Draconic Testament

by Zac Atie

  Abaddon’s heart sinks as he picks up Sancterus’ trail at the beginning of the bridge to Blight’s claim. Blight’s claim was once a small kingdom, located in Eastern Metholi, close to the Pontaron Sea, built within the very early years of Cazrian existence, when the dragons still watched over us, but it befell a terrible fate. The fair kingdom was wiped out by one overlord. One dreaded overlord, who dabbled the furthest one could possible go in the forbidden arts of Necromancy. Dhym. Dhym’s goal in life was to master the art of total reincarnation, mastered by Ultimali, the lord of all Magic, arguably one of the most powerful being’s to ever exist in the known Universe. Ultimali was a friend of Xelphan Elric, the founding family of the Elric legacy, whom Sancterus, the Overlord of Metholi, belongs to. The two trained and practiced the arts of magic together, and believe it or not, the stronger of the two was Ultimali, even though he was not an Overlord. Ultimali’s ambitions grew great, as he built a small kingdom and attracted subjects to live within. Over the years, it grew, and became a small independent kingdom that answered to nobody. The kingdom was levitated above an extremely large moat, filled with water, and waterfalls were formed to keep that moat sustained. The only way into Ultima was across a large, long, bridge. Ultimali had taken four apprentices in the past, who grew strong, and are known today as Blight’s children. Around this time, he created the ‘Azel’, weapons of pure magic that held powers beyond belief by absorbing a sorcerers souls into the weapon, like a monolith. He bestowed four upon his apprentices, and then proceeded to create more. Nobody knows just how many there are to this day, as others have managed to create Azel of their own. After a while, Ultimali took two new apprentices. The first was a woman named Kattori, a rather promising yet low ranking member of society. The second, and the most important, was a man named Dhym, brother to Mortis, the icy overlord of Cradle, a kingdom to the south. Eventually, Xelphan, the first Overlord of Metholi made the decision to defy the Dragons and attempt to bring salvation to the dying world of Dominion, the homeworld of the Domini. Ultimali spent a lot of time studying Warlock Magic, despite the warnings from the rest of the world, and surpassed the Domini in terms of Necromancy. He found out how to restore a soul to one’s body, the process known as ‘Total Reincarnation’. However, Ultimali soon saw how Total Reincarnation could work both ways, how it could take the souls of others into yourself, boosting your powers beyond, perhaps, even the dragons! Such a discovery was tempting, but he never gave into it. The discovery was huge, but also extremely dangerous. He soon realized why exactly the dragons deemed this form of magic forbidden. He loved his subjects, and he feared that his discovery would lead to a disruption in balance to the world of Magi. Ultimali died, suddenly. He did not store his soul within a Monolith, which was customary for Overlords, for he did not want to share the secrets and horrors of magic. Dhym was irate with this decision, and preserved Ultimali’s body, studying in his footsteps. He happily handed over the Kingdom to Kattori on the promise that all of Ultimali’s journals and studies would be handed over to him. A fatal mistake due to Kattori being foolish and power hungry. She happily gave in to the commands, and while she governed the kingdom, Dhym studied the magic of Necromancy. His knowledge and skill with magic did not come close to Total Reincarnation, but Dhym found how to insert life into the brain and re-animate the memories. He imparted the memories on himself, and all of Ultima paid the price. In one spell, Ultima’s citizens and their lives were sacrificed in order to dissolve Dhym’s body and turn him into spirit. Cities crumbled from the force of the ritual, from the intensity of the magic. No-one withstood it. Curiously, the magic went no further than the borders of Ultima. The destruction stopped there. All that remains is sand, rubble, Ultima’s bridge, and an ancient temple, where Dhym resides. Nobody knows how Dhym thinks anymore. But, he’s obviously at peace in a dead kingdom, for he has made no attempt to leave Ultima. If he could. Mortis, who was a relative of Dhym, believed the idea of Dhym being able to leave, but not wanting to, was far too dangerous. He sacrificed his life in order to create a massive hurricane to shield the outside world from Dhym’s reach, although nobody knows if it would actually work, should Dhym feel the need to test it. Ultima was renamed “Blight’s claim”. It is no longer the land Cazria once knew, just a Kingdom claimed by blight. In a world of magic such as Cazria, tragedies happen, but Ultima was the most costly. Would the world benefit if it was stripped of all magic? To completely erase it from Cazria? Would that stop the amount of death and destruction inflicted on this world?

  Another wyvern was up ahead, the largest Abaddon had ever seen. The wyvern had golden plate armour on it’s reptilian joints and across it’s forehead. The wyvern was waiting loyally on the bridge, awaiting it’s master. Wyverns, although they come from the Wilderness, are not the most dangerous creatures found there. But they are the fastest mount that a Cazrian can ride, and can run extremely fast, as well as bite and claw their enemies. Abaddon dismounts his wyvern and leaves it by the side of Sancterus’. From here, he is to walk to the hurricane. The hurricane was strong, and the only ones who could ever pass the hurricane are those who have a strong Magic Pool. Blight’s claim is notorious for those who have lost loved ones, since Dhym is not dead and can still grant Total Reincarnation. However, very few have left Blight’s claim, and the majority of the brave souls have fell victim to the hurricane rather than the maniacal spirit. Nobody knows what Dhym actually wants, those who have left Blight’s claim are usually interrogated by Cradle Special Forces, but nothing useful actually comes from them… or, more believable, like the Metholi council believes, Cradle’s council would rather keep it to themselves. Abaddon stands before the great hurricane, preparing himself to enter and travel to the other end. The pull was strong enough as it is from where he is standing, but not strong enough to bother with using magic to sustain his balance. Abaddon wondered if his Overlord actually managed to get through with the wounds that he had sustained at the hand of his apprentice, and the traitor to all of Cazria, Draynar. “Of course he’s alive…” Abaddon thinks to himself. “Such a foolish notion, he’s an Overlord.”

  Abaddon takes a deep breath, and steps forward, proceeding through the Hurricane. The hurricane whips at him, dirt hitting and scratching at his face and clothes, and across the golden jewellery above his right eye, extremely noticeable in complexion to his light red Cazrian skin, although nothing could scratch a metal so hard. The golden jewellery was welded into his skin, to mark his nobility within the Kingdom. Faking nobility was a severe crime, so nobody would dare to mimic someone of such high standard unless they had nothing to lose. The ends of his black, braided hair began to become loose, and tug at the roots. The stress and pressure began to wear at him, and he began to take magic from his Magic Pool and sustain his balance using magic. He pushes on, hissing and cursing, clenching his long canine teeth, as the magic shielding his face and eyes begins to wane, and has to be reinforced. He believes deep down he can make the journey, but the hurricane was going to strip him of his dignity and honour, as his clothes are ripped at and torn. The hurricane’s sand and dirt were growing to ear-drum bursting levels, and each step he took the journey got harder and more pressured. Eventually, after much pain and suffering, he realizes that if he doesn’t abandon his dignity, he’s going to be whipped off the bridge. He brings himself to his hands and knees, and crawls, curses and huffs turning to moans of agony. Twenty minutes of pure agony ensue before he reaches the middle of the hurricane. Here is where most of the struggle is thrown at you. Many have been whipped off this bridge due to magic loss or exhaustion. He wheezes and presses on, hissing to himself. “Focus, Damnit!” He wheezes and sighs, fingers trembling. Honour dictates that he must push on, for Cazria.

  Eventually, he reaches the end of the hurricane, and collapses from the exhaustion. His Magic Pool has nearly completely been drained. If he had been any weaker from the fight that he had to escape from in Cienka, he would have joined the sand and rubble within the moat. The gates to Bligh
t’s claim were open slightly, enough to walk through without having to squeeze past much. As Abaddon approached, his eyes widened at the destruction that lay before him. It seems that the impact from within the temple of Dusk, dragon of magic, and spread outwards towards the buildings, destroying everything, leaving only sand and rubble in its destructive wake. There is dead machinery and ancient stonemasonry all around the Kingdom, and Ultima was huge. As far as the eye can see within the walls of Ultima, was rubble, all around. The only landmark that was still intact was the Temple. Abaddon closed his eyes. Through hollow sight, there was practically no signs of life. Except one. A rather large, ominous one. He knew who it was, right away. Dhym. The aura was large, and obviously powerful, but it was being modest by hiding most of it, likely to show it’s guests that it meant no harm. There was another life form, through closer inspection, trekking towards the larger one. This was also powerful, but it was broken. “Sancterus...” Abaddon whispered. The sheer thought of Sancterus actually wanting to make a deal with Dhym that could cost him his life is, quite frankly, infuriating to Abaddon. He seethed with rage at the fact that he had no chance to stop him, and by the time he reached Sancterus he would likely already be dead… but if that is how it is to be, then Abaddon will follow him to his death, and face Dhym before the end. He begins his trek across Blight’s claim, under the watchful gaze of Dhym. Abaddon could feel his power being contained within the Temple, watching out over the fallen kingdom, although his gaze was mainly on Sancterus. This is likely the first time an Overlord has brought himself before Dhym for a chance at Total Reincarnation…

  After hours of travelling, Abaddon ends up collapsing at the Temple stairs. The temple was huge, roof being supported by statues from the outside and inside. Abaddon pushes his way inside the dark, eerie temple, following Sancterus to his likely doom. The temple is decorated with insignias and memorabilia of the known races of the universe. The Ispii, scalenes, Domini etc. There were many, and many of the races that had been recorded here have been found as of today, but the statues were not Abaddon’s main concern. “Overlord Sancterus!?” Abaddon shouts, being answered by the echo of his own voice. “My Looord!?” Nothing was gained from screaming in the temple. There seemed to be nobody else. He could sense magic from somewhere in the dark temple. The doors that he came in from are underneath an altar that looks out upon the rest of the Kingdom, likely where speeches were made. On the inside, it’s like a regular church, although the corridor leads off into darkness and to stairs that lead up to the second floor and the roof. Abaddon reaches out and looks for Sancterus. He lost track of his Aura halfway to the temple, and all he can sense from within is Dhym. He knew Sancterus was still alive somewhere. He had to be. Abaddon began to walk down the dark corridor, becoming enveloped in pitch black. He creates a ball of fire within his hand, to light up his path as he made his way to the stairs... but there was no light being emitted. Whispers echoed all around him. “What?” Abaddon hissed. His furious ball of flame was like a match. He could see his hand, and arm, but he could see nothing else, as if he was inside a black hamster ball. The whispers increased, and after a while, he realised they were forming some sort of message. “What do you want?” Abaddon asked, then, he recognised who the voice belonged it. It belonged to Sancterus. “My lord?” Abaddon whispered back. The whispers were maddening! He wanted them to stop! He wanted to turn, to run, to get away... when... the message became clear. “Hide him. Hide him well. Keep him well away.” The whispers said. Then, they stopped. “My lord!?” Abaddon howled. Silence replied. The echoes of his voice were no longer present in the temple halls. He pursued Sancterus once again. He walked, and walked, and walked, knowing that he’d likely get nowhere... when he came across a light. He ran towards it, eager to be out of this maddening corridor, when he came stopped dead in his tracks around familiar surroundings. He was back where he started, altar above the entrance. He had went in a huge circle. Dhym had likely conjured some strong, illusion magic. Abaddon gritted his teeth, and spun 180, determined to find his Overlord, when he sensed something. Back at the altar. It was life. He turned, noticing two auras appearing from on top of the altar. He walked up the stairs, approaching the auras cautiously, slowing recognising who it was. It was Katrina. She was dead, though, on closer inspection, Abaddon began to see the colour return to her face. Slowly, her eyes began to animate, and slowly opened. “Abba… Abaddon?” Katrina wheezes.

  “Katrina...” Abaddon mumbles, in amazement. Emotion swept over his face, a rare sight. He didn’t know how to feel. His lord’s beloved was alive, but there was an infamous cost to this magic. This could only mean Sancterus was dead. “What happened? What happened to Sancterus?” She wheezes, weakly. Confusing memories popped up in her head, little by little. ”You were both attacked, we were betrayed by Draynar…” Abaddon hisses with disgust. “We took him in, although he was the son of the architect of the DomiCazrian war… So many people wanted his head, and Sancterus took him in because he saw a way for Adda'Gorath’s actions to be repented… as he did for my family.”

  ”Where am I?” Katrina wheezes. “The baby… is he ok?” Abaddon’s eyes flare at the question. Katrina, the so called Concubine of Metholi, is with child? Sancterus’ child? Abaddon thought that all hope was lost the second Sancterus sold his soul to Dhym, but now it appears he has a son. Abaddon ignores her question and contemplates the news. “If the Elrics within the Monolith find out about the baby, then perhaps the baby can be grown up to be the next overlord.” He thinks to himself. The Monolith was where the spirits of past Overlords would look at a subject to see if they are worthy of their magic and experience, however, it’s common knowledge that if the subject has the Overlord’s blood, more can be learned from the elders. Abaddon would make an acceptable Overlord within the terms of the past Overlords, but they would be angry that their hereditary advantage would be lost. The Elrics have had the longest streak of hereditary succession in Cazria, and that makes their Overlords extremely strong… and a strong Overlord is what Cazria need to beat back the second coming of the DomiCazrian war. Abaddon made his decision. “Katrina… the child is definitely Sancterus’, yes?” He asks her.

  ”Yes… of course… why?” She asks, bewildered.

  ”What’s his name?” Abaddon questions her, ignoring her question.

  ”Z…Zaxxarius” she trembles. She sees what’s coming. Abaddon strokes her face, and apologizes to her. Then he draws his knife.

  Abaddon races back towards the hurricane with the bloody newborn, Zaxxarius, in hand, running over the rubble of the destroyed kingdom. When he approaches the hurricane, he rests for a while, readying himself to re-create the madness he went through on the way here. He takes this time to examine the baby, and think about what he’s to do. Draynar is an extremely cunning opponent. Right now, all of Metholi is likely oblivious to Sancterus’ death and Draynar’s betrayal. He’s probably at Trinity right now, plotting how to weaken this kingdom from within, but his first target HAS to be Zolka. Zolka is where the portal to Dominion is, and it has the highest population of Domini. As soon as the Domini sense violence and their necromancy, they’ll come running to join in the bloodshed. The son of Adda’Gorath leading the second DomiCazrian was would bring many supporters. It’s their nature to kill, rape and pillage ever since the Dragons abandoned them to ruin. Abaddon strongly feels that it was a mistake to show mercy on them, not everything can be done through peace. Abaddon examines the baby. He looks a lot like a human… putting a human on the throne of Metholi will cause controversy, much like what led to the Metholian civil war. However, the human was a lot different than other babies he had seen. This one already had a grasp on magic, and a large amount at that. He wonders whether this is a normal thing for Overlord’s newborns, and if it is, he better take advantage of it quick, and sap some energy from him while he’s going back through the hurricane. Abaddon lifted himself to his feet, and departed through the hurricane. Upon reaching the other side, he realized something
was wrong. He could sense faint aura’s of magic near the wyverns. As he got through the hurricane, and his vision changed from dirt and sand, he saw exactly what it was. Domini. Domini had tracked me to this location, a small squad of six. However, believe it or not, Domini are close to useless against a single opponent, especially an Overlord’s apprentice. Domini usually fight through Necromancy and Curses, but Abaddon had the upper hand. Abaddon channels his magic around his skin and clothes, making them match the background, going practically invisible in the eyes of the Domini until he was too close. He approaches the closest Domini, who stops and squints his large, oval, black eyes. Abaddon manipulates the air and wind, and shoots it at the Domini. The Domini flies back and knocks another off the bridge, yelling loudly. The Domini shoot fire and ice at Abaddon, who dodges and shields himself from the blow with magic, then he shoots his Arcana towards his hand. Abaddon attacks the Domini, cutting them all down one by one, falling underneath the expertise of Abaddon. He checks the wailing baby to see if he’s okay, and to his surprise, the baby’s Magic Pool was not depleted yet. “You’re going to be a strong overlord, you know that?” Abaddon whispers to the baby, keeping his old usual expressionless face. “What am I going to do with you?” He asks himself, as he mounts his wyvern. The newborn cannot be truly safe here, in Cazria, or any other world that is currently governed by Sanctum, which handles affairs with aliens and was formed after the late Overlord Voltrin intended to take an Ispii as his queen. Sanctum was made up of purebloods, and they make sure that Metholi, which is the kingdom mainly in charge of the Crusade that the Cazrians have embarked on, will always have pureblood leaders. “I have to take you to the council.” Abaddon says. And he rides off into the grasslands of Metholi.