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One Of The Greatest Magical Fantasy Stories Ever Written - Chapter 1
In the dark clearing, eleven figures had gathered around a stone obelisk. From the decaying leaves on the forest floor, the glistening rock rose several feet into the night sky. It sparkled like lake water and shone in the moon’s light.
The eleven men who stood around it were cloaked and hidden in shadow, save for the long, silver hair which each of them wore. They had been waiting for nearly an hour, completely motionless. But as the night approached its darkest hour, their shrunken faces slowly came into focus as a shimmering mist emerged from the base of the obelisk. Like a snake, the fog wrapped itself around the eleven black figures, illuminating their hunched positions and large, heavy boots. Soon, the entire clearing had filled with the strange light, as if the moon had descended through the canopy above. Still, the men remained still. Finally, a raspy whisper roused their attention. None of the men could tell where the voice was coming from, but it sounded like death and despair.
“Followers,” it wheezed. The dusty voice filled the space between the trees.
“Yes, my lord,” the men answered in quiet unison,
“The world is about to change. The struggle between good,” it paused, “and evil will never be the same.”
The forest was absolutely silent, until the raspy voice was heard again.
“This obelisk in front of you is not made of stone, but of the life forces of this earth. It is the key to eternal life, power, and control. The world will be ours. Now, let us join together.”
The voice died in the clearing as the eleven men slowly approached the obelisk, which was now glowing brilliantly. They joined hands and the obelisk grew brighter still.
“By completing this ritual,” said the voice,”we are entrusting our lives to this stone. As long as it is never destroyed, we will live, just like in Harry Potter.”
The men held their breaths in anticipation, and the voice spoke again.
“Now, let us finalize our descent in history!”
The stone face of the obelisk cracked, unleashing a dazzling column of white light that seemed to stretch into the sky. A cold wind whipped through the clearing, tousling the long white locks of the eleven men who stood there. Eleven rays of light shot outwards from the center of the obelisk and pierced each of the cloaked figures through the chest. The cool breeze became a storm wind, bowing the tall pines that bounded the clearing. All was lost in a circle of light that shone deep into the night sky.
And then, even faster than it had begun, the woods fell silent, and the light of the obelisk was gone. All that remained in the clearing was a small rock, black as coal. The eleven men had vanished.
To be continued