The Return

Yallum's Tower rises from the cold windswept ice of the island like a dark crag of stone carved from the earth itself and then forgotten. It may appear to hunch against the cold; but in reality the dark stones embrace it: everywhere inside the tower Cold seeps through the cracks and sills, haunting the corridors and empty rooms with it's rendered breath.

Yet no room is colder than this one. It is empty save for the three gathered there: the man chained and passed into unconsciousness by one of Yallum's powerful magical strikes, his chin slumped forward onto his chest; Fae, slunk into the far corner by the door, too wary to come any closer, yet too hungry for the magic to leave; and Yallum, at the very center of the room, heedless of the cold or the danger. Before him, on an obsidian pedestal, sits the skull gleaming cold and sinister in the meager torchlight. To Fae, when she dares glance at it, it appears to be grinning.

"It is time," Yallum says, his hands outstretched to place on either side of the skull. At his touch the dark sockets of the skull seem to grow brighter, the bared grin to grow wider. "My son would not follow me back to Yoran. I could not persuade him of the power to be ours; he is too far under my sister's thumb. And I could not trick him to it; he escaped my clutches with that damned amulet and now I can't touch him."

Yallum pauses, stroking his thumbs along the skull's brow, a distracted look on his face. "And now," Yallum continues, grimacing, "I need to return to Yoran. My magic is so much stronger there; yet I don't have time to wait another 100 years before casting the gate again. I need someone to do it for me…."

Yallum suddenly refocuses his attention on the skull. Fae notices for the first time that it has taken on a dull green light as if lit from within.

"Of use to one who possesses the knowledge to use it, dear Uncle," Yallum sneers in amusement at the skull. "I traveled long and hard to find you for this task. Blood and bone, as one again…" He grins, tightening his grip.

Fae watches as Yallum closes his eyes and all at once she can feel it. Even as the sickly green light blazes forth from the skull, pouring from the eye sockets, leering mouth and other openings, filling the room with its power and outrage, she can feel it: Chaos magic. A din of wailing voices rises in echoes through the room. Yallum's arms tremble under the strain to contain the power emanating from the skull; otherwise his face and voice betray utter calm.

His voice rises to be heard over the howl of the skull: "Skull of Mondain! I hold you between my hands in defiance of your power! It is written in prophecy that only one possessing true art in chaos magic may defy you thus. I do so!  It is also written in prophecy that the One who can do so controls your power. I do so now!" The skull blazes with the green light and Yallum's arms jerk under the strain of keeping his grip, but he manages to do so. The room rings with his voice once more:

"By the power I now possess, I summon you!" Yallum's face contorts with determination. "Heed me and obey! I demand it!"

All at once there is a loud crack as of thunder and lightening in the room and all is suddenly darkened and quiet. Fae blinks her light-bedazzled eyes and tries to focus. It takes a moment, but then she notices that the chained man, the man she'd lured away from the Keep, is no longer bound. Instead, he lies upon the cold stone floor struggling to push himself up onto his forearms. Yallum, his arms removed from the now quiet skull, watches with narrowed eyes and stands over the man, unhelping.

"Stand up," he says coldly. "Let me look at you."

Struggling, the man pushes himself gasping first to his knees, then, panting, to his feet. He sways, reaching out to the wall to steady himself. He is weak, physically, but when he lifts his head Fae can see that the face has somehow been contorted. The eyes, cold and considering, take in the room, piercing Fae in their pass, then settling on Yallum.

"What have you done?" the man asks. He is panting, but the voice beneath is strong. It is not one Fae recognizes. "Why do I feel so weak?"

"Don't worry," Yallum replies. "You will get used to the body in due time. As for what I've done…." Yallum's face takes on a sly proud smirk. "Why you should be proud. I've done what should be impossible. I've done what no one else can, because I alone know how. I've rent the Ether and recalled a banishment. None but the strongest Chaos Mage can do it, and with the help of Mondain's skull, I did." Yallum pauses, still smirking, waiting for his words to register on the man's pale face. When they finally do, Yallum manages a small mocking bow:

"Welcome back to Sosaria, Father…."