By order of the king of the northern lands, entry into the Valley of Oblivion is prohibited for all living and dead. The once blooming and beautiful land is now strewn with bones, the remains of dragons, once great and proud creatures. It was in this place that the final battle took place, in which the alliance of people, mountain gnomes, dark and forest elves prevailed over the powerful dragons. The Alliance, with huge losses, destroyed the ancient flying creatures, without even thinking about whether they really posed a threat to them? At the end of the battle, the valley was on fire, the stones were melting, which made it impossible to pick up the fallen brothers, and so the greatest army of those times left the battlefield.

For many centuries, the white smooth bones of dragons lie mixed with the remains of warriors who died in that battle, shrouded in thick fog. This whole depressing atmosphere is complemented by spiky mountains, reminiscent of a twisted palisade, on which, nowhere else, the partially destroyed skeletons of defeated flying giants remained hanging.

There was only one road leading into the valley, on both sides there were steep cliffs, from a bird’s eye view, they resembled a mountain gap. Along this ancient path, a stooped man walked alone. He was dressed in an old, tattered robe, dark brown, with patches of all possible colors on it. In appearance, he usually resembled a tramp. The traveler’s face was hidden by a low-lowered hood, from under which came the heavy breathing of an old man.

The old man slowly moved forward, leaning on a crooked staff as old as his robe. Limping, he walked along an uneven road dotted with shallow holes. Dried grass crunched under his feet. Gradually the rocks stopped hanging overhead, and the entrance to the Valley of Oblivion began to be visible ahead.

The man saw a partially destroyed fence, where there were huge bones sticking out of the ground. On the pillars that once held the rotted gates, torches burned dimly; trembling flames tried in vain to disperse the darkness. On the right side, a little further away from the “gate,” there was a low watchtower; a fire was burning, and on it something was bubbling in a cauldron.
Nneuriot moved towards the destroyed gate. Suddenly they called out to him:
– Hey, you! Stand still!

Turning his head, the old man saw a tall black-haired man clad in shining armor jump out of the watchtower, and he quickly began to approach the uninvited guest. On the opposite side, two more appeared from behind the rock, unlike the first, they were wearing ordinary chain mail on top of which was wearing a cape with a coat of arms, it was the head of a dragon breathing fire. On their heads were steel helmets with an open face, on the forehead of which there was a black plate in the shape of a bow.

The guards stood together a couple of meters in front of the old man, blocking his entrance. A tall knight without a helmet with long black hair, shoulder-length, apparently their commander, took a step towards the intruder.

“Entry into the valley is prohibited,” the guard said in a firm voice. – Go away now!

“I need to go,” the stranger said quietly.

-You didn’t hear? – The knight barked. – I told you that entry is prohibited!

A man in a threadbare robe stood motionless and silent, only his heavy groan could be heard
breath. The guard’s face softened a little, he apparently realized that it was not good for old people to be rude, and said:

– Well, what did you forget there, old man?? – he asked. “There’s nothing there but a pile of bones.”.

“I need to go there,” the stranger insisted. – And I will pass.

Suddenly the traveler turned slightly to the side and took a couple of steps, trying to pass by the black-haired big man. The leader of the guards was taken aback by the actions of the impudent man, anger began to burst through him and he could barely restrain himself so as not to hit the old man between the eyes. Without thinking twice, he grabbed the traveler by the shoulder and pulled him in the opposite direction.
The old man fell on his back, dropping his staff from his hands. As he fell, the hood flew off the wanderer’s head and finally his face became visible, covered with deep wrinkles and age spots. On the head, gray hair stuck out in different directions. And the eyes—the blue eyes sparkled with melancholy.

– No progress! I told you so! – the guard shouted. – Now you will leave or we will throw you out of the barge?

“Captain,” one of the guards addressed. – Maybe it shouldn’t be like that, but what if he has this, well, something wrong with his head??

– Not only was I assigned to this hole! – the black-haired man roared. – So I still have to calm down all sorts of stupid old idiots?

Meanwhile, the old man turned over on his right side and knelt, leaning on his right hand, he groped on the ground, trying to reach the staff.

“Yermin, we don’t like it here either,” another guard turned to the authorities. “But beating up old people is too much.”.

– Enough! – the knight shouted at his subordinates. “And you,” this time he turned to the old man. – Get up and get the hell out of here!

The traveler finally grabbed his staff with nongamstopsites.uk a trembling hand, and with his free hand he threw a hood over his head. Leaning on the staff, he began to slowly rise, the weakness in his legs made itself felt. Rising to his feet, the old man looked intently at the offender and slightly bent his right arm, turning his palm upward, as if asking for alms.

– What, are you asking for alms?? Give me a couple of coins? – Yermin asked mockingly.

Suddenly, a red sphere the size of a pea appeared above the old man’s palm, into which rays of red energy began to merge, causing the sphere to become larger. The guards unanimously bulged their eyes in surprise and shifted their gaze, then to the sphere, then to the old man. The red ball had already stopped growing and was simply shimmering with dark shades over the palm.

– What the hell is this?? – clearly expressed alarm sounded in the black-haired man’s voice.

“This is alms,” the old man said with a grin. – Alms for you!

He jerked his hand forward and the sphere, with incredible speed, rushed towards the guard. Yermin only felt a trembling all over his body, after the impact of the sphere, the next second he was torn into pieces. The remains of their commander flew towards the guards, staining their chain mail with scarlet blood. From this whole spectacle, the knights opened their mouths in surprise and stood motionless, rooted to the spot.

Aratis Nneuriot raised his hand, turning it, palm to his face, and whispered a spell. The guards came to their senses and, snatching their swords from their sheaths, rushed towards the killer. But it was already too late, the old man directed a green, dust-like mass in their direction. “Dust” crashed into the knights and began to decompose their bodies before our eyes. The chainmail uniform crumbled like sand, and the flesh was torn from the bones and fell onto the dried grass, turning into muddy puddles. With mad cries, the guards fell to the ground. Soon the screams stopped, the green cloud ate away their vocal cords, only their bodies were still twitching convulsively. Another second and the light of life left the soldiers, leaving only bare skeletons of a greenish tint.

The old man coughed and fell to his knees, he was too weak, and the black magic took too much strength. “I can’t die yet, not now,” he thought. Aratis forced himself to his feet.

“I overdid it a little,” he grinned.

The sun rose, bringing with it a new day and gradually illuminating the dragon cemetery. Nneuriot continued his journey deep into the Valley of Oblivion, this time no one will stop him, he is the only one alive who remained in this place.

Aratis climbed a small hill with difficulty; bones and entire skeletons of dragons were scattered around him. The old man was chilled by the morning chill, but he did not pay attention to it. After a recent fight, his breathing became even heavier, his heart beat faster and made a suspicious noise.

Nneuriot raised his gaze to the stake mountains that refracted the rays of the rising sun. For some reason, this whole spectacle seemed especially fascinating to him. For some time he admired the sunrise. Aratis tilted his head and squinted his eyes towards the bag that hung on his side. Undoing the clasp, he opened the bag and stuck his hand into it, a weak shock pierced his fingertips. Aratis grabbed the artifact and took it out of his bag. In his hand was a purple sphere in a gold frame; ancient symbols were carved along the poles of the ball. Blueish smoke rose from the ball. The wanderer looked at the artifact, he was fascinated by the pulsating energy in the middle of the sphere. An unknown and powerful force was hidden in this artifact. The wanderer felt it with his whole body.

The old man took the purple sphere with both hands and, placing it against his forehead, began to recite a spell in the ancient language. At first it was a quiet whisper, but gradually his voice became louder and louder, soon it sounded like the roar of a hurricane. The necromancer fell silent and with a sharp movement raised his hand with the artifact forward.

– Rise and obey! – Aratis shouted. – Rise up!

From the sphere in his hand, a wave of pure energy quickly spread in all directions, knocking over the skeletons and bones of dragons. In an instant, the sky became cloudy and thunder was heard, the sphere glowed brighter and brighter. Another energy wave passed. A blue pulse erupted from the artifact and rushed into the heavens. Lightning curled in the clouds. At the same moment, from the place where the pulsating energy struck a second ago, a beam of the same blue light burst out and rushed towards the artifact. From the contact of the beam and the ancient magical thing, a spherical shock wave was formed, which knocked Aratis onto his back and covered the entire Valley of Oblivion.

The remains of the fallen burst into blue magical flames. The valley was shrouded in haze and the earth shook. With a roar and crunch, the bones were pulled out of the ground and hovered above it. Terrible skeletons of dragons began to be restored from bones. It all looked like a whirlwind of bones. Within a couple of minutes, a whole cloud of undead dragons was flying over the valley, the blue flame did not leave their “body”, the joints were connected by dark magical energy, and it also forced their wings to perform their primary function, that is, to fly. The rebel knights crawled out of the ground, even three recently killed guards did not go unnoticed. Dark red fire burned in the empty eye sockets and mouths of the resurrected undead.

Aratis Nneuriot lay on his back and watched everything that was happening. He smiled. He was filled with joy.

“Now the king will pay for your deaths,” said Nneuriot.

The awakening of the artifact took away the last vital forces. Aratis’s eyes grew dim, and old days flashed before him..

The warm sun warmed and brightly illuminated the small house, but it was warm and very cozy; on the green lawn under a young pine tree there was a small table and behind it sat a young, fair-haired man with a pleasant appearance. Chaos reigned on the table, books were piled one on top of the other mixed with parchments, sheets of paper were pressed down by clay tablets with strange symbols. On the corner of the table, with its tail dangling, a white and black cat was dozing. The man carefully studied something, looking first at one book, then at another, and carefully wrote something down in his diary. Apparently he was a scientist.

– Daddy! – a joyful child’s voice rang out.

The man looked up from what he was doing and raised his head, the cat pricked up its ears and followed the example of its owner, but, not seeing anything interesting, buried its muzzle in its paws and fell asleep. The young scientist smiled. Two little girls ran towards him. Their long, blond hair blew in the gentle breeze. They were wearing white dresses decorated with various outlandish patterns.

“Dad, look at the flowers I picked for mommy,” the first girl to arrive jabbered. – Do you think she’ll like it?? A?

He stood up from the table, took a step towards his daughter and knelt down next to her; Finally, another girl ran up and exclaimed:

– And my flowers? Dad, my bouquet is more beautiful? Mom will like him better? Is it true? – she bombarded her father with questions, poking the bouquet right in his face.

The man spoke with a smile on his face:

– Yole. Ivika. – slowly, in a soft voice, he said their names. – My dears, your flowers are equally beautiful and mom will be very happy with your gifts.

The girls calmed down, and the father put his hands on their heads, stroking their hair sparkling in the sun. Children’s laughter. A female figure appeared at the door of the house. Her long skirt reached to the floor and was decorated with embroidered poppies; the snow-white blouse glittered in the rays of the summer sun. Long fiery red hair was braided into a lush braid that fell from a fragile, feminine shoulder.

Noticing the woman, the little ones took off and skipped towards her.
– Mother! – they exclaimed at the same time, – this is for you!

The children handed flowers into the hands of their mother, she accepted the gifts, giving them her warm smile. The woman sat down and hugged the girls tightly, and tenderly, motherly, kissed their cheeks.

The father crossed his arms over his chest and watched what was happening with a smile on his face. The mother and children looked at him and began to call him over with a wave of their hands. The man tried to take a step and couldn’t, something was holding him back. In an instant, everything around lost color, smoke poured out from somewhere, which made my throat sore. He saw how the fire began to consume his family..

The old man blinked and a cry came from his throat:

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He tried to get up, but his body did not obey, death was just a matter of time. Thoughts flashed through his fading mind: “how is it possible, I’ll die without finishing what I started?”? All my efforts are in vain…".

“Forgive me, soon we will be together again,” the necromancer said with the last of his strength.
Aratis turned his gaze to the clouds, as if trying to look beyond them. At that moment, when the heart made its final push, a voice was heard in the head of the dying necromancer: “finally!».

The sphere glowed even brighter and the magical blue flame began to consume Aratis, engulfing his hand and gradually spreading throughout his body. The necromancer was transformed monstrously, all parts of the body changed their shape: fingers lengthened and black claws appeared instead of nails, sharp bone spikes gradually protruded from the shoulders, the head seemed to dry out and darkened skin covered the deformed skull. The skin on the nose burst, exposing the nasal bone, and the teeth turned into sharp monstrous fangs. His cheekbones were deformed, forming a pair of growths; curving, the “tusks” grew along the lower jaw and curved upward at the ends. Now Aratis Nneuriot no longer looked like a man, he looked like the dead he had resurrected.

The lich raised his eyelids and his empty eye sockets flashed with the same red flame as those of his newly minted army. Without the slightest movement, the reborn Aratis, with the help of magic, soared above the ground and stood on his feet.

“Y-ah-ah,” he drawled with satisfaction. – The king will pay. Everyone will pay in full and die in agony!

The lich burst into sinister laughter, red clouds of steam escaping from his mouth. When he calmed down, he extended his hand towards the flying bone giants, calling them to him. One of the dragons spun the barrel and sharply began to descend towards its owner. The winged undead landed in front of the Lich and bowed its head. Aratis placed his bony hand on the dragon’s skull, as if stroking it, and said:

– We have to catch up.

With these words, Aratis flew over the dragon and settled on his neck. A flock of resurrected creatures left the Valley of Oblivion, the hour of reckoning was approaching.