Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a golden kingdom blessed by the sun. The people of the kingdom prospered under the rule of their great king, wanting for nothing and living their days in peaceful abundance. They knew not sorrow, strife, or hunger. Then, one day, their happiness was shattered by the spread of a terrible plague. The plague was a black stain across the land, heralding death and destruction in every place it touched. Fields of crops wilted, magnificent cities crumbled, and the people were distorted and warped into monstrous forms. Even the gods of the world were powerless against the black tide’s corrupting influence. As the plague spread steadily across the land, the people cried for a savior, their tears soaking the barren earth. Their cries and prayers were answered when a hero was born, the last drops of divine power once held by the gods placed instead in this child, causing his very blood to shine resplendent gold. The people rejoiced, for the boy would deliver their salvation and lead them back to that era of unending prosperity. Wheresoever this sun-blessed child should walk, the black tide shall bow its ugly head and relinquish its deathly grip on the land.
Anaxa regarded the final page of the picture book with disdain.
How ridiculous.
Snapping the small book shut, he tossed it back into his large satchel. He had grabbed the thing by mistake earlier today when preparing his supplies for this outing. Honestly, he had forgotten he even had such a silly piece of childish literature in his library, and had only scanned the pages now to confirm that it was indeed as foolish as he had remembered it being. Reaching deeper into his bag, his hand found the book he had actually been looking for: a thin tome of spells. It was not his usual spellbook – that hulking mass of a book was so thick with additional parchment and flattened spellcasting components slipped between the pages, it could never be mistaken for any other. No, this tome was one he had discovered some time ago when delving into the ruins of a faraway castle that had long succumbed to the black tide.
Today, Anaxa would be testing out a few spells from this eccentric tome. The mage it had belonged to had apparently devoted her life to deriving a means to combat the plague with magic; something many had tried and all had failed. As evident by the fact that Anaxa now held her spellcasting tome, she, too, had fallen victim to the plague before her work could be completed. Such facts did not deter Anaxa whatsoever – even where failure stewed, there still was knowledge to be gained.
Anaxa now stood in the depths of the forest, an hour’s journey away from the cottage where he lived. Equipped with his quarterstaff and an oversized satchel that was filled with various books, reagents, and potions, he made his way further into a particularly dark clutch of dense trees and foliage. The thick canopy blotted out the sun and dampened the sounds of life one would typically hear in nature, replacing them instead with a pervasive, eerie quiet. Anaxa showed no sign of being disturbed by the ominous setting. Once fully engulfed in the shadows, he paused for a moment and raised his quarterstaff, chanting a low mantra in the special language of spellcasting. Both the staff and his eye glowed briefly, the shimmering green light illuminating the plants and revealing their slightly warped, shriveled appearances. Anaxa’s expression quickly lit up with certainty, and he pushed the decaying plants aside to hone in on a spot just ahead. Hand sweeping the last of the obscuring branches away, Anaxa uncovered what he had been looking for – a patch of black, corrupted earth.
Finally, he had found a trace of the plague on which to test the late mage’s spells. Though this region where Anaxa lived was a safe distance away from the epicenter of the black tide and its surrounding leagues of dead land, there were occasional small patches of corruption that appeared spontaneously in all corners of the world. After appearing, they would usually only manage to kill the nearby plants before receding into the earth once more, unable to be sustained without the driving force of the main corruption. Anaxa was glad to have located this patch before it happened to fade away. It was far safer to experiment with these small instances of the black tide than it was to venture into the true bulk of its territory – the droves of monsters and countless other dangers located there made the risk too great.
Clearing away some of the branches to have easier access to the area, Anaxa readied himself to begin spellcasting. He flipped open the tome to the page he was most interested in trying first – a sealing spell. The mage’s records indicated this spell had shown potential, but had unfortunately never delivered on the final desired result. The possibility of sealing the black tide away rather than attempting the more difficult tasks of cleansing it or otherwise identifying and destroying its source was understandably appealing.
Even with the mage’s notes to consider, Anaxa decided to first test the spell as written in order to get a baseline observation of what issues the magic was encountering. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved the components needed for the spell and prepared them accordingly. He performed the task with sure, steady hands, familiar with the use of each magical ingredient. The forest around him was still quiet, though in his focus he thought he may have heard the sounds of rustling some distance away, back from the area where the sun still reached. Likely an animal, one that would stay far away from this patch of black tide if it had any ounce of survival instinct. Finally, once the preparations were complete, Anaxa planted his feet firmly, raised his quarterstaff once more, and began reading the incantation written in the tome.
As he spoke, an ethereal wind began to swirl around the area. Sparks of light joined the dancing leaves and twigs that had been picked up by the air, and soon a multitude of shining orbs were circling Anaxa and the patch of black tide corruption. Anaxa continued chanting the spell, the wind now strong enough to whip his long hair into a chaotic mess. He paid it no mind, pushing on with the spell as the lights grew brighter and more blinding. Slowly, the orbs of light coalesced over the black tide, lowering towards the plagued earth like a divine lid. Anaxa redoubled his focus on maintaining control over his magic – everything seemed to be going according to the spell’s intended purpose. Was there really an issue with the spell, or had the incompatibility stemmed from the mage herself? Anaxa didn’t have the spare thinking power to consider these questions fully at the moment. The spell really looked like it was about to succeed, the barrier of light just inches away from sealing the corruption –
When the seal made contact with the black tide, a sudden burst of hot light and sharp wind exploded out from the area. Anaxa blocked his face from the harsh backlash of the spell, managing in the short moment of reaction time to shout out a different, simpler spell, one that shielded him from the flying debris. Still, the force of the explosion sent him falling backwards and tumbling through the rough underbrush. After sliding a moderate distance, he came to a stop and was finally able to regather his bearings. His head throbbed, the whiplash of the spell backfiring on him causing a physical toll on his body that manifested as a particularly harsh headache. After taking a few deep breaths, Anaxa was able to ignore the pain and move to get back on his feet. Gnarled roots tugged at his dark cloak, but he easily pulled the cloth from their grasp and rose once more.
Once he was standing, he looked back to the area he had just been blasted away from and saw – oh, dear.
The plague, once contained to the small patch Anaxa had initially discovered, was now spread across the area in a pattern that mirrored the explosion. It looked like a splattered drop of black ink, marring the surface of the land and already eating away at the plants it touched. This… wasn’t good. Granted, the overall surface area of the corruption was still relatively small, only spanning a few more feet in diameter than before. It likely would still fade away on its own, albeit more slowly than before. Still, for the spell to have failed in a way that caused the opposite of the intended effect was a frustrating shock. This kind of result had not been noted in the late mage’s tome, so it must have been something Anaxa did that caused the unexpected reaction.
Before Anaxa could consider what to do next, however, there was a sound behind him. Footsteps. Caught off guard, Anaxa turned around at the same time that the stranger spoke.
“Hey, what’s going on? What was that – ?“
The man’s voice caught in his throat once he got close enough to see the startlingly chaotic mess of black tide corruption. While he stared shocked at the sight of the plague, Anaxa stared shocked at him.
This man was none other than the Deliverer – the hero, the sun-blessed child, the protagonist. Phainon.
Fuck.
Anaxa was unable to stop himself from taking a defensive stance, gripping his quarterstaff and bringing it in front of his body protectively. The motion drew Phainon’s gaze to him, and once his eyes were upon Anaxa, a moment of recognition could be seen in their depth. This was bad.
Phainon spoke once more, his tone not nearly as innocently confused as it had been earlier, “What is this? You – I recognize you. You’re the so-called evil sorcerer feared by the villagers. It’s rumored you spread the black tide’s corruption for your own twisted gain.” Phainon looked back at the newly-spread plague, solemn conviction already filling his expression “I didn’t think it was true, but this…”
Anaxa internally cursed once again. This setup really was doing him no favors; this was perhaps one of the worst first encounters he had ever had with Phainon. He tried to advocate for himself, even as Phainon was already unsheathing his greatsword.
Anaxa spoke with confidence, unwilling to show weakness even in this precarious moment, “Shouldn’t a great hero such as yourself be able to see past unfounded rumors? I’ve hardly had a chance to speak at all, and already you have made your decision.”
Ah, that didn’t calm Phainon down at all. Anaxa really should try to keep a rein on his own big mouth in situations like this.
Sword fully drawn, Phainon leveled a righteously angry look at Anaxa, “You know who I am? Then, you should also know I cannot allow evildoers to wreak havoc upon the land unopposed. Prepare yourself!”
With the cry, Phainon lunged forward, the great hulking mass of his sword slicing through the air with terrifying swiftness. Anaxa had no choice but to take evasive action, rolling to the side to dodge the initial blow and immediately casting another barrier spell to block the next relentless swing that followed. This dance continued for some time, Phainon advancing with overwhelming strength as Anaxa dodged and countered to the best of his ability. Any of Anaxa’s attempts to start a dialogue again were met with more blows, Phainon resisting his ‘evil lies’ with perfect heroic poise. All the while, Anaxa’s mind was spinning with ideas on how he could possibly change the predetermined trajectory of this encounter. Phainon’s ruthless pursuit made it hard for him to think, but eventually he strung together a potential plan. It would be risky, but Anaxa was all too familiar with the deadly strength Phainon carried. Even if the man only intended to subdue and capture Anaxa here, fate had proven to be a wicked purveyor of Anaxa’s untimely demise.
Channeling enough magical power into a shield to make it last longer than just a moment, Anaxa used the time it afforded him to retrieve a potion from his satchel. Swiftly uncorking and downing the bottle in one go, Anaxa darted away before Phainon could react. He moved, running straight for the smear of black tide corruption. Predictably, the sight of someone rushing into danger caused Phainon to halt his attacks, his concern instinctual even for someone who was currently his enemy. It gave Anaxa enough time to make it into the sticky black territory unhindered by Phainon’s blade. Thanks to the unintended expansion Anaxa had given the plagued area, there was enough space for him to stand a safe distance away from the edges, out of Phainon’s reach.
Phainon followed only until the edge of the blackened earth, then glared at Anaxa, “Are you mad? Touching the corruption will turn you into a monster – or have you realized you are outmatched, and are now relying on the transformation to make your last stand?” Even as Phainon threw out the accusations, his expression was turning to one of confusion. Despite standing in the center of the plagued ground, Anaxa wasn’t changing at all.
Finally, Anaxa had some time to talk. The potion only granted him temporary protection from the black tide’s corruption, though, so he would have to make it fast. Even with the potion’s effects, he could still feel the putrid magic of the black tide crawling slick across his skin and worsening the headache he had desperately had to ignore during the fight with Phainon.
Holding himself as though nothing at all was bothering him, Anaxa regarded Phainon with a lazy smirk and spoke, “I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Anaxagoras, protege of the late sorcerer Empedocles. I am but a humble mage devoted to investigating the true nature of the black tide – I assure you our contention here was born of nothing more than a misunderstanding.”
Phainon stared at him incredulously. Anaxa continued before he could respond, negatively or otherwise, “If you want proof of my harmlessness, you need look no further than the spellbook at your feet.” Phainon glanced down, startled to see there actually was a book at the edge of the corruption, partially lost in the underbrush. “That is the tome I was just using. Should you peruse its spells, you will see they are all of a nature to contain or cure the black tide. I am no evil sorcerer, merely a secluded researcher.”
Slowly, Phainon lowered his guard and reached for the spellbook. He flipped through the pages, reading what portions of them were written in common script – the incantations and spell components themselves were illegible to Phainon in their ancient language. As Phainon took his time reading, Anaxa felt a cold sweat trickle down his neck and a sinking sensation of nausea taking root in his stomach. These physical signs indicated the effects of the anti-corruption potion would wear off soon; it truly was a very temporary protection. In spite of this, he stubbornly stood his ground and waited patiently until Phainon was finally looking back at him.
Phainon questioned him, “How can I be sure you’re not tricking me?” Anaxa silently rejoiced at the fact that Phainon’s tone was far less hostile than it had been before.
“All I have to back up my words are my own actions. If you would allow it, I can prove to you my good intentions.” Anaxa gestured at the corrupted ground beneath his feet, “I can admit that I did, in fact, cause this patch of plagued earth to spread – an accidental result of my failure to properly perform a sealing spell. I may not be able to undo this mistake, but I can at least set up wards around the area to ensure no passing travellers stumble upon this place and become corrupted in the process.”
Phainon continued eyeing him warily, judging the sincerity of Anaxa’s words. Anaxa wanted to sigh; this hero of his was such a fool, always prioritising noble behavior. If Anaxa really had been an evil sorcerer, Phainon would have been at risk the moment he lowered his sword to hear him out. By the time Phainon made up his mind, Anaxa was starting to feel the black tide’s influence eating into the flesh of his feet, the first signs of his potion reaching its limits thankfully hidden by his boots.
“Alright, you can cast the wards. But know this, if you try anything funny, my sword will be through your chest before you can even blink.”
A sharp laugh escaped Anaxa at the threat, “I’m sure it will be. Thank you for showing this insignificant mage such magnanimity, great hero.” He eagerly left the blackened earth, then, ignoring the sour look his words put on Phainon’s face.
Blessedly free from the uncomfortable, burning feeling of the black tide’s corruption, Anaxa set about creating the wards. He easily produced the spell materials from his satchel; this spell was one he performed with some frequency, and he always brought along the materials to cast it whenever he was on the road in case he came across such spots of plague. As such, he knew the ritual and incantation by heart, no need for a spellbook as guidance. He placed the spell components at four corners around the patch of black tide, Phainon watching his movements with a hand on his blade. Anaxa remained calm, convinced that maintaining his composure here was the best way to persuade the righteous man of his innocence. Really, Phainon was already too trusting. A smarter hero would have refused to listen to Anaxa, and could have easily forced him to remain in the black corruption, thus allowing him to deliver doom upon his own head.
Phainon had given him a chance, though, and that was all Anaxa had needed. He finished the preparation for the spell and returned to the edge of the black tide, standing near Phainon. Carefully raising his staff in a direction that could not be construed as threatening to Phainon, he began the incantation of the spell. The wind that rose this time was gentle, not wild as the sealing spell’s had been. The magic caressed Anaxa and Phainon, weaving warmly through the air and wrapping around the circumference formed by the four points of spell components Anaxa had laid out. Soon, each point was glowing, a shimmering iridescent wall of magic rising between the points like a protective barrier. The walls grew until they were tall enough to loom over even the largest of men, and then Anaxa finished the spell by bringing his staff down to the earth with a resounding boom. The wards flared for a moment before everything gently faded back into normalcy. The area soon appeared as it had before, the black tide still silently gnawing into the ground, but both Phainon and Anaxa could feel the magic of the wards hanging in the air, ready to repel passerby from this spot.
Finished, Anaxa felt a weariness overtake him. He had expended a lot of mana in a very short stretch of time; first the failed sealing spell, then the brief battle, and now the creation of wards. He took a moment to catch his breath, then finally looked over to Phainon. The hero seemed surprised; he was still looking at where the magical walls had been glowing between the wards, as though searching for a trace of them.
Anaxa called for his attention, “Do you believe me now?”
Phainon looked over and seemed to begin reassessing him, regarding him in a new light after all Anaxa had said and done. To Anaxa’s surprise, Phainon chose to smile at him before responding.
“I do. I may not be a mage myself, but I don’t think the magic of an evil sorcerer would ever feel as nice as yours.”
The words startled Anaxa. What in the world was this man talking about? He looked away from Phainon’s heartwarming smile, suddenly put off by the easy trust Phainon was showing him. Although he would have liked to point out that Phainon should be more wary of strange mages he met in the woods, Anaxa at least understood that doing so now would be nothing but detrimental to his own survival.
Leaning perhaps a little too heavily on his staff, Anaxa spoke to Phainon without looking at him, “I take it that means I am free to go now?” He made to start walking even as Phainon was in the middle of responding.
“Well, I’d actually like to – Woah! Easy there!”
Embarrassingly, Anaxa’s first step landed awkwardly on a protruding root that had been hidden from sight by the debris of leaves and earth. Normally he would have been able to maintain his balance easily, but the lingering damage of the corruption that had seeped into his feet, combined with the exhaustion from his low mana, caused him to stumble. Phainon easily strode to close the distance between them and reached out a hand to steady Anaxa before he could fall over.
Suddenly, Phainon was fussing over him, “Are you alright? I’m sorry, I attacked you out of the blue like that, did I hurt you anywhere? Or, wait, what about the black tide? How were you able to stand inside it without being corrupted?”
The renewed astonishment on Phainon’s face made Anaxa want to laugh. Had he really forgotten the feat Anaxa had performed until just now? Brushing Phainon’s hand away, Anaxa stood with his own strength – and the support of his staff.
“I used an alchemical potion of my own creation. It is still in development, of course. Currently it can only provide a limited period of protection against corruption. Once the formula has been refined, I am hopeful the potion could prove useful for anyone who may be living in close proximity to corrupted areas.” He started walking as he spoke, intent on getting back into the sun-lit area of the forest – the longer he remained by the oozing black pool, the worse his headache got.
Phainon followed close behind, his sword finally sheathed again, “Oh, that – that would be amazing, actually. Can such a thing really be made so easily?”
“Easily? No, it took a great amount of research and mana to achieve even the inadequate product I currently have. I will have to dedicate even more time and effort into reaching the desired results.”
“Do you need any help with that?” Phainon’s voice was polite, but there was a hesitant hope just under the surface.
By now, they had finally broken out of the dense thicket of trees and emerged into a bright clearing. At Phainon’s question, Anaxa turned to look at him. Phainon seemed genuine in his offer, his earlier threatening aura during their duel now reduced to nothing but an eagerness to learn more about the things Anaxa was telling him. The sun shone on him, the rays almost gleaming in a halo around him as though his very body was a holy statue. Anaxa sighed. He had managed to avoid his most pressing death flag, and now he had to address the next challenge: making sure this hero wouldn’t face the same doomed fate he had apparently succumbed to countless times already.
Anaxa reached a hand out to Phainon. In the moment before he spoke, Phainon looked at him with a surprised yet anticipatory expression, waiting with baited breath for what Anaxa would say.
“May I have that back?”
Phainon drew a blank, staring at Anaxa in confusion. Eventually, he followed Anaxa’s line of sight and realized he was looking at the spellbook still tucked under Phainon’s arm.
“Oh – Of course! Here…” Phainon managed to not flail too obviously as he handed the tome back to Anaxa. While he looked off to the side in embarrassment, trying hard to prevent a blush from reaching his face, he failed to notice Anaxa’s amused expression. The mage’s gaze lingered on Phainon for a moment before he turned around, tossing an invitation over his shoulder as he did so.
“If you are interested in my work, you are welcome to accompany me back to my home.” Anaxa walked confidently towards the break in the trees that lead back to the main road, leaving Phainon a few feet behind before the man finally processed what Anaxa had said. Phainon quickly picked up his own pace, following behind Anaxa once more.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be happy to accompany you.” The beaming smile on his face could be heard in his voice, Anaxa didn’t even have to look to know it was there.
Oh, Phainon, you have no idea how much trouble you are. But with my help, this loop will be different.