Maliko

Maliko Egregor is a promising magic user from the [magic school name].

Early Life
Maliko was born in Egregan to Sparkus and Mini Egregor. At three years old, Maliko was sent to the Redna College of Magic to ensure his safety away from the dangerous life of his father. At the school, Maliko showed himself to be a natural at the magic arts.

Death of Sparkus
Maliko was notified by Egregani Council about his fathers death and invited him to pay respects before his body was moved. Once Maliko arrived at The Sirens Wake, next to his father he found piles upon piles of tomes and historical documents. The guardsmen informed Maliko that as his successor, Sparkus had left him is entire wealth and title to Egregan. In an official statement, Maliko handed over complete control of Egregan to the Lydoneian House of Representatives and bought some estate in Taffasan

Current life
Maliko sent for the tomes and documents to be sent over to his newly purchased study, in hope that he could understand the ailment that took his fathers life. Once graduated, he set out his path along every Alathran road and trail to figure out the meaning for his fathers death and what he was fighting for or against.

Excerpts from the last days of Alathra
***

These were written by scribes detailing the actions of prominent figures throughout Alathra during the cataclysm

***

Early days
Maliko had grown hateful of the world for many years, for he had found naught about his deceased fathers illness nor the events that preceded his own birth.

He had wandered these lands for decades, searching ruin after ruin, library after library, consulted researcher and historians alike. Maliko learned many things however. Magics lost to time and knowledge scholars could only dream of were at his disposal and yet... nothing. Walking along the ground that had been scarred by wars past and present, Maliko had seen it all. He wasn't his father though, he kept to himself and swore never to get involved with anything until he had his answers.

It was only a few years ago that Maliko had realised that the birthmark on his shoulder was not that at all, but marked upon him by the very same thing that afflicted Sparkus himself. He could feel the grin coming from that damned red dot behind the moon.

That was very night the news came.

The beginning of the end
Shamans and seers alike called out their cries. Fate altering energies! At first many were skeptical, only hearing from their local priests and tellers. Forces undoing! Then came the same news from abroad and people began to grow weary. Unfathomable doom! Incompatible religions and sects in unison broadcasting the same notion. A war we cannot fight! The end is nigh!

People, as they always do when it comes to cataclysmic events, panicked. They believed that rioting and disorder was the perfect thing to do when told that their world is going to end. Maliko didn't. He let out a sigh of relief instead. As the inevitable wars broke out between governments, and rituals were initiated to "soften the blow" of total annihilation, it just meant he would find it easier to continue his research. The global superpowers gave up on their lands and only sought to destroy others so it was much easier to find what he was looking for. But Maliko had changed his focus onto something else.

That damned red dot behind the moon.

Ancient spells
Maliko got to work on something unheard of. It was ambitious and had next to no chance of working, but it was something he was willing to give up his life for. He had most of the materials he needed from his little shopping  spree around the world and from the times he had "borrowed" from major institutions. There was one thing however that he had intentionally left one thing out. It lay buried behind an old pub in the south.

Once Maliko had reached what is now called Blackrose, he entered his fathers resting place. The Sirens Wake still stood tall after many decades. Memories flashed before him. As a child, Maliko was rarely allowed to see Sparkus due to his high profile engagements and threats of war. The times he did see him was when they would both meet here. Those were the only moments where he truly felt like a child; sneaking onto the roof with the other village kids, throwing snowballs at passer-bys, being scolded by his father only for him to ruffle his hair and show him how to make a proper one.

Nowadays the town was barren. The children, all grown up and shipped off to whatever war was current, the elderly long gone and those that remain hiding behind boarded up windows bracing for the next raider attack.

A tear rolled down his face, but the sharp air reminded him that grief isn't just the pain of losing someone, but its the love we still have for them. Holding on and giving us something to learn from.

Once dug up, Maliko placed his fathers prosthetic in his satchel. Whilst it was his fathers, the sight of the unworldly technology sickened him and its pulsating purple glow made his very bones ache. But he needed it for what came next.

The ritual
TBC

The end of the end
TBC