Ascendance (Part 1) by Planeswalker  

The midnight moon cast a dim glow across the tree line of the forest that led to 
the shattered remains of a prehistoric stone clifftop temple.  
A flash of lightning in the distance was followed by a rumbling thunder and it 
was not long before the moon’s warm glow was obscured by dark rain clouds.  
The biting ocean wind blew around the dark purple cloak hiding the features of 
the watcher from the outside world, carrying the driving rain to hit upon 
ancient flesh.  
As he stood among the ruins on the edge of the Kelgazo Cliffs, he stood there, 
leaning against an ornate staff of dark grey metal, waiting.  
“Hmmmm...” he mused, “The storm IS coming.”  
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.” stated a voice from behind.  
The watcher turned to see who had approached him without triggering the 
proximity enchantments he had painstakingly set to allow him to prepare for any 
unwanted intrusions.  
“Ahh...  Corsara Reeven.  I ought to have known that a member of the assassin 
kingdom would have been one of the few people able to sneak up on me...  Perhaps 
I’m getting too old for this game...” stated the watcher, turning back to the 
churning waves.  
“Do not insult me and my kin, Ancient One, we are from the Holy Kingdom of 
Janju.  We are not common assassins who eliminate the unwanted for profit, we 
are the holy avatars who will deliver this world from the darkness that plagues 
it.” spurted Corsara.  
The watcher turned to the newcomer, only now taking the time to study the 
appearance of the young woman that stood before him.  
Really, there was not anything new to take in.  
The girl who confronted him, and girl was the correct word, for Corsara had not 
long celebrated the end of her teenage years, was dressed in the typical attire 
of those of her kind.  
The tight fitting white body suit, covered by a simple beige cloak, while 
showing off her neck-length raven black hair and striking blue eyes and allowing 
her unhindered movement during combat, offered her no protection from the 
driving rain that continued to soak her skin while the watcher stood there, 
silent.  
“I told you when we arranged this meeting that the weather would be atrocious 
for this evening, but you INSISTED that tonight was the only time we could meet, 
and why we had to meet on this god forsaken cliff, miles from civilisation is 
beyond me.” grumbled the girl, clearly unhappy with the environment.  
“Well Corsara, you were the one who wanted my assistance, so I had the privilege 
of choosing when and where I wanted to hear your plea.  I do have other 
interests other than listening to the whinings of a holy order, locked in their 
desperate struggle against the unholy demons that plague you, you know.” ranted 
the watcher, the sarcasm in his voice evident.  
“All I ask for now is that we seek shelter from the storm while you hear our 
request, Ancient One.”  
Bowing down to the watcher, the proud master at arms touched her right knee to 
the damp turf, “We at the Holy Kingdom of Janju know your time is precious and 
that you are immensely powerful.  Please...”  
The final word that left Corsara’s lips betrayed her true feelings to the 
cloaked watcher.  
She was a proud warrior, fighting for her cause and family, but at heart she was 
a scared child, afraid of what was to come.  
“Close your eyes, Corsara.” said the watcher gently, placing his hand upon her 
damp head.  
A hidden shadow watched as the ancient watcher and the infant warrior faded from 
existence.  

The duo reappeared under a grand arch, one way leading to a swirling madness, 
the other leading to a vast hall, built of the rarest stone, decorated with 
priceless artifacts from many many places and countless periods of history.  
Gasping for breath, Corsara stumbled to her feet and away from the cloaked man 
into the hall and towards a grand wooden staircase at the far end of the hall.  
“Stay away from me, you demon!” croaked the girl, the look of fear in her eyes 
breaking down all of her disciplined mental training.  
“One minute I’m your saviour and the next your damnation? Why your sudden change 
of heart?” questioned the watcher, advancing into the hall towards her.  
“You used unholy magics to transport us here, wherever here is!”  
Regaining some composure, she straightened herself up, and putting all of her 
power into her voice, continued, “Do not lie to me, you use the same demonic 
power as the Sect, don’t you?”  
The hall echoed with laughter, which soon died as the ancient watcher regained 
his composure.  
“Fine Corsara, I will tell you your truth, but be warned, it will shatter your 
faith in Janju.  It is true that I’m in control of great magical powers, but I’m 
certainly not demonic...”  
With a deft flick of his wrist, the watcher removed his cloak and flung it into 
nothingness.  
Corsara did not expect the ancient watcher to look so... young.  
He stood in the centre of his home, wearing armour of dark silver, framed by a 
purple cape and ten gemstones, each radiating a different colour and set at 
regular intervals in a line across the chest.  
He was clearly human, had skin as pale as milk, eyes of white pearl, looked no 
older than thirty and was clearly distinguishable from any other man by his 
complete lack of hair:  The man, whoever he was, was completely bald.  
“Would you like a seat?”  
Shocked by the fact the ancient watcher looked no older than her elder brother, 
she numbly nodded.  
To rid himself of his staff, the watcher flung it across the hall where an 
unnatural force grabbed hold of it, dragged it to a circular plinth in front of 
the staircase and set it spinning parallel to the floor.  
Free of his burden, the man clicked his fingers and to one side of the hall, a 
wooden door opened onto the study of a rich scholar, with two comfortable chairs 
opposite each other, next to a blazing fire.  
Corsara shambled through and seated herself in the chair nearest the fire to dry 
herself.  
“I’ll be back soon.  Help yourself to a drink.” the watcher said, indicating a 
trolley packed with assorted beverages, and walking off up his staircase.  

After half an hour, the man returned, now garbed in a simple robe of light greys 
and purples.  
Corsara, having had the time to compose herself, and having had a few cups of a 
hot drink labelled ‘coffee’, was more relaxed.  
“Okay.” she began, “I realise that you’re not evil, and I’m not in any danger, 
else I’d be dead by now, but I also know that you use the same magic as my 
enemies, and I really don’t think that someone as young as you is really the 
Ancient One that’s been in and out of history for the last three thousand 
years...”  
“I’ll start at the beginning.” the man replied, “I, am Aeon.  I’m quite possibly 
the most powerful being you’ll ever meet, or at least for your sake I hope I am.  
You live on Recanai, correct?”  
“Yeah...”  
“Recanai is just one plane of existence, one world of many in an ocean of 
nothingness.  Each of these worlds was created long, long ago, long before I 
came into existence, and I lost count of my age at six million years...”  
Corsara sprayed her coffee across the room, “HOW OLD?”  
“Six million years... at least.  As you’ve guessed, I’m not like you...  But 
we’ll come to that.  The realms of existence were created by the gods, but as 
with all beings, they had their differences, and they fought.  In the end, the 
hostilities ceased, and the gods settled down, for some to rest, where they’ve 
been ever since, but others took a more active interest in the activities of... 
mortals.”  
“And Janju is one of these gods.” Corsara finished.  
“No.” stated Aeon, “I’m sorry to say that Janju is not divine.  Some gods 
decided that the worlds that they owned was not enough, and sent out their 
believers, empowered by the core magics of their gods, to establish colonies in 
other worlds.  This practice continues today, and Janju was merely one of these 
believers who, armed with his holy magic, set up your kingdom.”  
“I guess it’s logical.  I always was skeptical about the stories of old...  You 
haven’t explained yourself yet, Aeon.”  
“Don’t rush me, I’m just getting to me.  Some of the more powerful and 
responsible gods got together and decided that something had to be done to 
maintain order, and hence the God of Time, Chrono, and the Goddess of Space, 
Aegis, produced a daughter, Libras, who went on to become the Goddess of 
Balance.  Sadly, some of the other gods were opposed to the actions of Libras, 
and warded their realms from her, limiting her power.  Fortunately, she 
conferred with her parents and they agreed that they would need a new tool to 
combat chaos, and they decided to imbue Libras’ young son with the power needed 
to make a difference.  Ever since, I have served my mother and my grandparents 
as the Herald of Balance, Guardian of Time and Space.  And Now that’s just about 
it.”  
“Wow.  That’s a lot to take in.  Why’d you tell me all this, when surely the 
leaders of my kingdom would be a better choice?” asked Corsara.  
“Two reasons really:  The first is that you were the one with the guts to ask me 
for my help, which VERY few people have ever done, and secondly I can feel a 
certain... spark within you:  Some people have a natural ability to survive 
movement to other realms and to accept the truth.  I feel that if I told most of 
your leaders that Janju was mortal, they’d break down and cry...”  
Aeon gave a wry smile, which Corsara warmly returned, Aeon offered her his hand.  
“Would you like the tour of my home, the Hall of Time before we get down to why 
we had this meeting?”  
Corsara took his hand, and felt a sudden surge of power empower her as she rose 
to her feet.  
“Yes, please.” she said, as quiet as a mouse.  

Jorven hurried down the Citadel of the Sect’s corridors as fast as his 50 year 
old legs could carry him.  
The scar across his chest was beginning to heal nicely and no longer slowed him.  
He was pleased with himself, as he had taken the initiative to summon a shade to 
follow the ninja that had been snooping around, ‘disguised’ as a member of Sect.  
“Hrrmmph.” he snorted to himself, “Disguise indeed...  Laughable.  She was as 
conspicuous as an ink stain in the middle of a key parchment.”  
In the great hall of the Sect sat the necromancer Sekrik.  
Seated in the ten foot tall granite throne that symbolised the power of the 
leader of Sect, he knew that no one would dare to try and seize what he had.  
For the custom of the Sect was that anyone could challenge the current ruler for 
leadership and the title of Grand Necromancer, but no one had dared try since 
Sekrik had come to rule after turning their last ‘king’ inside out.  
Jorven bowed to his lord as he entered the great hall.  
“Oh mighty Grand Necromancer, ruler of the Wastes and the Mountains of Fire, 
scourge of the Holy Kingdom of Janju, I beg your forgiveness for my intrusion, 
but I bring you news of great importance.” began Jorven.  
“Rise Jorven.” hissed Sekrik, “You know how little I appreciate grovelling from 
those under me.  I trust your news is good, old friend.”  
Jorven rose quickly to look at the twenty year old he had been tutor to for so 
many years.  
He knew better than to keep the only apprentice to surpass the master waiting 
for long.  
Sekrik had his black hair pulled back into a slick ponytail and was wearing his 
battle armour:  His black battle armour.  
Jorven pondered the meaning of his former pupil wearing the intimidating spiked 
armour he had worn when he had slain Estragas the Mighty to rise to power.  
He also decided he had better speak quickly, as his liege had started to test 
the balance of his favourite five foot long serrated Zweihander blade.  
Jorven cleared his throat and addressed his master, “Mighty Sekrik, I have news 
of the impostor who has been infiltrating our lairs over the past weeks.”  
“Do you yet have any evidence that she knows of my plans? Or are you looking to 
receive another swipe of my sword for mere conjecture?”  
“No my lord.” Jorven gulped, the scar across his chest suddenly tight, “I have 
actual evidence that she knows of our experiments to summon and command the 
nightmares of the dark gods.  Last night she met with the Ancient One, a man of 
reputed great power who has been known to show himself from time to time, and 
she was asking him to help the Holy Kingdom against us.  We know that she knows 
of our summoning plans, for it has come to light that one of my pupils had found 
her attractive and told her of our plans in exchange for a night of company...”  
Sekrik’s eyes narrowed to slits, “AND WHAT OF THIS PUPIL?”  
“He was found in his chamber with his throat slit by her holy dagger three 
nights ago.”  
“Then he got what he deserved.  Who was it? Kezrin? Or Morgen? Perhaps Trutem?”  
“It was Morgen, lord.”  
“Hmmm...  Not a great loss.  You have still not told me of how you know of this 
meeting.”  
Jorven looked smug, “I finally managed to summon a creature of the dark gods, 
Master.  Using your preliminary research, I summoned a shade, a minor shadow 
creature to follow her.  It came back this morning and reported to me what had 
happened.”  
“You summoned a creature Jorven?” questioned Sekrik.  
“Yes, my Master.  The shade was not my first successful summonation, but I 
believe that with some practice we can begin to call upon great beasts to raze 
the Holy Kingdom to rubble.”  
Sekrik let his blade fall to the floor and crossed his hands in front of his 
face, as if in prayer.  
“Master?” asked Jorven.  
“You summoned the unholy nightmares before me? So my tutor still has a few 
tricks up his sleeve.” Sekrik stated without looking up, “Have you kept records 
of how you successfully called these beings?”  
“Yes, Master.  My notes are in my study.”  
“THEN I HAVE NO FURTHER USE FOR YOU.  HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY RESEARCH AND MAKE IT 
YOUR OWN?!”  
“But Master, I...”  
“I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR YOUR EXCUSES.” interrupted Sekrik, “YOU DEFY ME AND PAY 
THE PRICE.”  
Sekrik closed his eyes and moments later, the scar across Jorven’s chest burst 
open, spilling the scholar’s internal organs across the great hall’s stone clad 
floor.  
Jorven’s head hit the floor with a thump, but he did not feel this, for he was 
dead before he reached the ground.  
Showing no signs of emotion, Sekrik leaned back in his chair.  
“So the girl and her kingdom knows of my plans...” he mused, “They will all have 
to be eliminated...”  
The grand necromancer stood to his feet and fastened a blood red cape to the 
neck of his armour.  
He glided from his throne towards the servants who witnessed the spectacle.  
“Would someone please clear that mess up before I return?” he asked 
rhetorically.  
With powerful strides, Sekrik left the great hall, heading towards the study of 
his former teacher.  

To be continued...  

Part 2
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