathered his remaining power knowing that after that nothing would stop the creature from destroying him.

The Guardian jumped over the magician trying to disrupt his concentration. His hand changed to a deathly claw which sank into his chest, crushing his heart. He then took a step back waiting for the corpse to collapse but it never happened. The creature stared in disbelief as the lifeless body pronounced the last words of the spell and pointed a long finger at him. And then... everything went dark.

A white light rose from the stone body of the sorcerer. It took the form of a young handsome man. Blond, with red eyes like sapphires, the figure looked down at his old body. It had turned to stone. A cry of triumph echoed through the hall. When the sound vanished four figures appeared around the man. They were three men and a woman. All looked powerful, all were immortal. They were Gods.

“You have failed in your mission, magician”, said the beautiful woman. “You have died in the Hall of Lost Souls. You cannot reach immortality, nor can your soul go back to the Power without whom we all are nothing”.

“I did not intend to pass the trials”, said the white soul. “A mortal cannot lie to you. I cannot lie to you. Seek the truth, but do not fight fate, for that is forbidden by the Power.”

The four Gods remained silent, all searching in the deepest corners of the wizard's soul the real reason of his  actions. All gasped when they discovered it.

“Yes, I have come here to die. But not without passing my essence to a descendant”, the white light brightened. “I have ensured that someone will come, centuries from now, to destroy you. For I know you are not allowed to extinguish the bloodline of a magic wielder. And I have ensured he will be powerful enough to defeat you.”

The God at his right spoke, “Magic weakens as each generation passes, mortal”, his voice was deep, full with cold fury. “You have understated the limitations of your kind”.

“My blood is special. Only a child will be conceived when the mother is a sorceress. Sons will be mightier than his parents and grandparents. And someday, a wizard will stand against you. When that day comes you shall pay for your crimes! And you cannot stop it or you will cease to exist, for you cannot interfere with the Balance of the world”.

The four Gods laughed. “We have been interfering with the Balance to suit our needs for a long time. The Power can do nothing to us, for we have caged it, we have tamed it and it will never govern Clath-Erenth again”.

A tremor shook the hall. The woman looked at his fellow Gods. “Enough chatter. We have matters to attend to. You have killed the Guardian, without it no more souls can be reaped. But that can be arranged. You can replace it. So, when your descendant comes, you shall take his soul and offer it to your masters!”

The Gods begun the ritual. One by one they surrounded themselves by dark auras. Then they began to intone a song. They auras began to expand, fused among themselves, engulfing the white soul which stood there, powerless, awaiting the doom that was to come.

Suddenly, a loud noise filled the hall. The Gods stopped the ritual, they looked worried. A tall man stood a few paces from the altar. It was different from everything the magician had seen, and yet he looked extremely familiar. He could see the whole figure. However, by some reason, he could not discern the details.

“Caged me? Tamed me?”, cried the man. “You are nothing more than my creations and you dare turn against me?”

“You are...” begun the magician.

“Do not say it aloud”, warned him one of the Gods. They had all turned their attention the newcomer, preparing themselves to imprison him again. They were going to do it when the sorcerer's soul attacked them.

“Run!”, cried. “You can help him!”

The man ran across the hall, reached a wall and vanished. The Gods cried. Their wrath incontrollable. “Destroy me, but remember that your secret will not die with me. The Power has been freed. He will come. You... you are finished”.