On a far off island in the seas of Azurai lived a powerful sorcerer by the name of Nyris. Nyris was six feet tall with broad muscular built, curious lavender eyes, tan skin and an abundance of midnight colored hair. He had lived on this island for centuries, isolating himself from the world so that he could learn more.
But the other part of his isolation was to be away from other beings, whether they were non-magic or not. When he was young he admired power, lusted for it, despite being what he was it didn't come without its costs. The price always came steep, even when he couldn't bear to pay.
Two hundred years into the past and he had been known as a deity for his gifts, the healings that he performed, the lives he saved, the battles he fought to bring peace even if his hands had to be stained with blood. Magic was used in every one of his triumphs, the more power he gained, the more people tried to cling to him.
The poor wanted wealth, wanted strength to be given while the rich who were already quite wealthy wanted even more power. They were venomous creatures, leeches who would trade their souls, bodies, their minds for him. They wanted him to give them his splendor, share his magic around.
But when he did not yield they cursed him. Some pleaded, plotted, and tried to kill him. The first time that Nyris felt a blade carve inside his chest, he could remember the burning, the carmine drops of blood that ran over his chest, how painful it was.
It was also the first time that he realized that he could not die. The knife had pushed through his flesh straight into his heart which still beat. He could hear the thrumming of his heart, it had not given out and neither would he. A painful lesson to learn, but a lesson that was needed.
From then on any village, town, or city he walked through he ignored the people and admired the architecture of the buildings, tall structures in wood, complexes of marble and glass. The art and music that they gave, the culture fed to him from the books he drained of knowledge. But then there were distractions.
Nyris for some time had avoided the pleasures that tempted most men. Women. When he was taught by his mentor, he'd think about how he held a candle for her. He was fifteen, practically still a boy, and yet at the time he was a man.
Larcinia, she was five years older than he was, a widow without any children to fill her home. She was gifted in the art of mystical energy, something that wasn't called magic at the time. Nyris was basically given to be under her care after his parents passing. She had shown him how to harness the energy from nature, for selfless reasons, never for personal gain.
Larcinia believed that any magic performed for selfish reasons would darken the heart and corrupt the power within. Nyris almost felt bad for thinking it: But Larcinia was wrong. And she too was a flash into his past, a sweet nourishing one.
Nyris breathed in the salty sea air and thought back, she was five foot five, with golden cascades rolling down her back that stopped mid-waist. Her eyes were the softest shade of blue, so bright that they would make the sky turn away when she looked up to feel the rays upon her peach toned skin. Larcinia always wore a long pearl gown that tugged against her curves, a silver pendant she kept for luck, and sandals made of vine.
Her gown always made him blush, it raised her breasts up lovingly enough so that they could peek out and greet the morning light, while it gripped hips, snug was the word. They were raw against the thin strip of fabric, always grinding up and down. When they practiced in the river streams, he'd noticed how the fabric would claw against her skin, sometimes getting caught in between her thighs.
Such sweet memories of her visage passed him by. But with the sweet came the bitter. Lovely wenches, witches, vampires, and a bag of other tricks came out to greet him some time after. All wanting his heart or his power. Some wanted both, but Nyris could never wantonly give away either without risk.
He was tempted to touch, taste, view, but he knew it was all a façade. When he had worn the women down, slowly, refusing to be intimate in anyway, then when they were at their ends would they reveal their true motive. They wanted to know if they could receive his power if they had sex with him. Some wanted him to worship them, because they secretly wished for him to treat them as goddesses, he was to be their prize, a very rare specimen.
But no, he would not give in. Even though he was not a virgin, in times of drunken sorrow or indescribable confusion he would give into the temptations, no questions asked. Nyris never paid attention to their wants or needs, only his own. And when the feeling passed, he left. The women disappointed in not receiving special gifts from their conquest usually left it at that, a one night stand.
After awhile Nyris gave up on people, they always wanted something no matter what it took, the pain, the rage, the body, the soul. So he used his powers and made himself a boat, he placed an enchantment upon it, to arrive at the farthest destination from where he was leaving from. And after ten days at sea he found his island.
At first it was desolate, no trees, just wreckage from ships that probably crashed against the large rocks that floated nearby and drown into the watery grave. The first thing he did was grant the land a blessing, the blessing the bare the fruit of the earth. Palm trees sprouted around building a heavily guarded forest, there were berries, coconuts, hibiscus, jasmine, amaryllis', trumpet flowers that bloomed from every pocket and fizzle fruit.
He gave the island a cool breeze that past against his cheek, structure in making a cavern as well as a moderate sized hut that was hidden inside the forest. The cave was his thinking place, the hut was his home. Inside the cave was nothing, just darkness, and when the skies swirled with dark clouds and the seas shook, he took shelter in the cave despite having the power to cease it.
Nyris had small selfish whims, not large ones. He enjoyed the storms that brushed by his island, never leaving any damage due to his blessing spells. In time he had been called a deity and desolate souls would sail out to the island, or tried to catch a glimpse of him after healing of his past triumphs. There was even a time where the people sent him their daughters for him to make his own.
But he refused. Anyone who had made it to the island was answered a simple question and if answered incorrectly then they were repelled by the magic waves and swept away back home. It was all so trivial to him, tedious, he just wanted his time to be, even if that meant being alone forever.
In the present he was sitting along the shores of his island looking up at the sky turn lilac with a gray cast. He pulled at his shorts, they were crafted using his earth magic and were entirely made of leaves, but nonetheless resembled a pair of mid length shorts that cut off at the knee. Nyris wore a shirt today, mainly because it gave him normalcy. His shirt as crafted by using the flower petals, fruit nectar, and of course magic, but unlike his shorts you couldn't tell how his shirt was made or what it was made of.
"Storm bringer." Nyris spoke to the clouds floating above his head, he held his hands up as if to reach for them "Let the waters pour so that this land flourishes." It was a small prayer he made, one to maintain the magic that he had set in motion once he had set foot on the island. It was a prayer for the rain to always refresh the plants, keep them going throughout any and ever season, every disaster.
Nyris sighed looking out at the steady calm sea, no rocking waves, just gentle silence that spoke volumes to him. No storm was coming, just a stroke of mist to tap against the greenery. He walked towards his hut and stopped, today he was to relax. It was a day he wanted to himself, every day was task for him. Check every petal, every leaf, every fine.
Wash in the waterfalls that stood proudly before the entrance of the cave. Collect the fruit and sweet nectar, store them, gain the pure water from the pool that laid below the waterfall, collect a small ray of sunlight in a jar and save it in case of a magical storm.
Backlash from spells happened, and sometimes even if far away they could affect nature in the strangest and most violent of ways.
He could read, he took several books with him from the library before he set off for the island, paper and pencils, things to write in. He wrote entries for himself every day. Living as mundane as he possibly could.
No, Nyris would take his time today. He walked along the sandy shores into the bustle of leaves that covered the entrance of the forest, the trees were stacked high, their tops shadowed over him giving him much needed shade for when the sun was too excited and wanted to the world to see it prosper.
He stepped along the tall grass and fungi that clung around the trunks of the trees, carefully walking over stones that hid under moss. He walked up a paved stone pathway up towards the rocky gray cavern where no light could be found. Nyris walked until he was near the end of the cave and sat down. He closed his eyes and prayed for peace, for health, for happiness.
Hours after he felt a small dinging in his ears. Something was coming. He pallid eyes narrowed as he ran out of the hidden sanctuary and through the trees, hitting leaves and crushing broken limbs under his feet until he came back to the shore.
It was still there, a beige collection of crystals nestled against his feet. He looked up again, but nothing had changed. Nyris walked back and forth trying to think, would it be another unwanted visitor? Maybe something else he could not foresee, but he felt the presence. It unnerved him as he crossed his arms and frowned at the sky.
