The man stood amidst the barren wasteland. The earth he stood on was cracked and blistered, and the sky he stood under was dark and weary. This land was once a land of peace and life; a land of happiness, joy and community, but now it had become scorched earth; a land of society’s crumbling remains. The man took out a small stick, and began to draw markings on the ground beneath him. He did so with the preciseness and swiftness of someone who had been preparing for this one moment for a great long time. He drew circles, lines, and symbols of the arcane, as he prepared an enchantment that was diligently designed by mages who had only one goal in mind.
Once he finished, he realized that if this enchantment would correctly do its job, it would cost him everything. Every single thing he ever had, made, or cared for, would cease to exist.
The man had nothing.
He brought his hands to the broken earth, and began the ritual.
The man’s home wasn’t always what it now was.
Once, it was a land of joy and happiness, filled with love, excitement, and wonder. The world was filled with towns and villages, where both mage and creature lived in peace; even more so than peace, one could say, as they lived in perfect unison, living amongst one another as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The merman would trade with the centaur, and the goblin would eat with the mage. The mages would tell others of their magic tricks, the goblins would show others their incredible machinery, the merfolk would unveil magnificent works of art, and the centaurs… well, they just really enjoyed competitions, no matter of what kind. The man could recall once watching two centaurs try to compete at who was the least competitive, and the very entertaining hour he spent watching the ensuing discussion.
The man remembered the old world, and as he looked around his enchantment circle, he wondered why Her Majesty had chosen to forsake her believers.
Her Majesty was the one uniting factor amongst the different races.
She was their goddess; the lifebringer who created them in their image, and protected them from countless dooms. They were Her children, and so, they rewarded Her with respect, admiration, and following. With a body of silver and eyes that held within the entirety of the universe, she soared through the skies, looking upon her creation, and brought joy to those who were graced with her presence.
Until she abandoned them.
At their worst time of need, when the skies darkened, the ground shook, and a winged creature brought upon the wrath of the heavens, they called upon Her for her help. They called and called, and once She came… She left them to die, with not a single sign of remorse nor care.
Cities burnt to ash and an entire civilisation was brought to its end, as their lord looked upon her creation, and decided it wasn’t worthy of saving. A simple mistake which deserved to be discarded.
The few who would survive the apocalypse would rue Her name,
and spend the rest of their days consumed by hatred.
The mages were different from the other races that used to roam the land. Differently from the rest, their gifts didn’t come from their creativity, but instead from the knowledge bestowed to them by Her. The goblins could construct new machinery, the merfolk could think of new pieces of art, and the centaurs could do whatever they saw fit, but the mages were chained by the knowledge of their ancestor, as magic spells and rituals were very delicate and precise affairs. Or so they have been told.
Some of the mages, not content with only what has been done, and more interested in what could be done, ventured into a taboo research and tried to create their own spells. They were called heretics for doubting Her words, but lo and behold, they found rituals they were never told about. When a few researchers came with pride and joy to Her, amazed by the rituals they never knew they could do, they were greeted with punishments and suffering as She told the races to stop any sort of magical research for being distrusting of Her word. From that point onward, the researchers kept the secrets of their discoveries under wraps, away from Her surveilling eyes and Her believers’ wrathful guard.
Once the day of reckoning came, they discovered that those “forbidden spells” seemed to be the only thing that could repel the heaven’s wrath, and so, the researchers were the only ones left upon the old world’s remains. When they realized that those lifesaving spells were hidden to them by their goddess, and that whoever doomed their world must’ve known what spells they could and couldn’t cast, they soon understood who brought upon their end.
The rest of the researchers’ days were spent in agony. First, they tried to find some semblance of life upon their barren planet. They didn’t. Afterwards, they chose to research whether they could survive and repopulate the planet with the passage of time. They couldn’t. Finally, they started looking for tools to bring back vengeance upon their once benevolent lifegranter; handcrafted spells that would make their creator suffer for what She’s done. They had them, and all they had to do was put research into one final ritual.
They began to draw circles and symbols, trying to come with the last spell they would ever create. A spell so ambitious, so demanding, it would cost the lives of the entire planet to effectively cast. Not one of the survivors objected to the notion.
It was agreed that a sealing enchantment would be made. The sealing enchantment would draw upon their deity’s power, and bind Her arcane power to the planet’s core. It would take centuries to complete, as it needed to fully absorb the power of a god, but eventually, the planet’s inhabitants could have their retribution.
They were especially proud of this enchantment as it did not release any sort of magical trail. Unlike most spells, which gave off what was essentially a large beacon of magical aura, this spell simply changed the inherent core of the planet. She would never be able to know what caused her doom.
Once the planet’s last lives practiced the timing and preciseness with which to start the ritual, they sent themselves off to different corners of the earth, so the enchantment would bind the entire planet.
The man chose to go to what was once his hometown. Where it all started, he figured it should all end as well.
The man stood amidst the barren wasteland, and began drawing markings on the ground beneath him.