Through the ornamented stained glass window were streaming in the white morn’s glimmers, illuminating the room. They were catching on bookcases, full of old books, revealing the secrets of magicka long forgotten. Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, were dust clouds. The writing desk, located under the tall and narrow window, was fairly bowing on its thick and decorated legs under the quantity of omnifarious devices with unknown purposes/properties and mountains of paper. Surprising then, that the Master was able to find a place for his parchment and ink bottle amongst this chaos.
The Lord of the Darkness, was comfortably leaning back in his armchair, rereading a letter from his faithful servant. He scrutinised the letter once more to analyse its contents. He gleaned that his legion had suffered a defeat, ruined by a dead end in the canyon, in which they became entrapped by the enemy. They were decimated and those who survived, but failed to escape, were now in the foe’s prison. His Darkness gave a sigh, whereupon he seized his quill, immersed it in ink and stopped some inches above yellowed parchment. He started thinking the verbiage over. His black-feathered phoenix screeched, disturbed from its slumber by the sudden noise and movement. It stared at him for a while, its shining amber eyes, thereon again settled back on a perch located within easy reach of the desk and its heavy lids began to droop. His Eminence, after pausing awhile, set about carefully calligraphing the letters, which extended into words, then into sentences. He stopped the quill and read the drafted letter. Unamused, in one sweeping motion/gesture of his gloved hand, erased all he had written. He once again set about writing, when suddenly he heard someone knocking on the door. Irritated by an unwanted guest, he called a halt to his foregoing engagement and left the quill to one side. He invited the intruder inside and the phoenix, also frustrated, raised its beauteous head, in order to glare menacingly at them for interrupting his repose.
The door opened hesitantly, showing an uneasy youth. Dark hair was sinking on his nice-looking face, covering his hazel eyes. He folded his angel’s wings, which were black as night. Beads of sweat were sparkling on his visage, sometimes dribbling on the floor. His vestments were slightly ragged and dirty from dried blood. He curtsied delicately, bid his master good morning and began his narrative on another calamity which had ensued. He was asserting that a small faction of warriors had betrayed them on the first occasion, switching to the enemy’s side, which resulted in the canyon tragedy. The Lord of the Darkness was listening to everything carefully. When he finished, the ruler started to contemplate. He rose from the armchair. The youth cringed, being afraid of the wyte for bearing bad tidings, but his master walked up to the window, turning back to him. He looked at his garden, in which there were not any living plants and withered trees stretched their branches to the cloudy sky. Cogitating, he was observing a dull landscape full of grey. In the end he spoke, piercing the ruling silence. His voice was so frightening that the adolescent cowered and even the very shadows, inseparable from this room, seemed to be under his command. His Grace made a decision, which could turn out to be disastrous for his enemies. This time he will be a commander, he will step out of the shadow of oblivion and lead his army to victory, striking desolation on the battlefield, like times of old.
The phoenix screeched in agreement with his master’s decision and flew to him, opening its enormous wings and, with grace, landed on his arm. The Lord of Darkness murmured something to the bird and it nodded.
He stroked its obsidian feathers. After a moment, the phoenix surged up in the air and before the youth could blink, was passing him by with lightning speed. It flitted in the corridor, and then upstairs. Then it flew through a wide open window. Passing every eagle, it wound its way to the tree’s shadow, where it disappeared.
It emerged a while after from the gloom of the looming mountain. Down where insects roam was abound in endless legions of hideous creatures craving for fresh blood. The phoenix straightened its wings and screamed, foreshadowing the arrival of its master. Everywhence sounded battle cries.
