Prologue
His black velvet cloak trailed behind him as he swept down the long dark hallway. The hallway was made of dark stone – andesite, and was lit at long irregular intervals by torches, causing erratic shadows which brought an eerie feel to the place. The hallway stretched for a long way, with doors placed seemingly randomly along the sides.
At last the man, who was clad in leather armour, reached the end of the hallway, as well as a door. He entered through it and arrived in an almost empty room.
The walls and roof were a smooth, shiny glass-like rock – obsidian. The floor remained andesite and in the center of the room stood a pedestal. On the pedestal lay a book. It was burned in places, torn, and was overall tattered, but it was wrapped in chains and emanated power.
The man seemed to diminish in power, but he drew a deep breath and walked forward, but was flung back when he got close to it. He picked himself up and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He stalked quickly down the hallway to another door. He flung that one open and entered the room.
It was plain andesite with a table against the wall and a chair. In that chair sat a man who was writing feverishly. He was quite small with white hair and a small, fragile posture. His small hands flew over the parchment with a raven feather quill and deep blue ink.
Just as the leather clad man reached him, the white-haired man opened a rift in the air and threw the letter through it. The first man reached out and managed to rip a piece of the parchment off.
“-teach them any advanced ones. They must find them by themselves,” he read, “otherwise they will go their own way. Stay on land. Signed Azyynell. Teach who what?” The man asked in his deep, growl-like voice.
“Runes, Verion. Runes that can counter those in your wretched book.” Azyynell told him boldly.
“And how do you know these runes? And I repeat; who?” Verion asked coldly.
“Those who stand in your way. And I know these runes from my study of magic. I would think you of all people would know that.” Azyynell matched the coldness Verion had given him.
“You worthless ‘good’ magician! I hired you to teach me how to get to the book! Not spy on me and help my enemies!” Verion said venomously.
“And I just have.” Azyynell pulled out a knife, “But I wont be here to see it.” and he plunged the knife into his own heart. But Verion was already gone, taking the chains off the book.
