Rift In Finality
To the west, past the Great Forest, following the coastline of the Uyini Ocean, lies a place so remote, so far away from normal civilization that most people don't even know it exists. To the unlucky few who have been there, it is simply called the Dead Flats. For untold miles, there is nothing but sand, scrubs, and the occasional carcass of some animal who got lost and died of dehydration. And in the middle of this godforsaken place, there is a castle that so few know about that the number of people who know of its significance can be counted on one hand.
Shrieks filled the air of the barren wasteland surrounding the broken castle. The aura of decay and the stench of death surrounding the once beautiful castle only adds to the sense of evil and depravity that the charred and bloodstained stones of the keep emanate. And on a lonely hill, not quite distant but still remote and removed, separated from the main walls, sits a single tower, upon which many birds of carrion rest, staring out at the wasteland, searching for corpses of foolish warriors to consume.
Closer still, on the tower there is a solitary window, out of which looks the owner of this sad and lonely keep, a gaunt and frail man, aged, back held straight in stubborn pride, hopeful face turned towards what little sunlight touches this desolate place that the Wizard King Nivenrall XI calls home.
"Where did I go wrong, my master..." he mutters to a small statue, sitting on a pedestal next to him. He rubs it with his forefinger, respectfully wiping weeks, maybe months worth of dust off of the idol. The eyes of the squat statue are bright rubies, burning like fire from the deepest part of hell, gleaming as if hiding dark and ancient evil.
Nivenrall's fingernails trace a pattern in the dust, as his other hand waves over it and he mutters words of arcane power, the air itself crackling with the power of the spell. When he finishes, he bows down to the statue and genuflects, taking a knee, facing the now glowing object.
"Please master, I beg your forgiveness."
You have failed me for the last time, Nivenrall.
"But, mast.."
You will accept your punishment with what little honor your pathetic body still holds.
"I promise master, give me one more chance, I swear I will not fail again."
Silence! You have been given your chances Nivenrall, and you have broken your promises. I demand your sacrifice.
The man goes silent. "Yes master..." he finally mutters, hissing the words at the statue.
Pulling a sword from a rack near the window, Wizard King Nivenrall walks slowly to the window. He turns back to the statue, and spits contemptuously at the ground near it. "Master, you had better pray to the gods for everlasting life, for if you die, I will find you. And when I do, rest assured, you will pay for the things you've made me do this day." The aged wizard's eyes blaze with resentment, as a solitary tear runs down his cheek.
I tire of the theatrics, Nevinrall.
* * * * *
High upon the lonely tower, separate from the desolate keep, birds screech and take off into the dusk, startled by some unknown noise.
As they fly into the distance, the castle begins to fade, wispy shadows creeping from the ground, seemingly pulling the broken and charred stones down into the earth itself.
Soon the shadows fade, like a puff of smoke blown by the wind, and all that is left is the solitary tower, now alone it its timeless vigil, watching over the great wastelands that roll on for as far as the eye can see.
