A young warlock was traveling the Kingdom’s southern roads under the light of a full moon, when he noticed the air had turned rank with the smell of rotting flesh. In the distance, he could see the glow of fire and made haste to the nearest town... too late, he found only death and dismay.
Walking the eerily quiet streets of the town, he heard a whisper... a whisper of a voice speaking in fae’len. He turned a corner around a burning hut and in the distance saw a tall lanky creature, almost human, holding the hand of a small girl. The warlock had heard tales of the fae but had never encountered one, wondering if that’s what stood before him now. Before he could get any closer, they were gone, having disappeared through a portal.
On the ground where the portal had been was a leather-bound book with golden threads. It called to the warlock, as if a soft voice on the wind beckoned him nearer. He inched closer, cocking his head as if trying to hear it better. His body began to shake with every step he took, the wind began to howl, and the words suddenly thundered in his ears...
“Release me, and I shall grant you the unimaginable power of the dark lords.”
The warlock picked up the book and ran his fingers down its spine. Trees danced and swayed as the wind whipped and churned around him. By the light of the moon, he read its inscription...
“ath Tel' Ivae Ath Tel' nodel sal khaor bren vaarnl”
By the light of the full moon I banish this evil.
The warlock’s heart was pounding, his hands trembling, as he opened the book. But to his surprise the paper was blank. As he began to turn the page, words began to appear like fire. The warlock hesitated, but the booming voice urged him “Read, warlock...” Before he could bring the words into focus, he felt the prick of a sword point at his neck. The King’s army had arrived, too late to save the village.
Upon recognizing the robes, the head guard warned his men if the warlock were allowed to speak, they would all suffer the same fate as the villagers. And so the guards bound and gagged the warlock, strapped him unceremoniously to a horse, and took him to their king to decide his fate. The king, also fearing the warlock’s power, ordered him taken to the deepest dungeon and had the mystical book taken to the royal library and locked them both away. And in the dungeon the warlock sat, bound and gagged, waiting. Waiting for his freedom. Waiting for his chance to escape, and seek revenge on the land which had locked him away. And all the while, he thought of the book, as it called to him in the darkness...