4. Dark: Script

Dark walls reared up into endless oblivion. Shadows lurked all around, making it impossible to see beyond a few feet. The sharp clack of metal on stone followed the seemingly lone inhabitant of the space as he stepped cautiously forward.
     He was dressed in a soft but durable, purple robe and purple armor. It  consisted of double shoulder guards and a pointed helmet. The traveller's light, purplish-blue hair hung to his shoulders and grazed his eyelashes. His eyes themselves were sky blue, and glanced around suspiciously. He held a green staff tightly in both hands, ready for an attack. 
     The man walked forward slowly, mistrustfully, down a narrow passageway. Darkness hid the way he had come and the way he was going. Nothing at all could be seen except grey stone surfaces, and nothing heard but the tap, tap, tapping of the male's feet. His eyes strained to catch a glimpse of anything, anything at all that would give him hope to continue onward, but there was nothing.
     After what seemed like a millennia of dim tunnels and shadows, pale blue light filtered around a corner. The man quickened his pace and rounded the corner to find a wider hall with blue leaking from somewhere out of his line of sight. He hurried forward with new purpose, sure he would find what he was looking for.
     Step, step, CRACK! A stone gave way below the traveller's foot, and soon the whole floor was crumbling. He was plunged into blackness, but, with a wave of his staff, a burst of dark magic sent him hurtling upward. The magician landed on solid ground, unshaken because he was so close to succeeding.
     The man turned the last corner and came upon a huge room. It was lit by a bright blue light that shone from then middle of several crags of rock. These spires were situated in a tight circle in the center of the room.  The space was so vast that the edges and ceiling were still lost to the ever-present darkness. It was dead silent.
     Dwarfed by the massive pillars of rock and by the enormity of the chamber, an unconscious figure lay strewn on the floor like a discarded plaything. Its pink sides heaved faintly. The magician ran toward the girl and knelt beside her. He gently picked her up and held her. 
     She was younger than he, fourteen or fifteen at the most, with pale skin and blonde hair. She wore a short, pink dress and pink and blue armor. Pretty blue eyes blinked open slowly and the teenager moaned in pain. Noticing the man for the first time, she smiled weakly.
     "I knew you'd come for me," she whispered, relief evident in her voice. 
     "I told you never to come down here, apprentice," the older murmured, frowning.  The girl tried to sit up and gasped, falling back down. She clutched her side tightly, panting. The magician carefully pried the female's hand away and found no physical injury. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply. The man sensed a magical wound eating away at his apprentice. He opened his eyes, and sighed frustratedly.
      "I lack the magic necessary to heal you," he said slowly. " And. I cannot take you to the master unless Chaos lets us out."
     "He's angry, teacher," the girl breathed . "Angry at himself. Go talk to him."
    "I won't leave yo-" the magician began to protest,  but was cut off. 
     "Go ," she said forcefully. "I-I'll be okay, really." He shook his head but gingerly set his student on the cool stone. He stood, picking up his staff. The man strode toward the boulders, stopping a few steps later at a deep moat. He gazed down into the depths of the pool and saw the magic swirling deep within,  waiting for an unwary traveller to step in. 
     The spellcaster jumped high into the air and propelled himself onto the closest spire. There were seven rocks, six arranged in a circle around the last, which was shorter and broader. A whirling inferno of blue energy spun at the center of the center platform. Small pebbles were caught in it, whipping around at impossible speeds. Unfazed, the magician leaped with ease onto the edge of the rock the ball of blue was hovering over. 
     "Chaos," he called loudly. "I come to you peacefully. Please, just let us leave." The sphere died down to nothing but a few gyrating stones. A hunched, leather-clad male sat facing away from the magician. He was tall and thin, with long, slender limbs. He wore a ram-like helmet of black and red, with black hair drifting against the pull of gravity out behind it. He clutched a black staff with a red tip loosely in one gloved hand. The man's long legs were pulled up to his chest, his arm resting on top of them. His face was buried in his arms. 
     "Mahad, Dark Magician," the male muttered, voice muffled by his arms. "Why do you disturb me?"
     "I came for Mana," the Dark Magician informed. "Now, please, let us out." 
     "I am the Magician of Black Chaos," Chaos began quietly, body beginning to glow a brilliant blue. "And I will not be commanded in my own chamber!" he rose into the air, body unfurling. Waves of energy began to pulse from his wand, knocking the Dark Magician back toward the sharp edge of the stone. Mahad dug in his heels and ever so slowly trudged closer to Chaos. 
     "What is this about?!" he shouted, enraged. "Don't tell me that after who knows how many millennia, you still throw temper tantrums when you lose!" The light from Chaos became blinding as he swung around angrily and pointed his scepter at the Dark Magician. Dark energy began to grow at its tip that sucked all the light in the chamber into it. The enlarging sphere crackled like electricity and gave off absolutely no light. The magic grew to the size of a small car and flung itself at Mahad. 
     The magician was sent flying off the platform, skidding to a halt a few feet from Mana. He lay on his back on the cold stone, panting. He could feel the darkness seeping into his body, burning him like acid. His muscles tensed in agony.
     "Magician, what is going on here?" a voice called from across the now pitch black room. Chaos gasped and sank to ground level. He bowed to the newcomer, staff crossed over his chest in a sign of fealty. The only female in the room's eyes widened.
      "Master," she choked. 
     "Pharaoh," the Magician of Black Chaos said respectfully, head bowed. "I-I was... they..." he stammered, looking up to reveal blue skin and yellow eyes. He took in the blonde and black hair, the narrowed violet eyes, the arms crossed over a puzzle made of a bronze-like metal. Overall, his master did not look pleased. 
     "What did you do to my two most trusted  spellcasters?" the pharaoh demanded. He glanced at his defeated servants appreciatively.  "What did you do to them?" he repeated in a more thoughtful tone.
     "Ancient and deadly magic," Chaos admitted shamefully. "Excruciating and nearly impossible to heal."
     "This is inexcusable," the Pharaoh declared. "Nothing gives you the right to attack them. Why would you do this, Chaos?"
      "I-I felt weak," the offender finally admitted. "I failed you in battle and you nearly lost the duel." 
      "It isn't  your fault," his master assured. "My strategy was flawed. A costly mistake." 
     "Wha..." The spellcaster began, but slumped over halfway through, out cold. 
     "I suppose the strain was too much for him," he reasoned. With a wave of his hand, the ruler opened a whole wall of the space, flooding it with light. Two females, an elf and a witch, hurried in and levitated the three, taking them away. 
     "Yami? Yami, are you here?" s childish voice asked loudly.
     "Yes, Yugi, I am here," the pharaoh answered.