The Lizigan Tower of Wizdom shimmered under the waning moon, a fortress of arcane glass and rune-scribed stone rising like a spike into the cloud-wracked heavens. Within, nested in a cage of woven starlight, the Golden Bird – an eternal phoenix bound by spellfire and ancient law – sang a melody that bent winds and twisted fate.
Many had tried to steal it. All had failed.
But Mavren the Wind Mage was not like the others.
He floated high above the tower’s spire on a disk of stormlight, his sea-blue robes whipping in the gusts he commanded. Beneath his hood, eyes of storm and sky burned with mad ambition.
From a second direction, a darker force came – Kharox the Bonebinder, Necromancer of the Eastern Graves. He rode on a steed of stitched flesh and crow feathers, shadow billowing around his gaunt frame like a second skin.
They saw each other at once.
Both wanted the Golden Bird.
Both refused to share.
A silence held the air before the fury. Then –
“You stink of death,” Mavren snarled, hands weaving a cyclone between his palms.
“And you reek of arrogance,” Kharox replied, raising a hand wreathed in green-black flame.
They struck.
The tower shook as wind met rot, air shrieking with fury as spectral claws ripped through conjured gales. Mavren soared around the tower in rings, hurling spears of compressed atmosphere, shattering battlements and sending Lizigan guards scattering.
Kharox summoned bone serpents from beneath the earth, their teeth biting the air, snapping at the Wind Mage with horrifying precision.
One such serpent caught Mavren’s ankle mid-flight, dragging him toward the earth—but a thunderous clap sent both flying apart, craters forming where they landed. The duel raged on.
Lightning split the sky. Bones rained like hail. Spells lit the night in hues unnatural and terrifying.
From within the tower, alarms rang. The Lizigan Arcanic Guard – hundreds of battle-trained wizards and swordmages – emerged in flurries of teleportation and aerial mounts. Their armor bore the sigil of the open eye, and they unleashed it upon both intruders with blinding precision.
“They’re coming!” Mavren shouted.
“We can’t hold them both off,” Kharox growled, shadows oozing from his eyes.
They should have turned on each other. But survival overrode greed, and, for a moment, wind and death moved as one.
Kharox raised a wall of bone to block incoming arcane bolts. Mavren launched an updraft so strong it hurled soldiers from their mounts. They weaved through magic and steel, ducking behind crumbled towers, exploding traps in their wake.
Near the base of the Tower, the Golden Bird let out a mournful cry – its song faltering under the weight of chaos.
Mavren made a final dash for it, skimming over broken glass and screaming wind. He was within reach, the cage nearly open.
But Kharox, blood dripping from his mouth, tackled him from behind. The two crashed through a stained-glass wall, landing in the ruins of a forgotten garden.
They rose slowly, broken, burned, their magic fading.
“I’ll kill you,” Mavren coughed.
“After I gut you and raise your bones as my slave,” Kharox rasped.
Then, a flare of golden light struck the courtyard. The Golden Bird, broken free in the chaos, hovered in the air, its wings blazing with starlight. Its voice was no longer mournful—it was triumphant.
“You fools,” it spoke, voice like a thousand windchimes. “You think I can be owned? I am the storm that flies between ages.”
And then it was gone. A burst of light. A searing wind. Nothing but echoes and ash.
They had failed.
The Lizigan Guard surrounded them. The commander, a woman of silver plate and emerald eyes, stepped forward.
“You are both under arrest,” she said coolly, “for treason, assault upon sacred ground, and attempted theft of a divine being.”
Both mages looked at each other—bloodied, furious, but still breathing.
“You’ll never hold me,” Kharox hissed.
“You can try,” Mavren smirked, wind lifting at his fingertips.
Then, as one, they vanished in a burst of mist and black feathers – disappearing into the night.
Weeks later, their faces were plastered on every outpost wall from Stonebarrow to the Shimmering Coast.
WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE
Mavren the Wind Mage and Kharox the Bonebinder
Crimes: High Treason, Grand Theft Arcana, Destruction of Wizdom Property
Reward: 50 Gold Crows Each – Alive Preferred
They had become legends.
Enemies. Rivals. Survivors.
And the hunt had only just begun.
