Chapter 0 - In Memoriam

The gravel and dust crunched underfoot as a lone male figure walked among the ruins. He surveyed the former city with a mix of impression and anger. So this...this is what this great city had been reduced to. No buildings were left standing, and even some of the debris left over was nothing but ash. Ciaran Xanderson sheathed his wand in his tunic and sighed, looking around at what little was left.

That the city of Luxas had been destroyed beyond repair, he already knew. But this was something else. Not even dragons were this thorough in their destruction. In truth, he didn't think anything was. He almost wished he hadn't asked Wakeeda to teleport him here. But he had to see...had to know if there was such a thing as too much power, and just what it led to. He'd gotten his answer. To both questions.

The wizard knew what Ilyse Arvernus was up against now, and he hoped she would be able to measure up to the sorceress she was fated to fight. The thought of the elf caused a second, more carnal feeling to stir within him, but he disregarded it. The ruins of a destroyed city were not an appropriate place for such thoughts, much less such acts.

He closed his eyes for a moment but heard something. He concentrated on the sound and to his sorrow heard screams. Distant screams. Mothers. Sons. Daughters, fathers, friends, lovers, all calling out for each other, calling for help, for mercy, for- The screams stopped with the sound of an incantation and a wand swishing through the air. Ciaran's eyes shot open. His breathing was much heavier now. He felt a single bead of sweat travel down the side of his face.

That the arcane magic he'd used to help so many in his youth could also be used for this kind of slaughter... Ciaran felt sick to his stomach. With grief? Anger? He wasn't sure. He was sure that the people here, whatever their flaws, did not deserve what befell them. He wished there was something he could do to make it up to them, but he couldn't possibly match up to power like this. He was good; he wasn't that good.

An idea suddenly came to him. Maybe he couldn't give them justice, or even vengeance, but he could make sure they weren't forgotten by the rest of the world. Ciaran raised his arms either side of him, closed his eyes and whispered through the arcane: "Terra, God of Earth, please grant me your worldly power, that I may ensure this city's memory never fades." For a moment there was nothing. He worried his prayer had gone unanswered. But then he felt it: the rocks and dust and debris lifted at his command. "Thank you." he whispered.

He lifted them up and combined each one, using dust and ash to fill in the gaps. He turned the structure this way and that, smoothing out any rough edges. Something this important had to be flawless. After ten minutes of sculpting, Ciaran opened his eyes. A simple but large stone obelisk, 20ft tall and 5ft wide, floated before him. It expanded up to 5ft above the base leaving a blank space.

The wizard turned it over again to make sure he'd left no mistakes, but there were none. He carefully set it down at the base and infused it into the ground, ensuring it couldn't move. Satisfied, Ciaran knelt, took out his wand and pointed it at the blank stone plaque. Although he remained silent, his magic began to carve words into it:

IN MEMORY OF LUXAS.

A ONCE SHINING 

CITY DESTROYED BY

EVIL AND DARKNESS. 

MAY IT'S LIGHT 

NEVER BE FORGOTTEN.

- Ciaran Xanderson

There. Now this city would be remembered, whether by it's surviving people or by those who read these words of stone. He half-hoped that other travelers would read this and add it in other languages around the stone. He doubted it'd happen, but the thought warmed him slightly all the same.

Ciaran stood up. He didn't think he could stay in a place so many had died much longer. He could still hear the faint screams. He walked some meters away and drew a meter-wide circle in the ground with his wand. Close enough to a meter, anyway. After taking out a small vial of light blue potion, he uncorked it, poured the contents into the circle's outline and stepped inside.

The wizard looked up, taking one last look at the memorial and the city it now stood for. Ciaran closed his eyes before speaking clearly, despite the single tear rolling down his cheek: "Movere ad: Purofalia, Asmana." He disappeared with a bright flash of light blue, leaving behind only a memorial and a thin strip of grey fabric where his tunic had blown out of the circle.