Dark Kael

A single moment, a hesitation, a choice. These things can alter the known course of events, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. The path not taken is often a source of regret… or of relief, for even the most incurious of beings cannot help but ask… what if? What if Kael had not met Elhain, and found something different in the caverns of Aravia after Queen Eva’s first Conclave? When Kael descended into the caverns beneath the capital city of Aravia, he wondered if he had made the correct choice in doing so. The caverns felt wrong, as if the very rockface seeped dark magic. But he mustered his resolve and continued his exploration as, above him, the renewed peace talks between the High Elves and Dark Elves continued. The network of tunnels and caves were ancient, as old as Teleria itself. Kael suspected that the magic he felt heralded some forgotten trove of mystical lore, and he was determined to find it. But the deeper he went, the stronger the pull of dark magic grew. More than once, Kael thought he heard his own voice echoing out of the gloom. At times, he thought he even glimpsed himself… his reflection, perhaps, cast in the dull crystalline growths that encrusted the deep caverns. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. Regardless, his other selves seemed to be leading him in one particular direction, toward the strongest concentration of dark magic. Soon, he found himself standing in a vaulted cavern, and staring at an unexpected sight: a staff of sinister design, floating within a murky crystal. It resembled his own after a fashion, but was far more ornate, and it fairly thrummed with power. He realized that he’d read of such an item before, in one of the ancient texts he’d studied so assiduously. It was called the Black Rod, and was an artifact created from pure shadow magic. Something about it called to him. A whisper in his mind promised him knowledge and power in equal measure. It told him that if he was brave enough to claim it, all his dreams would come true. Yet Kael hesitated on the cusp of claiming the Rod. For an instant, he thought he saw his future stretching out before him. What if he took it, and the power he sensed within it overcame him? He saw himself, garbed in fine robes and wielding the staff; his power increased beyond his wildest imaginings. He returned to his people and used his newfound might to break the grip of the noble families, free the serfs, and assume control of the Dark Elves. He made peace with the High Elves. But there was a cost to it all. The whispers of the Black Rod never ceased. Indeed, they only grew in strength as time passed. The fell magic contained within the artifact demanded a release, and it sought to twist its bearer’s motives into something base and self-serving, the better to secure that release. The more he wielded the Rod, the more of a hold it would have on him. Soon, it would be impossible to tell where the mind of the Black Rod ended and that of its wielder began. Kael would no longer be the mage he had been. Instead, he would be a locus of dark sorcery, twisting the world around him to suit his darkest desires. Or perhaps his spirit would prove equal to the test. Perhaps he would break the Rod to his will, and become the mage his people deserved. Only time would tell.