Dio

It has been a thousand years since the once powerful
planet of Blessing lost its life-giving two suns, and
countless millennia since the days of the great
magicians. An expedition of alien voyagers came upon
the now ice-covered sphere, drawn there by an
unexplained lone beacon far below the miles of frozen
moisture, they unlocked a written history of Blessing
from its almost undiscovered tomb. So begins the story
of Magica.
It was a time of celebration. The Book of Magica and
the wizards who had used its spells so wisely for the
good of the people were being honored in all the great
cities of the world. There was however an exception.
Where good thrives, evil survives and evil has plans
for survival.
The celebration of thanks and prosperity would signal
the forces of Evilsyde to begin the attack and
ultimate capture and destruction of Magica. The spells
from the Book would be used to turn all of those
unwilling to join Evilsyde into statues of stone and
send their spirits to Otherworld, where they would
eventually be assimilated into the energy needed to
drive Evilsyde, and maintain its power without the
necessity of the Book and its incantations forever.
Defenses were naturally relaxed during the festive
preparations and although the battle was well-fought
by both factions, the minions of the dark prevailed.
Their assault was well-planned and executed to a
fault. After overwhelming their initial opposition,
they pushed on to the sacred ground upon which the
Book of Magica rested. They possessed a much weaker
form of magic themselves, and although it would be
normally quite useless against the strength of Magica,
the inability of the Wizards to gather themselves
together in time, coupled with the perfect timing and
determination of the attackers, spelled doom for the
Book and its followers.
The leader of the insurrection was the high priest and
executioner known as Shadowcast. His presence could
make the naughtiest of children become obedient and
inspire great fear among the adult population. This
man, most vile, would now be ruler of all and
answerable to none. His reign would plunge Blessing
into eternal darkness and prepare the way for the
coming of his master, Astoroth, the Grand Duke of Hell.
The capture of Magica did not, however, mean that
Shadowcast had finally reached his goal. He must now
find and conquer Blessing's Grand Wizard and legendary
hero, Eriel. Eriel, who defeated Evilsyde time and
again with his understanding and use of Magica's
spells. He would be the last stumbling block of total
domination.
Eriel had removed himself from the general population
in anticipation of everlasting peace and now he
devoted all of his energy to meditation and praise of
his God. Lately though, he had been visited by many
temptations in his dreams. Promises of pleasure,
riches and power raced through his sleeping mind. All
these lures had been placed there by Shadowcast,
hoping to avoid confrontation between this dominant
man and his own villainous forces. Eriel however had
resisted these solicitations and was now warned of
some impending danger. He managed to make his way to
the sacred ground by cloaking his identity with simple
spells, only to be discovered just before his attempt
to rescue the Book of Magica, but not before he was
able to memorize the most important of Magica's
charms, The spell of Restoration.
The ceremony of thanksgiving was now directed toward
the transmission of spirits to Otherworld. One by one
the good souls of Blessing were turned to stone and
sent on to their grisly fate, until only the noble
Eriel remained. The spectacle that followed was meant
to degrade Eriel and raise the courage of the cowardly
supplicants of Evilsyde, but true to his
indominantable bearing, he promised to return and
banish Evilsyde forever. Then he was gone.
The horrors of Otherworld are now revealed to the
masses huddled together for some small measure of
comfort. First the adults were separated from their
children amid cries and pleas for help. Next the old
ones were taken away and assigned to a place very near
the assimilation site. They were guarded by monstrous,
misshapen denizens of this shrouded netherland, who
constantly harangued the inmates with promises of pain
and extermination. Intermittent bursts of flame shot
up from jagged cracks in the ground, threatening to
consume anyone in its path. Shrieks of torment could
be heard piercing the murky atmosphere, further
unnerving the petrified captives. Only one seemed
unaffected by all the inflicted fear and turmoil.
Eriel's strength and determination soon pacified the
men and women with whom he was confined. When they all
became more calm and subdued, he began to speak to
them softly as an adult to his children. "Long ago you
entrusted me to protect the Book of Magica and to be
faithful to its special purpose. It must seem that I
have failed you and condemned us all to oblivion, but
fear not! This hell is only a test of your faith and
resolve. The power of Magica did not vanish in fire.
On the third day I will evoke the spell of
Restoration. United we shall return to Blessing and,
armed with the strength of Magica, we will be
triumphant. Many will perish, but Magica and our souls
cannot be restored until three days have passed. Take
heart my friends. Victory awaits you."
Even magic has its limitations and as Eriel explained
to his flock, the spell could not be activated until a
waiting period of at least three days. One third of
the souls of Blessing would be melded into the
Evilsyde collective before Eriel could be effective
with the words of Restoration.
The old ones were the first to go. Cries of
encouragement and hope were shouted to the condemned
as they trudged slowly to their fate. One by one they
were thrown into the assimilation chamber where a
blinding blue spark gave evidence of their demise.
With each burst Eriel's heavy heart ached with guilt
for his part in this slaughter of his charges. If only
he had not become so complacent. He above
all should never have let this tragedy transpire.
In the compound holding the young adults, an
insurrection of sorts was occurring. A boy of
seventeen years called Challis was urging an uprising
among his captured companions. Futile though it was,
it earned Challis a place in the cell adjoining
Eriel's. His rantings and ravings were soon quelled by
Eriel's quiet urging and the two settled into serious