71 Dark Origins (1/2)

There was an open path to the inside of the castle, the large draw bridge was open. None of the Ghouls dared to approach the gate. It was as if a deeply instilled instinct told them to stay away. This meant that the most dangerous place for us to be, was also temporarily the safest.

When we entered the castle I could feel a stirring in my soul. My library opened on it's own, displaying an open book written in an ancient language that I should not understand.

This words seemed to be written in blood, and as they were slowly absorbed by my mind I reached an enlightened state. I collapsed right there. My body not functioning in the way that it should as the strange words began to radiate in my mind.

The words told me the story of a young man, a young man who had an incredibly rareand fatal disease. The young man was born crippled. His body betrayed him, attacking itself and was slowly killing him.

The boy had a strong mind, and despite his crippled body he began to study the art of magic. Only in his great hunger for all the knowledge magic mad to offer kept him going from day to say.

Unfortunately, The year before he turned 18 his body got worse. His illness progressed, crippling his legs, not allowing him to move from the waist down.

An ordinary child would have been disheartened. And he most certainly was. His mind became dark and twisted. He became obsessed with the thought of riding himself of this cursed body.

He moved with the help of a wheelchair. Traveling up and down the spire of magic. He searched for months, reading every book on magic he could find. Until eventually he found it.

The book described the ancient art of necromancy. An art forbidden by the side of light, at least the most essential parts. But he did not mind. If the side of light could not help him then he would turn to the side of Dark.

He had no loyalty to the light. He had no connections. The light had never given him an ounce of mercy.

The art of necromancy required sacrifice. It required one to pledge their bet soul to the dark in the most brutal of ways.

He relished the chance. He yearned for it. His conciouse had long since stopped it's annoying whispers. The greater the sacrifice he gave to the Dark gods the greater his gifts.

He used all of his connections, he used sympathy he recieved because of his weakness. He used every cruel and under handed means he could come up with. Eventually He had collected enough.