Long before the world turned its back on magic, before the great libraries fell to dust and the last known spell was forgotten, there existed a man known only as
The Master. In his prime, he was a sorcerer of such unrivaled power that even the most ancient gods trembled at the thought of crossing his path. Legends of his feats spread across continents, whispered in every kingdom, for none dared to speak them aloud. But this is not the tale of his glory; this is the tale of his undoing.
The Master, once a scholar in a forgotten order of sorcerers, had long ago transcended the mortal bounds of knowledge. He had discovered ancient secrets hidden in the shadows of the world. Secrets so profound, they promised eternal life, the mastery of elements, and the bending of fate itself. But with every discovery, his ambition grew, and with every new spell cast, the balance of the universe teetered ever closer to ruin.

Standing before a beautifully arranged table, this wise figure radiates an aura of ancient knowledge, evoking questions of what stories and teachings might unfold from their rich life experiences and deep understanding.
In his later years, it was said that the Master became obsessed with a singular goal: the retrieval of the
Scroll of Eternity, a forgotten artifact lost in time. It was said to be the key to binding the powers of life and death, to rewrite the very fabric of existence. There were many who had sought it, and many who had perished in its pursuit. Yet none had succeeded, and over time, the scroll faded from legend into myth. But for the Master, it was all-consuming.
His obsession led him to seek out every dark corner of the world - tombs buried deep beneath forgotten cities, cursed temples that had not felt the touch of man in centuries, and into the depths of the mind where reality began to bend. He went to lengths that no mortal should. He made pacts with the most abominable of creatures, performed rituals that caused the stars themselves to tremble. Still, nothing yielded the scroll. The Master grew desperate.
One evening, as the sun set behind the mountains and the winds carried the scent of something ancient and foul, the Master found himself before an obscure cave, marked with runes that none alive could read. It was in this forsaken place that he discovered the last known fragment of a forgotten legend. The scroll, it seemed, was not hidden in the world of the living but within the realm of the dead itself.
Determined, The Master performed the forbidden ritual of
Oblivion's Walk, a rite that allowed the living to step into the land of spirits. This was no ordinary place; it was an abyss that consumed all who dared enter. Even the bravest souls who sought knowledge in the realm of the dead found themselves lost, their minds shattered by the horrors they encountered. But The Master had no fear. His power was unmatched.
He passed through the veil between worlds and emerged into a land that defied all understanding - a place where time did not flow, where the sky was a churning mass of colors no mortal eye could comprehend, and the very air seemed to whisper forgotten names. It was here, in this twilight realm, that The Master found the
Scroll of Eternity, perched atop an altar built from the bones of ancient gods.
But as he reached out to take the scroll, a voice - ancient and hollow - echoed through the void.
"Do you seek to control death, sorcerer?" it asked. "Do you dare to unweave the threads of existence itself?"

A valiant figure stands tall in the snowy expanse, merging strength with grace. The convergence of the gleaming light and the formidable axe illustrates a steadfast resolve, ready to face any challenge in the frostbitten wilderness.
The Master, blinded by his hunger for ultimate power, did not hesitate. He seized the scroll and began to unroll it. The moment the parchment touched the air, reality cracked, and the sky split open with a deafening roar. The Master's vision blurred, his body wracked with pain as the very laws of life and death were torn asunder.
Suddenly, the world around him collapsed. The altar crumbled, the bones of gods disintegrated, and the veil between the living and the dead began to unravel. In his haste to wield its power, The Master had disrupted the balance of the cosmos. The spirits of the dead, freed from their eternal prison, rushed into the land of the living, dragging with them the horrors of ages past.
The Master's body began to twist and warp as the forces he had dared to control turned upon him. His eyes glowed with unnatural light, but it was too late. The power of the scroll was not a gift - it was a curse. The Master, once the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, was transformed into something beyond death, something neither living nor dead.
As the veil between worlds tore open fully, the spirits of the dead swarmed across the land, corrupting all they touched. Kingdoms fell. Heroes perished. The world as it was ceased to exist, torn apart by the very powers The Master had sought to control.
Yet, The Master's torment did not end there. Trapped between the realms, his mind and soul fractured. The scroll, now bound to his very being, cursed him to wander the shattered world for eternity. He was no longer a man, but a twisted reflection of his former self -
The Sorcerer - a ghostly figure who could never die, but would never live again.
For centuries, The Sorcerer drifted, a remnant of his own ambition, his once-powerful form reduced to a shadow, his soul torn between the worlds of the living and the dead. He would visit ancient ruins, his presence an omen of doom. He would reach into the forgotten corners of the earth, where secrets and shadows still whispered, searching for the one thing that could undo the curse - the
Scroll of Eternity.

Within the shadows of the castle walls, music comes to life through the strings of a harp, played by a figure clad in resplendent colors. The harmony between the attire and the setting tells a story of elegance and artistic expression through time.
It is said that somewhere, hidden in the forgotten places of the world, there still exists the Sorcerer, forever searching for the scroll that once gave him power and cursed him to a fate worse than death. His story, like the scroll itself, is lost to time, known only in hushed whispers among the last of the sorcerers.
But none dare search for him. None dare seek the scroll. For even the bravest know that some powers should never be touched - and some sorcerers, no matter how long they wander, will never be forgotten.
Thus,
The Master - the sorcerer who sought to control death itself - remains a cautionary tale: a warning against the dangers of ambition unchecked and the horrors of meddling with forces beyond human comprehension.