Library: the Book of the Ancient Kings

From the Book of the Ancient Kings, only survived chapter (IV) Creation of new God; Shift of power In a Time which is no Time I this write. In a Space which is no Space I this write. I am Ingis, the first prophet and the bearer of the Word. It has been left to my final duty to record this little there is to be recorded, to store this knowledge for the mankind and all the living creatures upon this earth... teaching a lesson never to hunger for total power, never to seek the ultimate truth... as there is none, and would there be one, it will destroy all what you have achieved and all that your family has written to the books of History. It will destroy entire civilizations and empires, no matter how healthy, aspiring or powerful they are. Remember, every power has it's opposer, and when kept hidden, it will grow far more powerful than it's holder. The more power is stored in this way, the more it will damage the Balance and the existence. Why am I here, no one knows. But my time will be the Eternity and my world will be that of nothing. A fate I wish no one else to have. The Grey is a color where one can see a glimpse of what used to be, Black is where there is absolutely nothing. Not a single breath or whisper, not a single beam of light reminding of powers that initially created everything. Time and loneliness is all that persists, to torment any soul that has been prisoned there. Be it a whim of luck or the ultimate punishemnt, I don't know... I am beyond the Black. And here I this write. --- As the morning light sparkled on the dew of mountains flowers, a lone figure climbed towards the top of the Mountain of the Ancients. The day seemed to get hot, sun was hungrily climbing towards the zenith, casting it's rays to all the living things on the face of this earth. The figure stood there, silently observing the environment, grasping a huge wooden staff like if his life depended of it. Soon it would be time. Long had he explored the vast wildernes, long had been his travels across the open plains of Kar Thagoth, and now he was closer to his destiny. Closer than anyone since the fall of the Thagoth empire. His name was Lars, he was the chosen one after finding the Staff of the Ancients. His destiny would nevertheless change the history of this land, bringing hope to all the races now fighting over their existence. Grasping for his breath, he continued onward, feeling the presence of EVIL in every cell of his body. He was close. Closer than anyone since the the fall of mightiest of all empires man has ever created, the Thagoth. It was the age of peace and harmony, where all the races known to man lived without sorrow and pain, without wars and without hatred. So powerful was the magic of Thagoth that it's existence is still unknown the wisest of the mages and oldest of the sages. But a power was formed from the very nature of the Balance itself, a power of such EVIL that no man dare to speak aloud of it. It had no form nor soul, it was a pure essence that finally cast a long shadow upon all the living, and took a form when the Time was set. Secret cult of EVIL worshippers was born, to channel the energy of unspeakable EVIL. It was the time of Balance that hit the peace, when EVIL took form of a demon lord Nal'Jaftarmaan. He was the punisher for the beings of Light, and where ever he set his foot, plants turned to ashes and races made war against eachother. It was the time of balance that had come upon this very earth, crumbling the Empire that had lasted a long time. Not much has been recorded from this period of time, much was destroyed by the vile hatred of pure EVIL that raged one quarter of a century. Villages were burned by the worshippers of Him, no one knows how many races were brought to extinction, cataclysms followed one another, His magic razing and cleansing the way ahead His worshippers... It was indeed the Time. He continued towards the mountain top, and while his feet carried him onward, clouds darker than anything seen before gathered around the Mountain of the Ancients. The clouds were of the Black, drawing all the remaining around them into them and there was no power to stop it. But one artifact, an object that had created the flaw in the Balance, an object that had caused the shift of power from neutrality to GOOD, which itself created the EVIL. Lars held his staff closer to his now old body, seeking protection and power to continue his final quest. He now saw the altar that stood there, silent and magnificient, a tribute to EVIL. Sun was not visible anymore. More closer he got, more Black surrounded him. One word was enough to light the Staff and repel the forces that were the Staff, and he had the courage to continue. It's marble pilars stood high as ten full sized giants, it's dark steps shining as if never seen a patch of dirt upon them. Lars knew he had reached his destination and all there remained was... he did not know. The altar stood there, so close but yet far away. Lars was sure He knew, and thus did not hurry. Evidently, it would be the battle against an immortal EVIL, battle far more epic than any of the tales he had heard. But yet it would be easier, as the power he held was the creator of all he could now see and feel. And He arrived. Huge clap of thunder rang across the lands as His fiery chariot descended from heavens, towed by ten Nightmare Lords breathing fire and leaving fire to the sky as their hooves hit an unseeing platform of air. In front of the altar He now stood, looking down at this mortal who has set his foot to defy His power. And Lars continued towards his destiny. A destiny that had been found by searching libraries hidden so well under the darkest of soils that the Black could not find them. Ten long years. But such a small price to pay from devotion and courage. The sun was no more. A voice boomed from His mouth while flames billowed to the heavy air all around... "I see you are here, Mortal". He did not say anything else, just watched with keen eyes and sat on the altar, small glimpse of a smile on His face. "I had not expected to meet thee so soon. Thou art brave and foolish enough to challenge my Power, but not wise enough to yield in front of your true master." Lars shruddered from the power of his words, noticing he might be too late... The EVIL had grown to proportions where the Staff's protection was not enough. Lars felt it with his every bone. "I wish not to worship the same element of which thou art created, Nal'Jaftarmaan. I hold the Staff of the Ancients in front of thee, and I defy everything that has come of it, and I am ready to take the challenge my destiny has brought to me.", answered Lars. A loud cackle escaped from the Demon's mouth as He stepped down from the altar, "I am born from the magic that created this world and I can say it is my father. The son will take over his father's crown, and rule for eternity. I feed on the souls of all that my father created and thou shalt not question what is the Purpose of All. My children will obey under my power and only it. Feeble mortal, thee could have gained far more than thou can now imagine. Thou could have been part of Me, parth of what thee now see all around you. But now thou art nothing but an instrument doomed to be part of the Black." The Demon stepped towards Lars, casting a spell in an instant directly drawing energy from All that there was. A ball of blue lighting struct Lars, imprisoning him inside a crushing cube of force. Unable to breath and unable to resist he felt the force of the Black crawling inside him towards his heart. He had lost the battle before it even had started, the Staff of the Ancients proving no protection from the force that had grown more powerful than itself. Lars' feet rose from the scorched ground and he felt his life energy drawing itself to the spell that had him imprisoned. "I want the staff to be my final triumph over life itself. It is my key to the world of the Black. Mortal, give it to me and die!". The Demon stretched his hand and easily grasped the Staff still held by Lars. The whole life and future filled Lars' mind on a single burst of energy, making him feel empty and without form. His body began to pass into the Grey as the Demon let out a laughter of triumph. Lars saw all the sacred scriptures he had learned on his journeys whirling as seemingly meaningles sentences all around. While still holding the Staff he gathered the strength that was him, reciting "Let there be light". And there was light. Suddenly a great burst of energy shot from the Staff to the clouds above, flaring all around the top of the mountain, engulfing Lars and Nal'Jaftarmaan to a ball to multicolored bright light. All that was is the Staff, and the powers created by EVIL was originally from the Staff. For it was the Balance, the zone of neutrality that now reigned. Lars felt his body disappearing into a surge of power that was now gathering all the world into itself. Until there was nothing left but the pure power of which all has been created. And his mind was freed. He heard hundreds of whispers around him, and there was no Time and no Space. Only thing that existed in reality if it can be called that way, was All. And he started to shape it. He created the land and the seas, plants and the sun. He shaped the energy into a world, where he created all the races equal. And he created the magic, divided to spheres where All could not be created again. He created the evil and the good using balance as his guideline. For he was a God. His destiny was fulfilled. And the first sunrise dried the dew from mountain flowers as it had done before yet it had never happened. He formed all that we see now, creating powers to control and shape it, using all the energy he had to the last drop. He did not create a body to himself but created two children from the last of the power of All that was left. And he was smiling. He is all around all the time, invisible to us. He does not have power to be be worshipped upon nor does he have power to change his mind. All is set and All is him as we now see it. --- Decades passed and the world shaped itself. One heritage did he leave and it was the brotherhood of the spritual joy. For no one shall rule this world alone and no one shall ever wield power of such proportions it can destroy all. The world lives in people's memory and should it perish into foolishness, it still lives in the memories of the individuals. Be it then a world that is not ours the mind is more powerful than any matter which is created of pure energy. Remember this and fare thee well. I am the last of the bearers of the Word. I am the creator of the brotherhood of Lars, do not forget me. Ingis The Prophet of Lars

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Library: the Book of the Ancient Kings