Dark Magic (Fantasy) - Kasper, Bernhard
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The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, the kind that felt as though the very earth itself was holding its breath. Shadows clung to the edges of the room, twisting and curling like living things, as the faintest shimmer of violet light pulsed in the corner. At the heart of it all, a dark altar stood-a stone slab etched with ancient runes, slick with a viscous liquid that seemed to glimmer with malevolent intent. A figure cloaked in midnight robes moved with grace, though their every step seemed to disrupt the world around them. Their hands trembled as they reached toward the open tome…mehr

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The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, the kind that felt as though the very earth itself was holding its breath. Shadows clung to the edges of the room, twisting and curling like living things, as the faintest shimmer of violet light pulsed in the corner. At the heart of it all, a dark altar stood-a stone slab etched with ancient runes, slick with a viscous liquid that seemed to glimmer with malevolent intent. A figure cloaked in midnight robes moved with grace, though their every step seemed to disrupt the world around them. Their hands trembled as they reached toward the open tome before them, its pages worn and fragile, yet teeming with forbidden knowledge. The whispers of the book were low, almost imperceptible, like the voices of long-dead souls, beckoning, urging, enticing. The ritual had begun. With a flick of their wrist, the air crackled, and tendrils of shadow coiled up from the floor, wrapping around their limbs like a lover's touch-intoxicating, dangerous, all-consuming. The words they spoke were not in any language known to the living, their syllables a haunting cadence that resonated deep in the bones of those who heard them. Power. Raw. Unseen. Uncontrolled. It surged through them, coursing like molten fire, threatening to tear apart everything in its path. The room seemed to warp, the fabric of reality itself bending and warping under the weight of the dark magic being unleashed. The edges of their vision blurred, filled with visions of realms untouched by light, places where nightmares were born and whispers of untold power awaited those brave enough-or foolish enough-to seek them. They were no longer just a practitioner of magic. They had become its vessel. Dark magic was not a gift. It was a curse. A hunger that would never be sated, a force that would never be controlled. And now, there was no turning back.
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