The old wizard sat on his armchair in front of the fireplace, ever staring at the flames as they consumed the last pieces of wood. This was more than a habit for the old man as it was his way of life for more than 1500 years. Living a secluded life in the mountains away from everything in this world, an unending torment, more dead than alive, yet unable to find relief in the sweet sorrow that death brings to all living things. More of a curse than a blessing, long ago he and two others, joined their souls and essence to the world to save it from destruction. Sacrificing everything, life, soul, spirit and even love, so that all living things would survive, he was now broken, a dark shadow of existence of his old self. No longer did he go out in the open as his companion did every single day, just before sundown. He just watched the flames flicker and with what little was left of his mind and sanity, hoped beyond any hope that one day the fire would raise up to consume him.
On his left stood a pedestal where a book lay open, dust covering its pages, it’s golden letters almost unintelligible. Many have sought this very book, even long before he was born, seeking the powers it possessed, for all kind of purposes, kind, honourable and evil, and many still seek it without end. The cabin where the old wizard lived alone with his companion, the large gray-bluish wolf he has raised from a cub, was, interestingly, the most secure place both in the world, and in the stars. The Goddess herself wouldn’t have been able to have hidden it better even if she held it close to her heart, tight to her bosom. No bird could fly this high to reach the top, no man, elf, dwarf, or other living thing on foot could reach more than the base of the enormous Nigmarosh mountains. Even the dead were forbidden to wander to this place of the world. Only dragons could reach so far and so high, but even so, this place, bound with magic so powerful and unyielding, filled their hearts with such a terror that drove them to madness. Humans from time to time, as ages passed, sent numerous expeditions and even whole armies trying to claim these mountains in vain, paying a heavy if not total toll in death. Such is the nature of men, unwise and forgetful of their own history and the powers of the world, yet full of hope and childish dreams that sometimes they manage to achieve beyond any logic.
Dragons, on the other hand, wise as they are, needed only see the strongest among their kind, Kernos, as humans called him, the leader of the Swarm of Dusk, he who was once ruler of the whole world, the one who challenged and fought the gods, cower like a sparrow and die in agonising madness trying to break the spell, to understand that this would be the one thing they could never do, not even if they could muster all the magic in the universe. For this was the very heart of the world, raised from the deeps of the earth and saved from destruction two thousand years ago by the sacrifice of a mage, a king, a dragon and the Goddess herself.
