Devocraft

His laughter was completely maniacal. This was the part that he had been looking forward to the most. Complete and utter revenge over his arch nemesis.

The sacrifice was strapped to the table, a young man of 12 unconscious but still resolute. In the subconsciousness of his mind a will to hold on still existed like a fire burning bright, a much harder force to quench than Torrent though.

Torrent stood over the young man with a silver knife in his hand, looking over the arcane table, that legendary table that would put the will power and magical properties of its sacrifice into the mind and body of the murderer. The books had it all wrong. There is no consequence for being evil.

Once this sacrifice was made Torrent would be the most powerful sorcerer in the world and he could have everything he ever wanted. He wanted knowledge, and power and strength led to knowledge.

He was in no mood to monologue. He lunged forward with a swoosh of his black robes, his silver knife within inches of Dorin's face, when it stopped. There was a force holding his hand there. Fear jumped into Torrent's heart. He put his second hand to try and force his way through the invisible grip preventing him from fulfilling his revenge.

Everything started happening at once. The torches went out on each side of him. The pool of water beneath him suddenly illuminated and the upon the arcane table illuminations began. The ancient script! He'd studied the language all of his life. It was one of the roots of magic that wizards required to understand the full grasp of how magic existed and affected the world.

Ending 1......
Torrent heard a voice within his heart. An icy airy voice demanding his attention and courage. "Oh thou foolish wizard who sought to use this magic for evil. Suffer the consequences of your prevented actions." In terror Torrent drifted off into visions and illusions. Apparitions appeared before him of his own life and the different horrors that he experienced within it. He saw his fathers' murdering again. He beheld the slaughter of the Ancient Inheritance, the people that his race conquered and destroyed. He saw the losses that they sustained. He saw his murder of Dorin. Reliving these moments filled him with pride and joy. It was he that had done the good in this life. He had prevented the Inheritance from following through with their genocide. He remembered all those crimes that his father had prevented by assassinating murderers and cowards, heretics and thieves. He heard the voice again. "In your heart you have done what you considered just, even though your heart was pained with each action."

He then witnessed these experiences with him on the receiving end. He saw himself receive news that his father had been murdered in the streets. He beheld himself running with his mother and sister from the army coming to slay his village. And last of all he saw himself strapped to a table unconscious with a silver knife hanging over him. Fear gripped him. What was left of his humanity was hidden too far under his actions.

He saw himself get stabbed, and felt the blade hit him square in the chest straight into his heart. He felt the magic leave him and the wards he had put up turn to silent whispers. He felt warmth flowing out of him and looked down to see a crimson staining on his dark robes, illuminated only by the water beneath the arcane table. His life force slipped away, and he was left an empty shell, no longer there to hate or be hated. Hours later Dorin came to consciousness. Without the much more powerful wizard's enchantments he very easily concentrated on the leather ropes that his father had taught him so much about and broke the binds. He slowly lifted himself and turned to see a dead corpse in a lighted room. He felt pity.

Ending 2......
Torrent lost control of his vision. As if an unseen shackle was controlling his head his eyes left the arcane table and rested on the entrance. He saw a glossy shadow resting on the stone wall. The gloss started moving toward him. He heard a voice. "