The Darkest Hour

In the cold dark depths of space, an ancient evil stirs from its slumber... ***** "Wake up Varrus, your life is mine." Varrus slowly swam to consciousness. He opened his eyes to reveal nothing save the impenetrable black of space. The voice thundered inside his head. "So, you have come at last. I've been expecting you..." Varrus gulped. He could still feel the sharp stab of pain as he had died at the boy's hands. By using magic to evade death, he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. "Cease your trembling mortal. I am Skargyr and you are mine now there can be no escape. Worlds have lived and died while I have waited for someone of your qualities to find their way into my cursed prison. You shall know me now as your master." As memories of his former life slowly returned to him, Varrus regained some of his composure. "I serve no one!" he spat, "I am my own master." "Foolish mortal I am your GOD! Bow down and worship me and I shall consider sparing your worthless soul." Varrus felt his life-blood turning to magma, his body wracked with pain. To question the will of the voice had been a mistake. He had to make the pain stop. He had no other choice. He howled his subservience to the star-god. From that moment, his fate was sealed. Varrus' voice was barely a whisper: "What would you have me do my Lord?" "Destroy magic Varrus; bring an end to the threat of men to my plans. Stop their magicians and close their wells of magic so that at last I might be free. Do this my servant, and when the time comes, I might just spare your pitiful soul." Varrus shuddered as he considered the size of the task before him. Closing the sources of magic would be no simple feat, and even worse still, he knew his nemesis the boy would hold the key. "Boy," Varrus thought to himself ruefully. Such was the nature of time in this strange place, chances were the boy was already a man, and maybe even with child. He shuddered again as he felt the weight of the star-god's gaze upon him. "Your wish is my command master."