Pure darkness.

Does there live any mortal that can truly understand its depth?

For, after all, many associate the darkness with black, with the richest, deepest ebony that consumes their vision and their sanity, the enveloping power of a clouded midnight. But this is not its true essence. Darkness is a void, a gaping maw, an absence of not only light buy life, of everything. Mortals cannot comprehend this fact for it would drive them mad. How can one stare such an infinite, empty enemy and still possess hope, still possess the courage to move onward? The few who have tried were lost in its depths, in the ravenous, ever searching beast that lurked everywhere, waiting for prey, waiting for men and women to corrupt and taint with its power.

Does there exist any deity that can truly harness its immense strength?

For three days and three nights the waters of the Lake of Darkness had roiled and raged, obsidian water spun about in torrential whirlwinds and thrown from the surface to drench its banks. For three days and three nights the sky had growled, lightning as black as night descending from the heavens, jagged teeth in a cruel smile. For three days and three nights spectral shapes loomed in the mists, skeletal warriors and grotesque beasts caught in a mortal clash for an instant before the wind erased any sign, any foreshadowing. For three days and three nights the wind had howled, the earth had quivered, the animals had fled. And then there was silence. No one had witnessed this strange event, this hidden struggle for power. The wind whispered softly over the surface of the lake, the water as still and reflective as a mirror, showing only the emptiness of the void of space.

Now, three months later, the waters erupted again. Dark light shined from the deepest depths, piercing the night like beacons from an unholy lighthouse. Magical symbols flashed as holes appeared, holes to other planes and dimensions, holes that breathed fire and poisonous vapors and revealed glowing, malicious eyes. The largest portal grew in the very center of the lake, black energy crackling around its perimeter. A lone figure shot out of the gap, his eyes like twin suns, power radiating from his flesh. Bolts of negative energy lanced out from his fingertips, suturing the portals closed, leaving burning lines of nothing in the lake's depths. Soon only the largest portal remained, its edges growing even wider. A harsh cry echoed across the hills, a preening, cruel howl of success. He threw one hand out, energy radiating from the palm to bask the opening, struggling to keep it closed. A soft, sibilant voice pierced the din of battle, shockwaves from a tremendous presence exploding over the area and blowing away the mists in one massive gust of air.

YOU FOOLISH CREATURE. YOU DREAMED OF CONQUERING OBLIVION. NOW WE SHALL CONSUME YOU.

Rays of light, as straight and sharp as lances, rocketed out of the hole. They slammed into the slight frame, but ricocheted off the currents of energy whirling around his entire body. Instead the lines of power circled him, becoming a golden globe of power. Magical runes spread across the sphere, burning red and black and silver. A tortured scream emanated from inside the globe, a scream of terror and agony and death. Darkness burst from the globe like a thick, gelatinous liquid, seeping out of the light to drip slowly into the gaping portal. The voice laughed, shaking the earth and skies with its mirth. The light reformed into a hand, tossing the limp form away as if it were a doll that no longer interested the owner.

YOU HAVE LOST. WE HAVE STRIPPED AWAY YOUR POWER. KNOW DESPAIR. KNOW HOPELESSNESS. KNOW WEAKNESS.

The portal suddenly closed upon itself, leaving a vacuum that the water crashed down to feel. On the shore was a twisted body, its pale skin a sharp contrast to the dull environment. Breath came to his thin frame with great difficulty, phlegm rattling in his lungs and making each inhale a raspy moan. There were no physical wounds present, none at all, but steam from the arcane assault still lifted from his body in small wisps. Hair that flowed like liquid silver was spread across the desolate dirt, revealing the two pointed ears that revealed elven blood. Scars spread across the wiry, muscled frame, a history of endless wars and battles written on his very flesh. A single black tattoo swirled own from his left temple, passing through his eye and down his neck, dancing across his collarbone to spiral toward the largest scar on his body, right above his heart. Only shreds of clothing remained, the remnants of leggings and a flowing cloak draped over his lower body.

Seele had left Imythess to gain power over the infinite darkness, to become so powerful no one could withstand his might.

Now he returned, crippled and devoid of his godliness, to once again wander the lands...