Chapter Seven: Remembrance

   It was a marvel at how much Krillin had grown.  Merlin, the first King of the Krillin looked upon his wonderful single-city empire and closed his eyes to remember it how it once was.

   Tall spires reached into the sky, silver, gold, and titanium colored, clad in glowing baubles that lit the sky so that even night appeared to be day, these baubles twined in clever and provocative designs of dragon clawing its way up the tower, of unicorns chasing each other around the tower.  Some depicted angels, and mighty powers, even a few displayed the secrets of magic, and how to cast certain clever spells.  The number of towers in those days numbered in the few thousands, each nearly a quarter of a mile tall, or taller.

   The magic in the air those days was thick, overwhelming, and to cast a magic sight spell was to blind yourself.  surrounding these spire for seven miles in each direction were smaller towers made of real stone and metals, not fabricated from the forges of magic, but from the forges of men.  And in these parts of the city, the smells of work, salt, and sulfurous alchemist's fires and super heated silver smith's smelting fires.  It was a glorious place that, even while many slept, others worked, driven by a super natural magic fire within themselves, a desire to be great and go beyond life its self, and all the constraints that came with it, to reach a point where they could one day own a tower so tall that they could see the world curve around themselves.

   Those were the day when magic was new and strong.  The days that would come to a crashing end in only a few short years.  It was 40,000 years ago, and much had happened to Krillin in that time.  There had been over 700 kings since his time, many of them only reigning for a few years before becoming immortal, or losing themselves to dark thoughts.  Many were assassinated for being a threat to the darker happenings within the city.  Others lived a thousand or more years, and served as Krillin's King for more than a few hundred years.  Each year had brought more towers of magic and greatness, and each decade saw the reign and power of Krillin grow by a mile in each direction, sometimes more.  There were even towers built in giant magical bubbles under the sea, and an occasional tower that pierced the waters impossibly, and stood against the great winds and waves of the sea.

   The Empire now spanned nearly the entire Plane, and left nothing untouched.  So  widespread was the use of magic that nothing was grown by soil and hand, water did not rain from the skys, but came from magical wells.  There was simply nothing that any person could ever need that magic would not provide them –either for a price of casting it- or for the price of someone casting it for them.  Even ingredients for spells were conjured.

   Merlin opened his eyes to look at the core of what was the Krillin plane.  Magic was so thick these days that one breath had more magic than the entirety of some lesser planes.  So much would change.  This would become a shattered world, perhaps not, he would warn them, but no one would listen.  His warning brought hope though, a few of them would move upon his warning and leave for safer places.  And a few would be captured, this was more of his hope, as he saw what the Krillin Humans would one day become, after being through torturous breeding experiments.

   The sky was filled with floating cities, upon upturned mountains, with towers even coming from the peaks that sat closest to the ground.  Where there was not a floating city, there was a tower that rose to most of it's height.  Spell Jammers flew through the air,  and beamed from tower to tower, some large, some small, brining supplies and gifts from one Mage to another.  There was now over a million million people living in the Krillin empire, and nearly all of them except the Krillin Humans knew how to cast spells.

   In the center of what once was the small Krillin empire, rose a single tower, its width nearly that of the original city that Merlin once ruled, Platforms rose from it's sides, and dwarfed the floating mountain Isles in the Sky.  This single tower rose so tall that it had a large glowing hemisphere around the upper three fourths of its self, to protect the inhabitants from the powerful heat of Soonas, and the light air of the upper atmosphere.  The tower, after ascending past the Isles in the Sky, narrowed quickly, and rose to a fine point, as if it was piercing the sky, as a ladder to the immortal heavens.

   Merlin slowly faded, and brought his mind to where the Council of Elders held it's chambers within that tower.  The Council had grown as much as the city, but many of its inhabitants were so old at this time that their minds had been overcome by time and life to have their minds resemble blackened candlewicks with no wax left to burn.

   Still, the voice of reason would only be heard and understood by the Elders, and only they could motivate the world they reigned to overcome what was coming to their door steps.

   He stood in the hallow chambers, seats spiraled around the walls of the chambers, and they slowly filled, as his presence was made known throughout the city by it's magical speaking routes.  He waited patiently, allowing the Elders, some grey of age, their bodies weathered, others young and strong, their magics fortifying their life and body.  And one face, a man of Timelessness looked at Merlin with great humor.  It was as if Merlin had just left for a few days, and was now back again.  He was so overjoyed at the return of his Friend, that the Chancellor of the First King of Krillin rose to his feet, and flew down to feet of his master, and kneel, waiting for permission to rise, and meet his long gone comrade.

   Merlin smiled, and spoke gently in his deep rumbling voice to his Chancellor.  “Your time is ending my Friend.  The time of Krillin is running short.  You have provided me with such service, and such service to Krillin.  I bow to you for being so selfless.”  Merlin took his Chancellor's arm, and raised him to his feet, then knelt himself, to his brethren and elder Friend, both of them in timeless bodies untouched by the harsh fates of others.

   The Chancellor grabbed his King by the shoulders, and spoke, “Rise my King, for I know your games, and you have watched over us, and let us grow and make our own mistakes.  You left for your reasons, but your legacy has guided us in the right direction for all of the ages past.”  He then hugged his King ferociously, and laughed, saying: “How I missed you, wonderful Merlin!  You should have visited more often!”

   Then the Chancellor introduced his King to the Council, speaking with a magically enhanced voice.  “Council, I present you with Timeless King of Krillin, the First King of the Empire, the Mage Extraordinare, His Royal Majesty, Merlin.”

   The Council was silent, many of their burnt out minds flaring to life at such a notion, quizzical that such an event should be possible, or even plausible!

   It was at that moment that the Reigning King appeared next to Merlin, as well as the Reigning Prince Theoris, each escorted by their Chancellors.  The man at the Kings side looked throughly irritated at another person being in the King's Standing spot in the Elder Chambers.  The King, however, betrayed no emotion on his face, but stood quietly.  Mariam whispered in Theoris's ear, and Theoris but his hand out to show that he did not need to hear it at this moment.

   Theoris was the first to speak, as it was traditionally the role of the Prince to defend the King before the King be required to get involved himself.  “Sir, it is obvious you have great power, as you stand in a circle that would smite anyone but the current King of Krillin, but you Dishonor the King of the Krillin Empire by standing there.  Furthermore, you have no aura of magics about you.  Please explain yourself, or I shall be forced to engage in combat with you.”

   “Ah, young Theoris, you have touched the threads of the weave, I see that by the way they stain your hands...  You are much more careful than you need to be, but remember that in Times of War, Threads can harm both sides, if not woven so carefully.  I am proud that you have attained such Prowess.”  Merlin turned to the Reigning King.  “King, I must say, this was not done to dishonor you, but you are wise and know that nor feel dishonored.  I am very Honored that the Krillin Elders have chosen such a King.  I am Merlin, the First King of Krillin, and Changer of the Weave.”

   There were gasps from the Council of Elders, and murmurs of disbelief and resentment flew across the chasm of the chambers.  The King spoke to allay his people's fears.  “Surely you have your reasons, King of the Weave, but what do you have for us to interrupt our prospering Empire?”

   Wise King, Merlin reminded himself, very wise, indeed.  “I am here to tell you that in merely one hundred years time a power of darkness unleashed will destroy your Kingdom.  You cannot overcome this power alone, and most efforts will fail inherently in their dealings regardless of their intent.  One hundred years is too far away for people to consider, yet so short in your lives.  You may forget the reasons you bind together with other forces, but never forget that you will not survive if you do not.”  Merlin was silent for a moment.  This did not need to make sense, he reminded himself, they were going to forget most of it anyways.  “You will be remembered, and you will fight gloriously, but the enemy is not where you can find him.  He will come from only the places you can see, but not go.  Theoris, you must make portals to the other planes, where the Giants, Dwarves and Elves have receded, and tell them of the situation.  They will find it odd that the Krillin are asking for their help, but they will trust you for it.  Only you know how to weave the threads to do such a thing.  With that I leave you all,”  Merlin turned to his Chancellor, and spoke lovingly, “Longir, You are truly great.  Your Service is greater than any other's.  Let me know when you tire of this World.”

   With that Merlin faded, without casting a spell, and reappeared in his private heaven, Daedrich, filled with sorrow.  He must prepare this world for the trillion dead Krillin that will soon inhabit it.  At least he will see some old Friends.

Chapter Eight: Confrontation

   Pwyll felt a bit of smudge joy at watching Merlin build an empire in his private little world.  War was coming, they both knew it, and each was preparing in his own way.  Merlin preparing for the ashes, Pwyll preparing the army.  The unfortunate part of knowing the future is that you can often times be very unable to stop it.

   The only thing that concerned Pwyll was the Tabernacle was nowhere to be found.  He could screw things up big time if he started bringing the dead back to life.  He even tried to search Tabernacle's private heaven, the Afterlife (and the Tabernacle called it), just to find three loafing dead life worshiping weirdos, and a note saying very bluntly “You are DEAD, now enjoy not dieing in the Afterlife.  Perhaps spruce things up too while your at it, as I won't be around for a few thousand years to do it myself.  -T”

   Who writes notes like that to his worshipers?  Pwyll at least built an alley (a very big one) for his throngs of thieves and con artists to kill each other in (over and over and over- it was slightly more glorious and deceitful each time, with the tricks, betrayals, and convolutions getting wilder each time).

   “Merlin,”  The name didn't draw a glance.  Pwyll thought he hadn't been detected as of yet, but perhaps the Merlin had a few ticks up his sleeve that Pwyll didn't know about.  “Where is your friend, the Tabernacle?”

   “Hmmm,”  Merlin seemed disinterested to Pwyll, but it was hard t tell with a voice like Merlin's, distorted by time and such magic infusion, that anything stated was an over exaggeration of convincing truth, even if it was utter nonsense.  “I guess you'd want to know, He's in disposed.  He won't be playing a role in this battle.”

   This was very confusing.  Why would Merlin admit something like this?  Unless it was to hide something.  Yes, he must be hiding something, you couldn't deceive the Puppet Master.  “So, I see you building quite an empire out of sand there!  Why don't you let your throngs of dead do that for you?”  With a motion from his hand Pwyll sent a tornado hurtling through the newly constructed towers and libraries.  It ceased to exist very quickly, and all the damage reverted.

   Merlin was not happy.  He turned to Pwyll and watched the Puppet Master kneel before him, forced by the very essence of the air surrounding him, indeed the very essence of his own body.  Pwyll tried to cast a spell to escape, but even his mind was turned against him, overpowered by the force of the very weave that gave all life it's essence.  “Pwyll, do NOT think that you can ever hurt me or my heavenly abode.  It will not be tolerated.”  Blood started to run from Pwyll's eyes, mouth, ears, and fingernails.  His body felt as if it was being crushed.

   Then as quickly as it started, it ended, and Pwyll was standing, with nothing wrong, no wounds or stains to show what had happened.  He felt no lingering pain, and Merlin had his back turned.  “I... I s-s-should be going...”

   “Pwyll, remember that not everything is as it seems.”

   Such anger arose in Pwyll, that as he disappeared, red and black flames rose in his stead.  Such arrogance, that Merlin has!  Some day he will teach Merlin what it is to have true power!  He will crush that silly essence Merlin has formed around himself, and end this charade.  For his love of games, Merlin's games were not the ones he liked.


   Theoris looked around himself at the council members listening to the Discussion between the King and himself.  He didn't know how to make portals.  Everyone thought he did.  He could barely move threads around at this point, surely making a portal from them would be more difficult?

   “Prince of Krillin, What says you, and your hiding of Portal Making?”  The King put on a face of anger and annoyance, but Theoris knew better, the King did not get angry, however, the Council only understood what they saw, and if they did not see Justice, then the king might find himself with a blade in the back.

   “King, I would hide nothing, I have just now learnt how to move threads.  I am far from making portals...  We could farspeak with the other Races, and ask the Elves to make some portals like they did when each race split into its own Plane.”  The council watched silently, very trusting in their King to do what was necessary.

   “I will not be detoured, Prince, when did you plan on brining this to the attention of the Council?”

   “When I could prove what it was I had done, and do it again without extreme difficulty.”  Theo knew how the council was about random wild claims of super powers.  Such claims often were met with “prove it to this dagger or spell of death,” which rarely went well.

   And so it would seem, the King had that very idea himself right now.  “Well, then, my Prince, since you seem to have it all figured out, make us a Portal.  If we are all to die in a hundred years, we have no time to lose, or research.  We must begin.”

   Mariam, upon definitive knowledge that she would most likely die from doing so, stepped between the King and Prince, and pleaded, “King, I have seen him move threads, but it took him 10 minutes to just make a glimmering light, please, it was such an effort, he was pale after even that!  He couldn't possibly do such a thing as a portal!”

   The King raised a hand, but the Prince was faster, with a timestop spell, freezing the chambers from any movement besides himself.  He then cast sever defensive wall spells around himself and Mariam, and the timestop spell wore off.  The King's spell flew, and fizzled, in a bright and colorful display of curled ribbons.  He looked furiously at the Prince.

   Perhaps the Prince had been too quick to judge the King incapable of anger.  “Prince!  How DARE you defy your King!”

   “I will do what I can to make a Portal, but Mariam must be kept out of this.”  He looked to her, and kissed her on the forehead.  She disappeared into smoke at the kiss, the smoke curling around Theo's cheeks, caressing his skin.

   “If you fail, your whore's life is forfeit as well.”  The King had regained his composure, and quietly dispelled Theoris's defensive magics.

   Theoris took a deep breath.  It had been a long day.  He had revealed his feelings for his Chancellor, betrayed his King, held a secret from the Council, met a long “Dead” King who must be older than 40,000 years old, and now he had to create a portal to an ancient Elven kingdom, with only an inkling of how to make a glimmering sphere.  “Good Luck,” he thought to himself.

ok um, nice story, i voted for you in the competition btw :p, either way i spotted a problem lol you have two chapter sixes, on first page chapter 6: glimmer then it goes to chapter 6:remembrance.. is this intentional or a error :p

Dur... (fixed) lol

Goes to show how many people are actually reading it these days...

Chapter Nine: The End Began

   Contrary to most people's Idea of what was actually possible, or plausible, Merlin was not the oldest, nor the most powerful being in the Planes.  This is saying a lot, considering he could, at will, change the Universe to suit his needs, and even change the course of time, if his “Ego,” and “Ethical Beliefs” would allow him to do so.  No, the universe happened to exist before Merlin, and would exist after Merlin, because, yes, at some point, he would die (cease to exist might be a more appropriate term for his exact condition).

   The universe as it was, had been around for millions of years before Merlin, millions of years before the Elder races of Horned Dragons, Gelatinous Amoebas, and Vibrant Salamanders.  So old was the universe, that not even the Codex of Unseen had even an inkling or smudge on it's pages of what came before those great elder races.

   But those that were around at that time knew what came before that time, and after that time.  These timeless beings watched the passings of the Great Races, with their rise, and fall, with a casual blink of an eye.

   What was better known by most average people than any of the current “Gods,” was that Luck, Fate, Drama, and Evil were amongst those timeless beings, and preferred to be a bit more active than their brethren.

   These Beings, in all their timelessness, knew that all which happened in life was a ride, and as such, there was rarely a reason to do anything but sit back and enjoy it.

   All except four siblings, that is.  Drama felt that everything was better off with plenty of well placed “Bumps” along the road, and went to great lengths to cause the living to think that events in their life were, for lack of a better description: Dramatic.  Drama did everything to make such subtle feelings in each person, that when a disappointment occurred, it would feel like the mounting end of life as it currently existed.  In this way, Drama rationalized that each living creature would cherish life more from a bit of irrationality.

   Fate felt differently.  It was widely regarded, by Fate (and many super-powerful wizards), that a person would never make enough out of their life.  Not only for each person, but also as a Culture, Nation and Plane.  Nothing, left to it's own devices, would ever attain anything, it all had to be planned for them, so they would make the most of it.  In this way, Fate rationalized that each living creature could reach it's fullest potential with a little planning.

   Again, with all siblings, Luck had yet another opinion.  It was understood by Luck that each creature needed to feel Loved.  And for this reason, Luck felt that if chance did not seem to “favor” a creature in their life at some point, then that creature would never truly know Love.  For what is Love but feeling that the world has spun to this point, just-for-you.  In this way, Luck rationalized that each living creature would feel important in life from the small amount of Love that came from the world revolving around them.

   Evil never really understood the other siblings (and it could be assumed that if they were interested enough, that the other siblings would never understand their rogue sibling).  Evil felt that all things living, despite the efforts of his other siblings, were generally miserable, and deserved to be relieved of their suffering.  In this sense, Evil was very right, and Evil was very patient about his attempts to free anything living from the binds of his other siblings.

   It was his distinct opinion, that the very gestures of help that his siblings offered the living actually hindered them into being miserable.  That each living creature would be content and happy for its duration of life if it wasn't for Drama, Fate, and Luck.  So he forever conspired, helping individual beings become immune to the effects of his brothers, only to watch those that were not immune maliciously slay these “freed” individuals.

   In fact, when an individual was freed from this enslavement to Drama, Fate, and Luck by Evil, the individual actually realized its true potential, and became a catalyst for Joy, Love, and Potential.  So potent was this catalyst, and so powerful it became, that members that surrounded this individual felt as if they would be smothered from existence, and left from ever being known by the great shadow eclipsing them.  Such fear they felt from this individual who only wished to help them, that they began to act irrationally, Dramatically, on their own will, without the help of Drama.

   They began to dismiss Fate, Luck, and Drama all together, as if this one individual had an infectious immunity that spread amongst them, but actually caused them to act with more of these three traits, without the influence of the siblings.  It was as if these creatures, seeing freedom, sought to bury it deep within and never look it in the face again.

   They became murderous, killers, full of hatred, remorse, and bitter jealous feelings.  The individual who was freed was always the subject of their rage.  So in this way, the Freed Individual, who only sought to help the brethren he was of, found the body which was no longer inhabited, beaten, broken, in flames, and occasionally, hanging in the sky from a stick.

   When the individual had died, the brethren which had killed him returned to their lives, as if scarcely anything had happened, their immunity to Drama, Fate, and Luck gone.

   All that ever remained of the individuals who were massacred in this was, were stories of how they were the right ones, and the world made a mistake somehow.

   Of course Drama, Fate, and Luck found it ripe to mock their smaller sibling, Evil, of the failures that were hauntingly familiar each time an individual was freed.  For this reason, Evil had lost confidence that this was truly the right approach.  Or, perhaps, if not the correct approach for freeing the Living, then definitely the wrong approach for circumventing his sibling's plans and games.

   It was this reason that Evil suggested to Pwyll that the Dieing Elder Races break a certain, and very fake, “Seal,” preventing its self from taking a more direct role in the happenings of living beings.  In doing this, the Elder Races would actually be transforming themselves into races totally unaffected by Drama, Fate and Luck.  It was a risky gamble, for the Freed Races could be just like the contagious “Immunity” that actually amplified the natural Drama, Fate and Luck tendencies of life.

   On the other side, they could become races of pure existence, without any of those damning side effects.  They could become the catalyst for other races to free themselves from the imprisonment of the other siblings.

   Evil felt about this whole situation very much like a cheating card player does when lying to someone who knows the truth, and is about reveal it.  Evil couldn't help it, it had to be tried.

Good stuff Keepers, I have to say that you are a really practical person. Take it all the way .

I read everything in the forums... If that counts for something lol.

Cheers,
Anich

dito - even if i understand only half of it 

Chapter Ten: Happy-er Endings

   “Ah, Tabernacle, you are such a rock.  Well, a Forged magic and metal rock... Now... I guess...”  Merlin frowned, it wasn't the same without his friend to throw insults back.  He would have to teach some of his new wizards how to do that, give them a way to entertain him.

   He carried The Tabernacle of Life around with him, it being an odd oversized hand made of Mithril, Gold, Platinum, adorned with all kinds of Jewels.  It was actually quite gaudy, but Tabernacle had designed it.  If the Tabernacle wanted to spend the next thousand years in something quite so gaudy, that was completely up to him.

   Actually, the fantastic part of it, so much power was held inside that it actually created a lens effect, where it looked bigger than it was, and if you when to grab it, your hand would become bigger, and be just the right size to grasp it.  It was quite an effect.

   And then there was Pwyll again.  Standing in front of Merlin.  This was becoming a nuisance.  Merlin stopped, snapped his fingers, and the Tabernacle of Life disappeared.  “What do you want?”

   “I wanted to inform you that I would become more powerful than you ever will be very soon.  It will be wonderful to crush you.”  Pwyll was very smug about this.  He had asked Evil to explain exactly how much more powerful he would become.  Evil had let him know that he would always be the most powerful God, under no uncertain circumstances.

   “Let me guess, Evil confronted you?”

   Pwyll's heart stopped (or what was left of it).  “What?!”

   “He told me what his plans were, we're on good terms.  I hope it all works out for you, It'll be nice to have a more powerful brother to keep me in check.”  Merlin stuffed all his humor and joy deep within himself, trying his best to not let any of it show.  Evil was such a nice guy, Pwyll didn't know him, and would never know him.

   Merlin had a way of confusing Pwyll that was quite indescribable.  Not only was the Puppet Master uncertain as to why Merlin was so neutral about this, but also how Merlin knew Evil.  “Uh, I must be going.”

   For being the Puppet Master, Pwyll was becoming very easy to manipulate... Perhaps that was a cause of level of deceit he was trying to accomplish right now, and the powers he was trying to attain.


   Theoris was spent, he had, for twenty hours, been working at it.  Contrary to the way the events had started, the King had been very attentive, and helpful.  Mariam and the King had both cast a great deal many spells to provide a variety of functions to Theoris.

   So, for instance, his senses were under constant heightened levels, his willpower had been fortified, his hunger subsided until he was finished, and felt as if he had just rested, and would not need a blink of sleep for another day or so.  These amenities, however, could not restrain raw mental drain from which the task had taken.  Theoris needed a rest.

   He looked at the portal- nearly finished.  Only three threads left.  “I can do this.”  He found a thread of the right type near him, and gently wove it through the other threads, and the glyphs on that side of the portal lit up, the weaving complete for that portion of the portal.  He reached for the next thread he needed, and wove it as well.

   Only one thread left...  He reached, grabbed, wove... and collapsed, finished.  Finally, he breathed a deep breath.  “There, King, now let me rest please!”  Theoris laid on his back beneath the shimmering portal.

   It's surface was like that of a still Lake, except it did not reflect what was within the Council chambers, but instead reflected a deep green forest, live with wildlife.  Such vibrancy the Krillin had not sen in a few thousand years, that it stung their yes, and they had to shield away slightly.

   “King,” Mariam hesitated slightly, and spoke meekly.  “May we leave for a rest?”  It was against decency for a Chancellor to address the King directly unless asked to do so, but decency had been cast aside twenty hours ago.

   “Only if you promise me one thing, Mariam, you quit your job, and take care of Theoris.”  Mariam opened her mouth as if to say something, but saw the smirk on the King's face, and thought better of herself.

   Instead, Mariam cast a simple teleportation spell, and brought Theoris and herself back to Theoris's chambers.  The King may be very generous, but he was never one to show that his words were anything but exacting.  She had lost her Job, but she had gained something much greater.

   The King, still back in the chambers, was looking at the portal in amazement.  Theoris has not cast a single spell.  Yet here stood a portal to another plane.  It made him wonder about these “threads.”  Meantime, two more had to be made.  This one was obviously to the Elves, but they needed one to the Giants and one to the Dwarves...

   “Yes, very annoying that you only have one of three now.”  The King was surprised by the appearance of Merlin next to him.  And he was reading the Kings thoughts!  “How about I help you guys out, since you did so well with the first one? Hmmm?”

   The King stood there, looking a bit bewildered by the casual attitude of the God before him.  “Sure?”  The King didn't know much else to say.  It was quite an experience to be in Merlin's Presence.

   Merlin waved a hand, and very casually, two more portals appeared, very similar to the first, but the glyphs were different, and the reflections were to different places.  One to fiery badlands, with random spiky mountains rising from nowhere, the other one to snowcapped mountains, with great fortresses dotting their sides, the gates made of gold and silver, shining brightly in the noon-time sun.

   Merlin smiled, and so did the King.  Perhaps there would be a happy ending for the Krillin after all.

   Merlin knew better, but kept that to himself.

hehe, good on ya Merlin.

oh wow!! so much text! this isnt just a story, but a story book! hahahaha :] It feels awkward posting, without even reading all of the chapters yet (i dont have the time right now unfortunatly) but i believe you deserved a post letting you know that your doing excellent work!

tommorow i promise to have read all of the chapters and give a better post, but you wrote so much!! what a huge contribution you've made! keep up the fantastic work tpk :}

yours
~missy

Chapter Eleven: History

   “Merlin, thank you for saving me?”  A wizard in blue robes was asking.  Merlin stood over him, fists glowing bright with blue flames, clenched, his face dark, not happy whatsoever.

   “You are young and do not understand the role you play.  One day, in the far future, you will play a role.”  Merlin looked away into the blue sky, distant leaves of a nearby giant tree blocking his view.  The wind blew, and the leaves left his line of sight for a moment.  “There is a future that will happen, and in it, you die.”

   “Well, that doesn't sound too reassuring.”  The wizard stood up, and brushed his robes from dirt and ashen scorch marks.  Robes of regeneration were a great thing, they get burned, then heal themselves up as soon as you brush off the ashes.  “Do I do something fun or important?”

   “Ha, no.  Not in your sense of the words.  My son kills you.  Unless you find a way to kill him.  So I need to teach you a spell, it will let you drain the power from and mage, wizard or otherwise magic user, and their will force will become an extension of yours.”  Merlin looked back to him, fists no longer burning, then he looked to the pile of ashes that used to be another wizard.  “I must teach you fast, before the final life flees from that wizard.  You must then try your best to kill my son when he comes.  Your the best hope for the future.”


   He was in a large library now, his library, he reminded himself.  He had drained the wills and powers from the entire staff, and college that it serviced.  There was no one now who could face him directly.  He supposed even Merlin would be humbled by his power.

   Merlin thought it would be better to show him exactly what it took to overcome the simplest of spells under Merlin's control.

   The wizard rose from his feet, being held aloft by a simple magic hand spell.  “What the.?!”

   Merlin appeared before him, only inches away, well within grabbing distance.  All it took was a touch to drain any wizard's power.  Surely merlin know that, being the one who taught the spell?

   The wizard tried to dispel the mage hand, and reach for Merlin at the same time.  The mage hand did not release the wizard, and the wizard's hand waved harmlessly through Merlin.

   “You disappoint me.  I saved you, and you sit in a library, reading books.  I said you needed to absorb all the power from living wizard you find in order to defeat my son.  Try harder.”  Merlin stood there motionless.  The voice coming from all around the wizard.

   He blinked, and found himself sitting at the table still reading a book, with the very uneasy feeling that something terrible had happened, and he did not have nearly enough power.  Time to hunt again.


   I have killed so many, it is starting to torture my soul.  These are the thoughts that went through the Wizard's head.  All in a wild game for Merlin, on some killing his son?  How insane is that?

   Merlin appeared again, as he always did when the Wizard had doubts.  “Wizard, why do you think of such things?  You live one life, and when that is over, you will live in my eternal heaven.  My son, he will bring pain much greater than you ever will.  What you do now is not even thread of the weave compared to my Son's destruction.”

   “Then stop him yourself.”  The wizard was never really sure why Merlin did not do this himself in the first place.

   “I can not, First, he is not yet born, and second, if I do, a better future will not yet emerge.  I have things I must to to make the world a better place, a happier place.  If I kill my son, I will not be able to do these things.”  This was only half of the truth, Merlin couldn't actually kill his son anyways, what father could do a thing?

   “Merlin, what is in it for me?”  The wizard was exasperated, giving in.

   “You will become so powerful absorbing my Son's powers, that you will become a God.  Someone I can no longer torture.”  Hopefully that would be enough, Merlin thought.


   Moroch opened his eyes and breathed deep, very slowly, the air still too thin the the cave to do much more than think simple thoughts.  Like how his Father, the Loving Merlin, had conspired to kill him, His own son, not once, but for over two hundred years.  He had allowed the deaths and tortures of thousands of wizards.  His own Father.

   The air thinned further from Moroch's racing pulse, ignited by the thoughts of horror and disgust.  What had Moroch ever done to his Father that would force him to act in such a way?  Or, rather, what was he going to do that would cause him to conspire so?

   Ah, but sleep was much more interesting than revenge and betrayal right now...  Moroch had to sleep, his head hurt so much from the lack of Air, but sleep still would make it all go away.

   Who would have thought...

Chapter Twelve: Deceiving Truth

   Pwyll, Master of Puppets, Lord of Deception.  Greatest of all Gods.

   Evil etched those words into Pwyll's mind, making it difficult to ignore, or think of much else.  It was what Pwyll wanted, and would most certainly be exactly what Pwyll would get.

   Meantime, the Elder races were busy casting the spell to “awaken” Evil, which wouldn't really so much “awaken” him, but rather “Create a plane of lesser elder beings and free them completely from Fate, Drama, and Luck, then make Pwyll their God.

   The more complex part of the spell was actually the part that changed Pwyll from the God of Deception to the God of the Underworld Plane.  Which wasn't too much of a change in an odd twisted sort of way, since Evil knew many people would misunderstand the Underworld Plane.  Well, so be it, in the end it would be the catalyst for freeing the mortal races from their eternal bondage with his brethren's wills.

   The spell's power grew and soaked the area, gently providing an ambient brilliance to everything nearby.

   Pwyll blinked for a moment, never remembering ever actually seeing Evil.  He looked towards the presence of Evil, and was astounded to not really see much of anything.  Particularly in this strong magical white ambiance, there was nothing.

   Horror struck Pwyll, and his gut turned.  Something was not right.  The magical energies swirled around the Elder races, and Pwyll, violently, chaotically, against each other, tearing into each other, colliding, in a violent maelstrom of light and white-capped waves of magical forces.

   Where was Evil?  The entity that had started this process was nowhere to be found, yet wasn't he supposedly trapped?  It didn't add up.

   The white waves of magic became stronger, and beat against each other, and against Pwyll, splashing as if water, disorientating him, getting in his eyes, and blinding him.  These forces of magic were stronger that what Pwyll could ever remember feeling.

   They were certainly stronger than anything he had ever created himself, or knew how to control.  He knew now that the situation was completely out of his control, and he did not like it one bit.  Yet the waves kept crashing against his body, from different angles, splashing, and suddenly engulfing him as if he was dunked into a river, it's current pressing him down, and in a direction.

   He panicked and tried to breathe, but found nothing but magic to inhale, he was being drown in a sea of magic, and could not help himself, the tides so strong they kept him from returning to where he was, and the undertoe so powerful, it kept him from leaving by any means, all he could do was let it drag him under and press down on him with it's weight.

   Perhaps, he thought, he could ride it out, just hold his breathe, lie down, and let it wash over him.  Yes, that would be very easy to do right now.

   However, he was the Master of Puppets, he would not allow anything to ride him down to the ground, to sedate him into submission.  No, he would control this, he would learn, and channel it to do his own bidding.  Thats what it was to...  To...

   Pwyll looked to his hands.  They were open in front of himself, ready to grasp something, but not sure as to what was to be grasped.  Who was he?

   What was he doing here?

   “Pwyll,”  A strong voice came from the ambient and violent forces of magic around, “You will find that the task before you may not be an easy one.”  Pwyll looked up, not sure what to expect from the white magic surrounding him speaking to him.  “Pwyll, you have become so powerful, and you command three races of powerful, free beings, all of whom worship you.  The universe is your to take.”

   A smirk came across Pwyll's face, and he laughed, slowly, not sure of what he was laughing at, then more, his laughter causing ripples in the textured magical waters around him.  Why had he not seen this before?  Those stories about Evil.  Evil did not exist, and never did.  The spell those Elder races were casting, that was merely a spell to give him greater power.

   He had tricked them into giving him their powers, and they had fallen for it.  Such a foolish, desperate bunch, they were.  No, so clever was he.  They weren't foolish, he was just that clever.

   He laughed, hysterically.  The time was ripe to test his new powers.


   Dimly, through their intense concentration on the task at hand, The Elder Reptiles, Flames, and Gelatinous creatures heard the maniacal laughter fight from the bright magic choking them and their very life forces from their bodies.

   It occurred to them that they may have been tricked.  It was too late at this point but Evil had assured them that some day, some day the world would be a better place and their offspring races would prosper, live in harmony, and find peace within themselves and others.

   They would be the light of the universe.

   What they had not asked, and did no want to know, was how long into the future this might be.


   Merlin sat on a magical floating wall above pitch black nothingness, waiting.  Evil besides him, both fairly thoughtful, but keeping their thoughts to themselves.  For the most part.

   “You suppose he suspects?”

   “Not one bit.”

   “Really?”

   “Yeah.”

   The nice thing about being so magically in tune with everything was knowing what was going in in the relative vicinity of your existence.  Such as the thoughts of others.

   “You think he'll figure it out?”

   “Before he dies?  Yes.”

   “Interesting.”

   “I thought so too.”

   “Will the others ever forgive me?”

   “Yes, but they will never understand.”

   “I can't show them either, can I?”

   “Only if you want them to change the outcome, unwittingly.”

   Neither of them really knew if the other one was just reassuring the other that this was the correct course of action, or whether they spoke the truth these days.  The truth was a fickle thing when you made to come true what you wanted the truth to be.