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The Prophet of the Void

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Raspbery Ripple

Junior Member


His feet no longer touched the ground.
Arms wide, the young man tilted his head back and basked in the Shuriman sunlight. The dune he had stood upon shifted and scattered in the wind beneath his bare feet.
Pure energy flowed from the sun through him, around his hands, under him, into him.
He stayed like this for five hours, but to him it was less than mere seconds, time did not exist to him, cast aside, forgotten.
From this trance-like state he held the secrets of the Universe , laid out in front of him, should he choose to unveil them.
He floated through realms never seen by mortal eyes, distant galaxies governed by laws both benevolent and chaotic, some held fantastic lifeforms, others desolate wastelands empty of structure, only emotions ruled.
No man's mind could survive such mental voyages, but Malzahar was no mere man.
He knew himself to be the anchor of reality. the paramount of all beings to exist and that could not be allowed to exist.
His power was infinite, and when at last he unlocked his full potential he would settle a cloak of peace and compassion over all living things, flaying anarchy and dismay from all corners of the endless world.
These were the ideals he lived by, until, when exploring further than ever before, he felt a calling.
The sun darkened in his mind as he probed this new expanse, but try as he might he could not envision it.
He recoiled for the first time in fear, what kind of power could possibly rival his?
Whilst he let his guard down, the barrier thrashed under his force, sending him barrelling through into a... a... void.
The gates sealed behind him, and while he reeled in confusion he was set upon by strangling, choking leeches that drained the light from his soul, dismantled him and built him anew, tearing at his humanity as he careened into turmoil.
From his prison, his shaken mind could but watch as his mortal body fell to the sand surrounded by the ruins of a city, tall grotesque statues that echoed of the creatures that had broken him.
His immense power was now under the control of entities that should never become incarnate, and Malzahar could see the future he designed crumble and burn as it was replaced with horrific visions of gruesome violence and eternal wailing as the world he knew collapsed under it's own weight.
Spiralling into madness, Malzahar struggled against his bonds as his physical form opened its hollow, purple eyes, turning to the great cities of Shurima to usher in a new age of destruction.