Venefyxatu's first incarnation ...

[Venefyxatu]

A small introduction : this was one of the first stories I wrote about Venefyxatu, and was first posted on the AMBB. Now that I'm starting to sign up for quill quests (and because there's another project being planned ... ) I decided it might be useful to dig it up again.

Honestly, though, I'm not quite satisfied with the ending so I might redo it - one day And then there's the fact that I have some thinking to do about different incarnations and how it works, parents, real births and returning as an adult Archmage, etc ... my brain starts hurting just from writing this down

 

Anyway, the story ...

 

 

 

Clouds were racing across the sky that night. Every now and then the full moon broke through, shining on the dead wastelands that Terra had become after the MageWars. Even had all mages not been spending some time in Hell now, there was nothing left for them to fight over, nothing left to destroy.

Except... in a clearing in a deep but dead forest, a small hut stood, surrounded by what seemed to be the last green trees in Terra. It was made out of wood, with a roof of moss and grasses. Inside the hut, in the only room, a small fire was lit in the fireplace. The room didn’t contain much furniture: a table, one chair and a bed, that was all.

In the bed was a woman, holding a baby not a day old. The woman, Lienna, was thinking how lucky she had been. The birth had been easy, and even though her child weighed abnormally little, it was a healthy boy.

Suddenly the boy opened his eyes and stared at the door, a vague smile on his face. Lienna turned her head but saw nothing. By now her boy was smiling broadly, obviously delighted by something he was seeing. He reached out for something, even though there was nothing. Even though she found this strange, Lienna didn’t feel uneasy, as if the unseen presence was radiating some sort of comfort.

Suddenly her son gave a delighted cry and went back to sleep.

 

19 years later...

 

“But why do you have to go, mother?” Gunther looked questioningly at Lienna, standing in the middle of the room. He had grown quite tall, but was still incredibly thin. Despite that, he was quite strong from the work he did around the house.

“Because the trees are calling me. You know that, I’ve told you so many times it would happen one day. It happens to all who use the arts of Verdancy magic, but are not powerful enough to be called archmagi. And today it is my turn.”

Gunther nodded with reluctant acceptance. For nineteen years he had lived here in this hut, together with his mother. She had taught him all he knew, including a basic knowledge of magic. It would be empty without her. “Will I ever see you again?”

Slowly, Lienna shook her head. “No. Not the way I am now. What I am going to do today can be compared with the dying of normal humans. Even though I’ll live on.” She smiled at him. Suddenly, as if the thought just crossed her mind, she said: “Three days from now, head north from the doorstep. Stop at the first living tree you come across and cut off a staff. It will be the last thing I can give you.”

Gunther walked over to his mother and hugged her firmly. “Thanks mother.” he whispered in her ear. “Thanks for everything.”

Lienna smiled and freed herself from his grasp. Then she walked out, but stopped to turn around at the doorstep. “Don’t forget the things I taught you, and you’ll be allright.” With a last smile, she turned around and walked north into the forest, quickly vanishing between the dead trees.

Gunther looked after her, an incredible feeling of loss welling up in him. Suddenly it hit him that he would never hear that funny yawn of hers when she went to bed, that he would never hear his mother repeat her sayings again, like that the greatest deeds can only be achieved by opposites working together. That had been her favorite. Strange that such trivial things seemed suddenly so important.

Every bad thing might have a good use according to her, but he couldn’t find it here. Did that mean that this was not a bad thing or that he hadn’t searched hard enough? Slowly he went out to get water from the well.

 

Three days later he stood on the doorstep, ready to head north. He made sure he had his knife with him and started to walk, still wondering whether his mother’s departure was something good or something bad. He was thinking so deeply he almost bumped into the tree. It was a big oak, seeming to sparkle with life.

“This one surely is alive.”, he mumbled. He found a suitable branch and started to cut it off. When this was done, he sat down under the tree and started to carve a staff out of it, letting his imagination run wild as he carved patterns in it. He was so deepened in his work that he didn’t realise how long he had been outside until darkness started to fall.

Quickly he got up and started to walk back to the hut. At least his staff was finished, and he felt a strange comfort coming from it. Almost as if he wasn’t alone anymore.

When he got back to the hut, the full moon was high in the sky. As he looked up at it, he staggered as if hit by a fist, so strong was the memory that suddenly flooded his mind.

He was sleeping safely in his mother’s arms when he woke up because of the sound of the door opening. He smiled vaguely at the person coming in, a young girl apparently in her twenties. His mother turned her head, but saw nothing. As the girl walked over to him, smiling, he smiled back broadly, delighted. He stuck out his hands to her, and she took them gently in her own. Then she bent over to him and whispered a single word in his ear: “Venefyxatu.” He gave a delighted cry, liking her voice and the sound of the word. Then he was suddenly too tired to stay awake, and went back to sleep.

“Venefyxatu” he whispered. And suddenly, as he realised what it was, he was struck with terror. “My magename. I’m an archmage!” His voice was hoarse as he realised his destiny. He jumped in surprise as a soft voice behind him said: “Yes, you are.” He whirled around and saw her. The same girl that had given him his name. And now he knew who she was, too. Moon, the Light in the Night. He knelt, bowing his head. How do you address a goddes when she appears in person? Can I get up or will I have to stay like this until she leaves? he wondered. He didn’t have to worry. She solved his problem quickly by pulling him to his feet and giving him a book.

“To find ‘your’ magic type, study this. Do it as soon as you get inside, and don’t let yourself be distracted until you have read the entire book. Then turn back to the first page and concentrate on the image on it and everything it summons in your mind. You will feel when your choice is made, whether you are aware of it’s outcome or not.” As soon as she had said these words, she vanished.

Gunther, or now Venefyxatu, walked in the hut and absent-mindedly put his staff against the wall. He sat down on the chair his mother had made for him and opened the book. It was full of a spidery writing that he recognised from his mother’s magic-lessons. It was far more complicated than what she had taught him, though, and skimming through the pages, he couldn’t read half of what he saw.

How am I supposed to study this if I can’t even read it?

Not ready to give up, he started on the first page. He thought he had recognised the first word, and he was right. He recognised the first word, and the second, and suddenly found himself understanding all he was reading. It was so logical! How had he not understood before? He read on fascinatedly, finding out that what his mother had taught him was but the beginning of the beginning. When he finally finished the book and turned back to the first page, the sun was already rising again. He didn’t notice. He only saw the image on the first page; a pentagram with a symbol on every point, every symbol a different color. Black opposite white and green, white opposite black and red, red opposite white and blue, blue opposite red and green, and green opposite black and blue.

For many hours he just sat and stared at it. Then he got up quietly, took the book with him, picked up his staff, and walked away. He was still Gunther, but now he was also Venefyxatu, archmage of the Nether Convent.

It took him five days to get out of the forest. He came out of it so suddenly that it surprised him. One moment he was walking amidst trees, the next he was looking out over a wide landscape with soft hills, covered with crops. In the distance, he could see a great city.

Maybe I can start there... surely there must be books left from which to study some spells. Optimistically, he started towards the city.

The walk was longer than he had anticipated. By the time he reached the city gates, the sun had already set. And the gates were closed. Hesitating only a moment, he banged the door with his staff.

“No entry after sunset!”, a voice from the other side yelled. “Come back tomorrow!”

“All I want is to find me a place to stay! Can’t you make an exception?”, he yelled back. “No exceptions! Find yourself a nice soft rock, make yourself comfortable and above all, SHUT UP!” This was followed by laughter that faded slowly away as the guards walked away from the gate, to their favourite inn. Gunther made himself as comfortable as possible on the hard ground. After all, he had been sleeping on the ground for several nights now, so one more or less didn’t matter.

The next morning he was awakened rudely by a boot hitting him in the ribs. He jumped up, grabbing his staff, ready to defend himself. He was facing an unshaven man with a beer-belly, wearing the uniform of a guard. “You can come in now. And don’t let me see you sleeping next to the road again, we don’t need beggars here!”, the man said in a harsh voice that Venefyxatu recognised as the same one from last night. He glared at the man but held himself back, knowing that all he could do was get himself in trouble. Especially with three other guardsmen watching.

As he passed the guard to enter the city, he felt his arm being grabbed, and he was turned around roughly. “Eyyyy... wait a moment. What’s that you got there?” The guard’s face was close to his own now, and he could smell a stench he would later learn to identify as beer from last night.

“A staff, sir.”, he answered, wondering whether all people would be like this.

“I can see that you idiot! Let me get a look at that!” With these words, the guard made a grab for the staff. In a reflex, Venefyxatu drew back, holding the staff out of the guard’s reach. The man grinned, showing a set of rotted teeth.

“Right what I thought... a filthy mage and his staff.” He spat on the ground and beckoned his colleagues over before continuing. “I’d rather have a whole army of beggars inhere than one mage. You’re not getting in, and to make sure you don’t forget, we’ll give you a little reminder.” Immediately he reached out for Venefyxatu’s arm again, but instead got the staff’s head in his face. He staggered backwards, clutching his jaw. Meanwhile, his three companions were advancing on Venefyxatu too. Acting purely on instinct, he made a fist out of his hand and then opened it so quickly the fingers never seemed to move at all. At the same time he spoke a few words he had never known before.

The reaction of the guards was extremely satisfying. With a yell of surprise, they flew backwards until they smacked into the city wall, were they remained, three feet above the ground.

“Never... lay your hands on an archmage.”, he said in a low, soft voice. If all other humans were like this, his moral objections to war would be easily solved. As he passed through the gates, he closed his fist again. The guards dropped to the ground with a few dry thuds.

He didn’t look back, which was a pity, because he might have seen the elf who came from a narrow alley and started to follow him. On the other hand, he might not have seen him. Everybody else seemed to be looking through him, although they walked around him without seeming to realise it.

The elf was pale-faced, with completely white hair. He wore a black robe, without any ornaments, and under his left arm, he was carrying a spell-book. A thin smile started to form on his lips as he mumbled softly to himself: “Perfect for my plans...”

Venefyxatu, not aware that he was being followed, made his way through the streets. A few times he stopped somebody to ask directions to a library, but the politest answer he got was: “Bugger off, mage. We don’ wan’ your kind ‘round ‘ere.” Every time he walked on silently, and every time the dark elf’s lips twisted into a smile.

Finally he got to the library. His mother had told him they could be big sometimes, but he had not expected it would be this big. The building was completely constructed out of white marble, and was five floors high. Through the many large windows he could see shelves loaded with books in all sizes.

Slowly he made his way to the doors, opened them and entered the library. The dark elf waited outside, leaning against a wall. He didn’t have to wait long. Suddenly, the doors flew open and Venefyxatu came out, obviously steaming with rage.

As he was about to walk past the dark elf, the latter pushed himself off the wal and planted himself in front of Venefyxatu. “Greetings, sir. I have the impression you have a slight problem. Might I be so bold as to ask what?” Venefyxatu stopped, slightly amazed to find out that at least one person wasn’t about to turn him away.

“Well... if you really want to know... I have just, for the first time in my life, met other humans. Instead of treating me like a human, they seem to think I’m some kind of slimy insect that has just crawled out from under a rock. When I finally get to the library and ask for books about magic, I get laughed at, made fun of, and threatened. Not exactly a very successful first meeting I’d say.”

“Indeed not... but to study you do not need the library. They burned all the books on magic right after the Armageddon anyway. Come with me, and I shall teach you.”

“And in return?” Venefyxatu asked warily.

“In return? You let me be your advisor.”

Venefyxatu accepted, going straight against his intuition. He couldn’t have made a bigger mistake.

 

The dark elf introduced himself as Listonar and took Venefyxatu to his house. It was a small, wooden shack in bad need of repairs. It was the first of two times he would go through the door. Listonar never allowed him to go out, “because it wasn’t safe”. Venefyxatu accepted.

It didn’t take him very long to realise that something was wrong. The feeling started weakly, but it became stronger and stronger, until one night (although for different reasons, they both felt more comfortable at night, so they worked at night), after about a year, Venefyxatu couldn’t stand it anymore and talked to Listonar about it.

“Listonar, when are we going to do something real?”

The dark elf raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean... I have the feeling that I already know most of the things you’re teaching me. I want to learn some magic I don’t know yet.”

Listonar thought for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision.

“Very well. Tomorrow we leave. And I mean by day. Now try to get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

After a few short hours of sleep they got up, packed the most important books and left, Listonar with a big and mysterious roll under his arm. Once they were well outside the city, Listonar stopped and put the roll on the ground. “We go through the air.”

He unrolled the magic carpet and sat down on it. “Have a seat.” Venefyxatu barely sat down when Listonar made the carpet fly away. During the flight, Listonar explained that they were going to some land that had not yet been claimed by a resurrected mage. That would be the start of his... Venefyxatu’s realm.

They landed on a desolate rock-plateau. High above them, an eagle soared, it’s cry echoing off the barren mountains. Far below them, cattle were grazing in the fields, so small they were almost not visible. Very far in the distance, apparently rising up out of a forest, he could make out the contours of another mage’s tower.

“That will be the first thing you need.”, Listonar said, following his gaze. “A tower. Concentrate the way I taught you and follow the lead of my voice.”

The way you taught me? My dear Listonar, if I would try that, there’d be nothing left of me but a purely evil mage without mercy in no time. You’d like that far too much. Venefyxatu planted his feet firmly on the ground and put his staff before him. He closed his eyes, raised his face to the sky and started to concentrate on the magic in the air, on guiding it through his body and staff, on becoming one with it. Almost immediately, he felt the familiar burning sensation of magic running through his veins.

On Listonar’s face a look of horror appeared. “By Satan, not like that! It’ll send you straight to Hell with a spell of this size!”

Venefyxatu didn’t hear him. He clenched his left hand into a fist, and opened it slowly as he raised his arm, once more uttering words he hadn’t realised he knew before. The platform began to shake under them, almost causing Listonar to loose his footing. Venefyxatu stood straight, apparently unaffected, constantly muttering, his eyes closed. The dark brown hair framing his face seemed to be bleaching rapidly while his already thin body became even thinner.

Something began to rise up out of the ground. At the same time, clouds blacker than night itself were beginning to pack together over their heads. As Venefyxatu’s hand rose higher and higher, so did the tower. It rose to meet the black clouds, out of which lightning was flashing constantly now, earthing itself through the tower.

Suddenly, as his left arm was pointing upwards, he raised his right arm and slammed his staff in his left hand, holding it horizontally with both hands. A ray of what can only be described as pure darkness came down out of the sky, enveloping the tower completely. It looked like a piece had been cut out of reality to reveal the dark dimensions lying beyond.

And suddenly it was all gone. The darkness, the clouds, the lightnings, everything. Venefyxatu staggered, and brought his staff down just in time to stop him from falling. His eyes were still closed, but from exhaustion now. His hands were almost skeletal, and his hair nearly white. His veins were still burning a little, but it was merely a vague echo of what he had felt during the spell.

Listonar immediately turned to him. “By Satan, what did you think you were doing! That almost got you killed!” The dark elf’s face was twisted with rage. Venefyxatu opened his eyes and looked at Listonar, who gasped slightly. In all of his long life he had never seen eyes like that before. They seemed to be endless, burning black pits. The voice he heard was soft, and terribly tired.

“But it didn’t kill me, did it? I survived. If you don’t mind, and even if you do mind, I’m going to get some rest now.” With that, Venefyxatu turned around and entered his tower.

In the years that followed, Venefyxatu learned the real magic he had been longing for and got control over quite a realm, but the price was high. He felt constantly tired and was continuously struggling a darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. At the cost of his population, he summoned a huge army of undeads. Even though it was Listonar who talked his objections away, even he was impressed by the amount of troops Venefyxatu could not only summon, but also keep in existence.

One evening when he woke up, Venefyxatu had a strange feeling, as if something special was going to happen that night. It kept distracting him, but he couldn’t quite identify it. And suddenly it suddenly struck him. He was staring at another tower from a window in his study. At the moment the moon rose over it, it was as if a voice in his head spoke to him. “An alliance. But why? I’m not at war with anyone, and those few attacks that are made on my country I can easily block off. Why should I form an alliance with anyone?” He didn’t even realise he had said these words aloud until he heard Listonar’s voice answer.

“Indeed, why should you form an alliance with another mage?”

Venefyxatu turned around, the only sounds being the rustling of his robes and the soft thud of his staff being placed on the floor again. His face was as relaxed but with the same tiredness in it as ever when he answered the elf. “I have no idea, but my intuition tells me I should. So I will.”

Listonar laughed, which was a surprisingly pleasant sound. “With the owner of that tower? The Lady Drake?”, indicating the tower Venefyxatu had been staring at with a nod of his head. “Don’t hope too hard. It’s an Ascendant mage. To that kind, you’re nothing more than filth. She’ll probably not only reject your offer, but come and push it through your throat until you choke on it, too. That is, if she doesn’t get crushed by an ant, first. You’re not going to get any advantage out of an alliance with a weaker mage, just trouble!”

Venefyxatu pulled his lips into a slightly bitter, crooked resemblance of a smile, the closest he ever got to smiling anymore. His voice was as quiet as always when he answered. “Then so be it. My intuition is rarely wrong.” As he spoke these words, he suddenly remembered how he had accepted Listonar’s training - straight against his intuition. He walked past him out of the room, leaning heavily on his staff. As the dark elf saw him leave, a look of worry appeared on his face. If the fool wants to waste himself away by not giving in to the magic, so much the better, then I don’t have to get rid of him. But he does have to stay alive long enough to be of use... Shrugging these thoughts away, he left the room too, to go over his plan again. The alliance might turn out to be an extra problem, and he wanted to be prepared. So close to the end, he couldn’t let everything be ruined because of a weak Ascendant mage. Unless of course he could turn it to his advantage...

Meanwhile, Venefyxatu had found one of his liches. He led the creature to his study and wrote the letter to ask for an alliance. Then he looked up, the tiredness that was so obvious only moments ago hidden perfectly. If the undeads would start thinking they could overpower him... but that were thoughts to be avoided. He handed the letter to the lich with the instructions to deliver it personally, and wait for an answer. It took the note, bowed, and went out.

As soon as the door closed, Venefyxatu leaned his head in his hands, his mask gone, and sighed deeply. So tiring... He didn’t know how long he sat like that, when suddenly he heard commotion outside. Taking up his staff he walked down the stairs and out of the main gates of his tower. The commotion was caused by the regiments of his army that were stationed around his tower attacking a small group of lesser angels desperately trying to defend a woman riding a pegasus. The woman was trying to cast a spell, but she couldn’t concentrate, as her pegasus had to keep jumping away from attacks.

“Stop.” Coming from his throat it was a mere whisper, but it was enough. None of the undeads could disobey the power behind it. A few of them howled at having to give up an easy prey, but they, too, backed away. Venefyxatu bowed slightly, which gave him the time he needed to compose his face again. “My apologies to all of you.” Looking directly at the woman, he said: “I assume that you are the Lady Drake?” She nodded a bit coolly. “Indeed I am. I must say that this was not what I had in mind when I thought to propose an alliance between us.”

“Again, my apologies for this. The undeads tend to get aggressive around Ascendant magic. It shall not happen again.” With these last words he looked her straight in the eye, his face a mask of calmth, his eyes deep black, seeming to burn from within. The doubt that appeared in her face vanished immediately when she met his gaze. “Come, follow me. Listonar, you take care of the pegasus.” On impulse he added: “And I hold you personally responsible for it.” The elf frowned. He was sure the shadows in the hall had hidden him from view. And why was he suddenly demoted to stableboy? Would he suspect something? Impossible!

Meanwhile, Venefyxatu led his guests to one of the more comfortable rooms in the tower. Although nothing showed on his face, he couldn’t hide the tiredness in his step. The Lady Drake noticed it but said nothing.

As they sat, Venefyxatu spoke: “I take it that you accept my offer?”

“Your offer?” She looked genuinely amazed. “I have received no offer.” Venefyxatu frowned. “I have sent ... “ Only then did he realise something felt wrong. He closed his eyes and mentally reached out for all of his liches. One of them was missing, and no matter how he tried, he coulnd’t find it. “Blast. More problems, just what I needed.” It was quite under his breath, but the Lady seemed to have sharp ears. She looked slightly worried for a moment, but still said nothing. “But if you have not received my offer, then what brings you here?”

“I wanted to propose an alliance. With our borders joined, I’ll be able to defend my country better.” Venefyxatu smiled, slightly less bitter than usually, but still nothing like what his smile used to be. The matter was agreed upon quickly, and orders mentally passed to armies immediately.

Later, as the Lady and her escort were about to leave, she looked at Venefyxatu, giving voice to the worry that had appeared in her face earlier. “Is everything all right?” He managed something like a smile. “Of course. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” She didn’t look convinced. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I’m Ascendant, let me help.” Venefyxatu began to shake his head, but stopped, getting an idea. “Good. But I ask of you that you draw upon my energies. I have reasons to believe it will have more effect.”

The Lady looked a bit surprised, but agreed. She put her hands on his forehead and started to concentrate. Almost immediately they could both feel the energy flowing. And almost immediately, it stopped. The Lady pulled her hands away, stumbling backwards, her eyes wide. “How can you stand that! The burning, the filth, the lure, it’s horrible!” Venefyxatu simply nodded. “I know. Why do you think I’m constantly tired? It did seem to work though. I feel better than I have in years, and you probably don’t even notice you’ve been practicing magic. She nodded, surprised to find that it was true. “But why?”

He smiled. “My mother was right... the greatest things are achieved when two opposites work together. I think our alliance will be a good one.”

That turned out to be right. Reinforcements were sent both ways, and once the armies had gotten used to one another, they fought together better than anyone had ever thought possible. The trouble going through the world because of the breaking of the seals was unable to damage either of their countries. Until the day Listonar was finally sure his plan could not fail anymore.

The Lady Drake was arriving for a meeting, and was as usually welcomed by Listonar. She still didn’t trust the elf completely, and felt quite uncomfortable around him, but she let him lead the way. Unlike usually, he didn’t lead her into the tower, but over a path through the mountains, to a small platform. Just before walking onto the platform, Listonar stepped aside to let her go first. “My master has asked for you to wait here for him. He shall be along shortly.” She nodded and stepped on the platform. Immediately she spun around, a mixture of anger and surprise on her face. “What...?”

Listonar simply smiled. “It’s just a shield, don’t worry. Weak or not, I don’t want you interfering.” Then he turned around to wait for Venefyxatu, knowing he’d come here. He didn’t have to wait long.

The mage was coming up the path, leaning heavily on his staff, followed by an unholy reaver. Listonar’s eyes went wide with terror, for as soon as he saw the creature, he knew that he’d made a mistake, that he should have chosen somebody else. It would be all or nothing now, most likely nothing. “Ah, master.”, he said in a mocking tone. “I see that you have brought a playmate. I must warn you though; if something happens to me, or you do not exactly as I tell you, the shield shall contract around your Lady Drake and kill her.”

At that, Venefyxatu smiled, a strange mixture of his bitter, crooked folding of his lips, and the smile he had when he was still Gunther. Softly he said: “What shield, Listonar?” The elf waved his hand, indicating where he had placed his shield: “That...” He stopped abruptly as he felt it being dispelled. Venefyxatu didn’t hesitate. Glancing at the reaver, he said: “Escort her home.” The creature bowed, and there was no pretending to it. It was truly loyal, something no mage had ever accomplished before. To the Lady Drake, who started to protest, he said: “Don’t protest, you’re needed there more than here. Go.” Seeing the look in his eyes, she gave in and went with the reaver.

Listonar, meanwhile, started to cast another spell, but Venefyxatu raised his hand, dispelling it before it was complete. “You’re easier to read than a book, Listonar. You should have hidden it better, or have been satisfied with your position as advisor.”

“Advisor!” He spat the word. “What’s the use of being an advisor if your advice isn’t taken!” With these words, he launched all the power he could gather straight at Venefyxatu, not bothering to use a spell with it, intent on destroying the mage. The latter threw up his arms and, slightly altering it, reflected the power to the elf. His eyes went wide again, and he started to scream when the power hit him. For a moment, he was a glowing outline, and then he was gone. So was all the sound for a brief moment.

It came back with a black column of energy coming down from the sky. Venefyxatu saw it coming and knew that, for the first and last time, his instincts had been wrong. He was in the middle of the last seal breaking, the start of the Armageddon. Knowing there could be no escape, he leaned on his staff, lowering his head, and mentally ordered his army out of his country, to the borders of Lady Drake’s. Then he was hit, and there was nothing.

 

Floating around in a void, he saw a familiar face appear. For the third time he saw Moon, the Light in the Night. She was shining brighter than ever. “You have unleashed the Armageddon.” He nodded, or at least did something as close to a nod as a spirit can get. “It would have happened, whether I did it or not. And I will probably do it again, somewhere in the future, even though I don’t want to. Is there no way to release me from this curse?”

She shook her head. “No. Only Magic, the Mistress of Chaos would be able to do so, and she does not. All I can do is make it a bit lighter for you. But you are doomed to continue with this forever.” As she was speaking, she became brighter and brighter, until she was too bright to look at. Then everything went black, and he knew nothing but that one, terrible word.

Doomed.