Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Chapter 360 A myth of the past

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This prophecy was whispered by ancient seers and passed down in secret by mystics, but few dared to believe it, for none who entered the labyrinth ever returned. Some spoke of the labyrinth in hushed tones, claiming that it held the key to immortality, while others warned that it was a place of eternal doom, where even the bravest heroes were doomed to lose their way.

For centuries, many sought the Black Flame. Kings, warriors, and mages alike ventured into the depths of the earth, lured by the promise of power. Some were driven mad by the labyrinth's illusions, while others were consumed by the creatures that lurked in its shadows. None made it to the centre. The labyrinth became a place of myth, a tale to scare children and a cautionary fable for the arrogant.

And so, the labyrinth remained, hidden deep underground, its existence known only to those who dared to seek it.

As time moved forward and the world above changed, the labyrinth remained the same. The whispers of its legend grew fainter, but they never disappeared.

Though it was said to be a myth or tale spurn by the old folk, the witches believed otherwise. They ventured into the deeper parts of the labyrinth and were able to get a glimpse of the black flames. But they couldn't get their hands on the flames.

Those witches, who saw the flames strongly believed that black flames were sort of a weapon, and if anyone were to claim them as their own, they would be invincible.

And so the prophecy of being destined for heaven was solidified. Everyone in the realm started to believe the myth.

In the turbulent era of the witches, a time when magic and power swirled around in chaotic conflict, the leaders of the Witch Coven made a monumental decision. The world was at a tipping point, and men—hungry for control, dominance, and the forbidden—sought to harness powers that were never meant for mortal hands.

They didn't want the flame to end up in the hands of men.

They believed that flame held a power too great for the hands of men, who would seek it not for balance or protection, but for conquest and dominance. Should they ever find it, the world would once again fall into darkness and destruction.

The coven agreed to build a spire on the labyrinth, and so a plan was formed. They would build their Spire of the Witches, concealing it beneath layers of magical wards and powerful illusions.

The spire would become their home, a symbol of their authority, and a beacon of their determination to protect the world from the chaos that lurked below.

The spire was not just a home for them—it was a fortress, with walls imbued with protective spells and traps that could repel even the most powerful intruders. Inside, the coven established a complex network of chambers and sanctums where they could live, study, and practice their craft.

To further protect the secret of the Black Flame, the witches wove powerful illusions around the spire.

They passed on the information of the black flames and the need for its protection to their descendants. With time, the topic of black flames disappeared, and even the witch coven seemed to have forgotten the task of protecting the labyrinth.

But now, what they just witnessed, made them doubt their thoughts.

The council of witches was aware of the existence of the black flames; the complex engraving they just saw was the labyrinth. Now they all couldn't help but think that their myths were indeed true. And the black flames really did exist in the underground of the spire.

Now standing at the edge of the yawning pit, the air thick with the stench of burning earth and molten rock, Yasmine gazed down into the abyss with narrow eyes. The heat rising from the depths flickered like the breath of an ancient beast stirring beneath the ground.

The dim light of the surroundings barely cut through the swirling smoke, casting their faces in shadow. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she spoke, her voice steady and authoritative.

"We need to meet Her Reverence," Yasmine said, her gaze never leaving the pit. There was a weight to her words, a sense of urgency that even the hardened witches around her could not dismiss.

One of the group, a tall woman with scars crisscrossing her hardened face, shifted uneasily. Her eyes darting toward the swirling vortex of fire below. "What about the boy?" she asked, her voice low but carrying the strain of uncertainty.

Yasmine's gaze shifted briefly toward the woman, her expression unyielding. "The flames come first. Then the boy," she replied firmly, cutting off any further debate. Her eyes flickered with determination. "Her Reverence will know what to do."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, the tension palpable in the air.

***

In an instant, the world around Jaegar shifted; his vision turned orange like a haze. The sweltering heat vanished, replaced by a cool, damp darkness that pressed in from all sides.

Disoriented, Jaegar blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his new surroundings.

Instinctively, Jaegar raised his hand. A bright orange flame sprang to life in his palm, casting flickering shadows on the walls around him. As his eyes adjusted, a long, narrow corridor came into view, stretching out before him into the gloom.

"Where did you bring me?" Jaegar demanded, his voice echoing softly in the confined space.

The deity's voice resonated in his mind, a mix of excitement and smugness. "It's a labyrinth, and it seems the Spire was built on top of it. Fascinating, isn't it?"

Jaegar frowned, his earlier frustration returning. "How did you find this?"

The deity scoffed, its tone dripping with condescension. "I am a god. These things are basic for one such as I."

"Weren't you resting?" Jaegar asked, recalling the deity's long periods of silence. "When did you wake up?"

"I woke when I sensed the second flame," the deity replied, a note of eagerness creeping into its voice. "It's here, in the deepest part of this labyrinth."