Ahrden materialized at the exact same spot he always came to when he needed to practise one of the more destructive—or simply spacious—spells he had been studying. In the beginning, he had chosen this part of the forest for several reasons, the most important being that it was the furthest from any inhabited land. After studying it for some time, no hunting routes led through it, but just to be sure, he erected wards around his practice area to keep the wildlife farther away.
Ahrden visited this place quite often, and he never had any trouble with people showing up, although if someone were to come here, it would certainly be a sight the individual would never forget. Over the many occasions throughout the years, Ahrden had successfully eradicated almost all life in the immediate surroundings of the spot he had just teleported to. He had cut down trees, lit them on fire, or lifted the earth out of the ground—all to practise the limits of his capabilities with certain spells. The more he came back, the more damage he was able to do and the more satisfied he became with the results. After many years he was able to wreak major havoc, so he started to pay active attention to minimising his footprint on the area, but there were some spells where the whole point was to create a lasting mark, which he, at some point, had to try out on the environment.
On this occasion, he came here to try out a new and complex spell while practising others he already knew but hadn't mastered yet. In theory, the new spell he came here to cast was a ball of energy that could suck everything into itself from its near vicinity. The spell itself was complicated, and the power level needed to cast such a spell was a solid purple, so, on paper, the spell should have been out of Ahrden's reach, yet these indications never stopped him from trying.
Ahrden didn't bring anything with him; he knew the spell, he knew the required movements, he had practised all of it a million times before. Now all he needed was to actually do it. This spell belonged to the family of spells that couldn't be scaled down after a certain threshold; therefore, it required a great deal of energy to set it in motion. Spells belonging to the other family could be cast with only a breath of arcane—creating only the slightest effect—or with enough to shake a whole mountain. Since this one could not be cast using only a diminutive fragment of arcane, Ahrden could only practise it in theory so far.
Ahrden looked around, happy to see the familiar yet ever-changing environment, which he was actively reshaping every time he came here. Based on what he knew about the spell, he wished to leave this place with significant changes to the current scenery. He started walking forward, stepping up and down on the once-molten but now solidified piles of rock and carefully manoeuvring around the deep holes scattered around the artificially created clearing. Rotting fallen trees still lay everywhere, and with practised movements, Ahrden jumped over each. He wanted to go a bit farther so that he could cast the spell in the middle of the already present epicentre of the past destructions, keeping the hopefully coming demolition to a relative minimum.
As Ahrden walked, he went over the required steps he needed to perform to summon the spell, checking and rechecking that everything was ready. When he reached the spot that he was going to, he looked back and nodded in satisfaction. He then sat down on the ground, crossed his legs, and started meditating. With closed eyes, he sat there motionless, falling so deep within himself that he was completely unaware of the light morning breeze and the warm rays of the sun on his face. Being in the moment, everything melted away for him but arcane and his will. He didn't rush it; he wasn't impatient. With practised precision, he aligned the two realms until they were in complete harmony.
Focus, devotion, and determination. Ahrden possessed everything a mage needed to become the perfect weapon. When he opened his eyes, blue fire burned in them. He got up and wasted no time as he began the fluent motion of the casting along with the chanting of the incantation. As he performed the specific steps of the spell, he felt his power manifest in a way he always felt when he successfully wielded the arcane forces. He would have been excited about these minor achievements—had he not been completely immersed in the process.
Ahrden was straining from the effort to command enough arcane energy to keep the spell going, but he didn't falter. He kept pushing through, despite his legs starting to become unsteady and regardless of the growing worry within himself. With all the power needed for the spell, he knew that it would be something grand, but when he actually channelled these energies, the magnitude of the powers at play became worrisome.
After the last part of the incantation was said, Ahrden threw his arms forward for the final part of the spell and, from them, a dark ball of arcane energy shot forth. It stopped some distance away and just hovered over the ground. The ball of energy itself looked dark—awfully dark—and hummed in an evil pitch. The surface swirled slowly and maliciously, if such a thing could even be said of it. What surprised Ahrden even more than the fact that he was able to perform the spell on his first try was the deep, dark yet vivid purple in his spell, which easily overwhelmed the remaining blue in a way he had never seen his spells do.
As the ball of energy travelled, small bits and pieces of the debris lying around on the forest floor flew to the orb and stuck to its surface. However, when the hovering arcane sphere stopped, the spell's full force activated, and the immediate forest around it felt it dearly. The now-active force should have manifested right after the casting, but Ahrden could not fault himself for such a minor detail after he had just successfully cast a spell beyond his current power level.
When the deep, dark bluish-purple arcane ball stopped, it sucked everything and anything to it. Objects such as rocks, twigs and dirt flew so fast that they shattered to pieces on impact. Moments later, Ahrden heard loud cracking and saw that several branches of the nearby trees snapped off and flew towards the now completely covered spell. The already fallen trees started rolling on the ground, then jumped to the flying debris, snapping at multiple points to wrap around the growing ball as much as they could. Ahrden marvelled at the power of his spell when his legs slipped out from under him, and he was dragged along the ground as the radius of the spell grew ever larger. This took him by surprise, and he needed a second to recover from it, but then he quickly teleported to safety—out of the reach of the spell.
Ahrden just stood there watching as the forest came to life with everything bending, snapping, and coming out of the ground to ever increase the ball, which just kept growing. Huge rocks slowly rose from the ground and, once loose, flew towards the now immense ball of hovering natural waste and smashed into it, creating a ripple that travelled through its surface.
Ahrden noticed, moments before the first healthy tree snapped in half, that the trees surrounding his spell were bent at an impossible angle, and all were destined to eventually break in half and join the rest. The tree which had already suffered this fate accelerated as it neared the floating pool of waste and broke to splinters when it finally crashed into it. The sight slightly frightened Ahrden, and when he started hearing the loud cracking of the other trees, he decided that it was time to end his spell before things really got out of control. Unlike most other spells that had to be fed to be kept alive, this spell needed to be actively halted.
Ahrden forced calm on himself and dismissed the spell with precision.
Nothing happened. Panic bubbled up in him, but he contained it immediately and performed the gestures he had learnt to cease the spell. When nothing happened, he repeated them numerous times afterwards, but by the end of it, half the trees at the edge of the artificial clearing had broken in half and were torn from the ground. The pull of the spell was increasing even where he stood now.
A wide array of possibilities started playing before Ahrden's eyes about how this could end, and he didn't like any of them. The problem was that, deep inside, he knew that he would not be able to stop the spell.
That was when he felt an ancient sting of dark magic lash across the forest and hit his spell from a distance Ahrden could not comprehend. The spell did not hesitate or try to live on; it died as it came into contact with this mystical, ancient power.
The floating rubble, which by then was as big as Ahrden's living room, came crashing down to the ground. With the immediate threat gone, Ahrden could observe his surroundings before needing to worry about how the spell had come to an end. The sound never fully ceased as the badly wounded forest kept on moaning even after its torment was over; the half-broken trees kept creaking as they decided whether to fall or continue pretending that they could live on like that. The pile itself was still crushing under its own weight, breaking everything into smaller pieces.
Ahrden was in awe at what he was capable of and how destructive one such spell could be. He vowed never to use it again unless it was absolutely needed, because he could only imagine how much damage such a spell could do if he were to cast it anywhere other than an empty forest.
As he stood in the same spot, still not quite believing the past events, he felt the hair on his back rise in a way he had never felt before. Moments later, he felt an intense chill on his skin, and something terribly ancient and powerful surrounded him. What troubled him most was that he sensed the power to be arcane, and as such, he could easily feel its nature—which was nothing but pure evil. Ahrden would have felt confident facing anybody at that moment, given the major display of his abilities. Still, what he felt approaching wielded powers Ahrden suspected even Kadelinas had never handled before.
As the powers around Ahrden intensified, he grew ever more anxious and felt that the power he was gathering in himself would help him little in the coming minutes. The spreading cold strengthened too, and Ahrden was considering leaving when he noticed a swirling cloud of black arcane in front of him. The arcane cloud itself was unnaturally black and radiated the same evil energy as everything else. The swirling intensified, and Ahrden watched as a cloaked figure formed in the middle of it.
If there was a physical manifestation of evil itself, it stood in front of Ahrden. Although he was unsure whether the figure had any actual physical form or was entirely made up of swirling black arcane energy, it definitely felt real. It wore a black cloak that hung loosely around its thin body. Its face was covered by a low-hanging hood that kept everything under it in shadow. Its hands did not show from the long sleeves, and its feet were covered in perpetually moving black mist, so whether it stood or floated remained unanswered. When it suddenly started moving towards Ahrden, it approached so fluently over the uneven ground that it ruled out all natural movement. Ahrden wasn't sure what neared him or why, but he felt terribly outmatched and helpless. He knew enough not to attack, and since he didn't see his opponent cast any spell, he simply decided to flee.
The familiar feeling surrounded him—the one that always did whenever he teleported—but it was abruptly stopped as he was yanked out of the process of dematerialisation. Ahrden wasn't sure what had happened; the world was spinning around him, and he found himself on the ground after what felt like a bone-crushing fall from somewhere high. He tasted grass and blood in his mouth, and his whole body was aching. He had only been stopped once mid-teleportation—when he fought the beast—but even Kadelinas' spell required a sample of his blood. This time he didn't even see the figure cast a single spell, let alone draw his blood, yet he could not get away from him.
When Ahrden got to his feet, the cloaked figure was not far from him, but at least it was no longer getting closer. Now it started speaking in a hoarse, guttural voice, which was obviously not used often, if at all.
'We finally meet at last,' the cloaked figure said. 'We've been watching you. More closely than you can imagine. We have finally decided that you were worthy of our gift.'
Ahrden had many questions, yet all seemed forgotten when the stranger mentioned the word gift.
'Gift?' Ahrden asked, but as he did, he realised that he shouldn't have.
'Gift.'
As the figure said that, it raised its arm, the end of the hand barely showing under the long, loose garment. Ahrden could see wizened, bony, almost skeletal fingers, black as everything else and with scarcely any wrinkled skin on them. Distracted by the sight, Ahrden wasn't prepared when black fog shot forth from that hand straight at him. He had just enough time to cast a shield in front of himself, but upon impact with the black arcane it melted like nothing. The arcane beam hit Ahrden square in the chest, and he felt his body eagerly absorb it.
What Ahrden felt next was both wonderful and horrifying. He was flooded and filled with pure, raw power—more power than he could ever imagine being able to control—yet now it was all at his command. Casting that intricate spell earlier had filled him with pride and a sense of satisfaction, but all of that dwarfed in comparison to what he now felt capable of. The scale by which he had been measuring his progress—and subsequently his power—was redefined in that instant. He still didn't know what it felt like to be a pure purple, or imagine what pure orange could feel like, but what surged within him was something he could not fathom.
While all this was happening, other, less marvellous changes were taking place too. Ahrden felt his body go cold; all the warmth in it escaped as if the dark arcane were taking its place. This alone already scared Ahrden, but moments later a much worse process began. As the arcane took up more and more within him, Ahrden also started losing his feelings—or at least that was how it felt as the black mist seeped deeper within him. He desperately tried to think about things that meant a lot to him—Alia, his class, his home, Felinda—but with dreaded horror he apprehended that the emotions towards these things and many others were slipping away as he grew ever more indifferent to everything.
Whatever Ahrden felt about this transformation, he couldn't do anything about it, even if he wanted to. What scared him most was that, deep down, he wasn't sure he wanted to fight it in that moment; the sheer amount of power was just that overwhelming. When the flow of the black arcane stopped, it did so as abruptly as it started. No matter how much Ahrden wanted to focus on all the pressing things, the only thought that came to his mind was that he felt he could hold more of this power. This frightened and disgusted him—and with that, he noted that disgust was an emotion he could still experience to its fullest.
When Ahrden stood up straight and looked around, he felt energised, ready to take on the world, but the world was different. When he gazed around, he saw everything from a different perspective: every colour was desaturated, with all the vivid tones gone. Despite his love for nature, Ahrden didn't mind how the world he perceived had become significantly duller and instead marvelled at other changes he was discovering. When he focused, he could make out the arcane energies circulating within everything. Ahrden saw the arcane in the individual blades of grass, in the trees, and even in the rocks. Looking at his hands, he could see black mist swirling within his body, battling what appeared to be a far less intense or ferocious purplish-blue energy. Ahrden put together what was happening. Despite the many years he had spent acquiring his current power level, he felt indifferent about the foreseeable domination of his newly received gift over his hard-earned arcane power.
Ahrden raised his eyes to the cloaked figure standing in front of him. The first thing he saw was that the power flowing within the stranger was still leagues away from what had been given to him. Now, with his newly granted ability, he could look under the dark hood, and he saw a man in a state Ahrden could not understand. His body seemed dead, animated only by the arcane power within it, yet the figure still felt strangely alive. The body was gnawed and defaced almost beyond recognition, serving only to provide a shell for what lay within. The malicious figure was once a man probably as able as any who had somehow become what he was today. Ahrden was horrified, but the dread fled as, in the next second, he rationalised it to himself—how this was a fair price for the given gift.
Ahrden could make out the malicious face grinning at him. The evil mage was obviously watching how he was reacting to the gift he had just given him. Ahrden's biggest worry was whether his mind remained hidden from the other or not.
'We could give you so much more...,' the cloaked figure said. 'You would become more powerful than you could ever dream to be without our gift. No one could oppose you then.'
Ahrden considered the offer. By now it was clear to him that an Arcane Agent was standing in front of him—the one Kadelinas had warned him about. Even though everything happening was far beyond him and he was ridiculously outmatched, he still suspected that if an Arcane Knight were standing in front of him, things would be very different. Now Ahrden could finally see the enemy against which the great mage was creating an army. This was the encounter Kadelinas said he could survive, where Ahrden actually had a chance to live while rejecting the offer—the offer that he absolutely had to refuse. Now that Ahrden knew what the offer was, he had trouble deciding.
This seemingly average day turned out to bear a decision greater than any other, so Ahrden wanted to make a choice he would not regret later on. He thought about his life that had led him to this point: his nation, which had practically cast him out; the people who all contemned him; Kadelinas, who didn't find him powerful enough; his family, who could not accept his decision; and finally the Arcane Army, who sought him out for the very reason everyone else turned away from him. He wanted more of this. A place to belong. A purpose to serve.
With all the power that flowed within him, Ahrden could think clearer than ever. Despite the intoxicating feeling of dominance, he felt more down to earth than ever. His emotions were slipping away, but they were not yet gone.
'Who are "we"?' Ahrden asked.
He could see the unnaturally wide, sinister grin stretching across the pale face of the Arcane Agent. He knew he had Ahrden in his pocket, and he knew their ranks would greatly benefit from him.
'We are the will of the Arcane Lord—the means by which his vision manifests in this realm and all realms. We are on a conquest to turn this world into what it deserves to be; what it was always meant to be.'
'What's wrong with its current state?'
The question made the smile disappear faster than an outright attack would have. The Arcane Agent stepped back; his voice grew even rougher.
'Arcane. Arcane is what is wrong with this place. Arcane lies dormant in all living things and in many unanimated things as well. It is wasted. Arcane is meant to be used. We are here to harness it—to take it from the ones who cannot use it. With it, we grow ever more powerful, and we can use this power to create a new and better world where no arcane is wasted.'
'A dead world. Where only you live.'
'A perfect world. Where we won't just live. We will be gods.'
Ahrden didn't want to press the issue because it seemed that the Arcane Agent was too twisted to see that being all-powerful in a dead world missed the point of being all-powerful in the first place.
'Why not just take my power?'
'It is rare that arcane is used as well as you use it. Your existence aligns with the world we are building.'
Ahrden had his mind made up. No matter how promising and fitting everything being offered was, he could not stand behind the cause. He was barely feeling anything about what had once been important to him, but his mind was sharper than ever. He remembered the order in which he had thought back when the feelings were escaping him, and he remembered that, although he barely knew her, it was Alia that first came to his mind—not his class. He knew that everything he loved had arcane in it, and he would never have considered that to be wasted. A world where only the gods lived was not a world at all, but a mere Olympus with nothing but a wasteland under it.
Thinking everything over and drawing the conclusion that seemed right—without the justification of actually being able to feel that it was right—was one thing, but acting on this decision was an entirely different one. Ahrden knew he could not flee, he could not fight, so he either joined or faced the consequence of denying the Arcane Agent. The only thing that stood as a beacon of hope was that Kadelinas had foreseen such an encounter as a possible scenario, and what he told him was to reject the offer. He surely would have said something else if doing so meant certain death. Ahrden was unable to trust the mage, whose actions seemed like betrayal from where he stood at that moment. He decided to act upon his own instincts.
'How do I join?'
'Puny speck of dust. A disgrace to all that is arcane. When you talk to us, you do not assume you are the one in control. You do not assume you can outsmart that which is infinitely wise. You are nothing. Resentment oozes from you. You are not ready to join us, but killing you would be a waste, and we know you will change your mind. We know everything. You will join us. Time will show you that you do not belong with other people. We'll come back for you.'
The Arcane Agent lifted both of his gnarled hands and pointed his palms towards Ahrden, then cast the same spell he had when he gave Ahrden the power—but reversed it now. Instead of power bursting from his palms, the arcane exploded from Ahrden and came right to the Agent.
The process was so overwhelming again that Ahrden couldn't do anything—just wait it out. As the dark arcane left his system, he felt his emotions coming back to him just as the familiar, well-earned arcane power took control again.
When it was over, Ahrden felt empty, despite feeling so formidable before the arrival of the Arcane Agent.
'Don't disappoint us again—and remember: we are never wrong. You'll join us.'
In a swirling cloud of black arcane mist, the Agent was gone. Ahrden collapsed to the ground, panting, sweating, thinking.