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With his long gray robes chaotically swirling about him in the cold, brisk morning breeze, he turned to face the massive oak doors that now stood closed, barring access to his inner sanctuary. With his ebony staff he softly tapped against them, barely touching them, yet the sound reverberated and echoed throughout the cavernous rooms beyond. Slowly as the hinges upon which the doors rode screamed in protest, the doors opened as if moved by an unseen hand to reveal only darkness. Into the darkness he strode, his footsteps echoing along the stone floors announcing his arrival, until at last he reached a door upon which was inscribed runes from ancient times. He hesitated and then pushing against it, it too swung open to reveal a small circular room that was empty save for an ornately carved chair of seasoned mahogany. At regular intervals torches lined the walls and their flames cast wavering shadows that danced upon the chair's surface welcoming his arrival. It stood facing an open balcony and as he moved towards it, a soft, light breeze blew into the room bringing with it wisps of fog. As he sat in the chair and gazed out over his domain, the breeze increased in intensity and soon he was buffeted by the wind, as though the wind itself sought to sweep him out onto the jagged granite peaks and the abyss below.
He remained steadfast and defiant, for he was its Master and he now commanded its allegiance. Slowly, silently, the Mist flowed towards him. It came knowing only that it was being summoned once more, irresistibly drawn to him, for the mist and he were forever linked, forever one. Only he could control it, only he knew what drove it and it was only through him that it survived. He smiled knowing that it could not resist, knowing that through the mist he would gain mastery over those who opposed him. He would subjugate and conquer them all and then they would believe.
Soon the wisps of Mist began to form at his feet, undulating as it grew to shroud him in a dull gray mist, forming a protective shell as wells as embracing him with adulation and obedience. Still it sought to escape from his control, but the call was to great, the need to demanding and slowly it's resistance faded as it was drawn closer and closer to him. He was it's Master, it's creator, for he is truly "THE MASTER OF THE MIST" and the Mist obeys only him... |
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