NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: The Oldest Wizard
Since the dawn of time, wizards had walked among men, their existence intertwined with the natural magic that coursed through the world like unseen rivers of power. In those earliest days, magic was raw and untempered, a force of nature rather than a skill to be honed. Wizards of that era wielded this untamed energy with a primal instinct, their spells simple in form but colossal in might. Unlike the refined incantations of the future, their magic was unshackled by restraint, channeling the very will of existence itself.
Yet, despite their immense power, wizards and humans alike struggled to survive. Their greatest adversaries were the elves—beings of pure magic, ancient and eternal. Unlike humans, where only a few were born with the gift of magic, every elf was a master of sorcery from birth. Their power was not honed through study or discipline; it was inherent, a natural birthright that placed them leagues above the struggling wizards. With their command over the elements and the unseen forces, the elves ruled the land, leaving humans to cower in the shadows, their existence a ceaseless fight against extinction.
This was the darkest era of humanity. The world was painted in blood and sorrow, as men and wizards alike fell to elven might. It was during these desperate times that two brothers were born among the wizards—prodigies unlike any before them. The first brother possessed a rare gift: he could see the magic lanes of the world, the unseen threads that wove reality together. Through his insight, he discovered a way to call upon beings of immense power, entities beyond the world of men, and in doing so, he named them gods. The second brother, no less brilliant, sought mastery over the essence of life itself. He delved into the mysteries of the soul and the laws of binding, creating the first Unbreakable Vow, a contract that could chain even the most powerful beings.
Together, they waged war against the elves. The first brother, with his divine magic, called upon the power of gods, smiting the elves with forces beyond mortal comprehension. The second, with his mastery over contracts, bent those who remained to his will, forging a servitude that would extend through generations. Bound by an unbreakable decree, the elves were stripped of their dominion, forced into eternal servitude to mankind, to which later became known as house-elfs. With their victory, the brothers ushered in an age of security, a future where humanity could finally flourish.
Years passed, and the brothers grew older. The first, Solomon, was content, knowing he had secured a future for mankind. Yet the second brother was restless. He saw the vastness of the world and despaired at how little time was left to explore it. With nearly a hundred springs behind them, he felt the weight of mortality upon his shoulders. It was then that he made a decision—he would not allow death to claim him.
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The two stood together atop a cliff, the wind carrying the scent of the ancient trees that had borne witness to their journey. The sky stretched endlessly above them, as if reflecting the boundless paths of magic they had once walked side by side.
Solomon turned to his brother, his gaze heavy with sorrow. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice carrying both understanding and grief. "You are going against the very laws of nature."
The second brother sighed, the weight of his decision evident in his eyes. "Oh, Solomon," he murmured. "Did you not go against nature when you called upon powers beyond our world? Was it not you who first bent the laws that bound us?"
Solomon remained silent. His brother continued, his voice tinged with longing. "There is so much left to see, so much to learn. And yet, our time runs short, a hundred springs passed in a blink. I refuse to let death take me before I have unraveled every mystery this world holds. I shall make death my servant, not my master."
Solomon looked at him. Then, with a sad smile, he said, "I had hoped that we would spend what little time we have left together."
The second brother stepped forward and embraced him. "I am sorry for leaving you early."
Solomon closed his eyes, returning the embrace. "Then I wish you luck on your journey. And at its end, may you triumph over death and unravel all mysteries."
With that, the second brother turned and walked away, vanishing into the unknown, chasing the impossible. It was the last time the brothers would ever meet.
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Ten thousand years had passed since the parting of the two brothers. The world had changed countless times over, kingdoms had risen and crumbled into dust, and the once-primal magic of the past had been refined into something more delicate, more controlled. Yet, on this night, something ancient stirred once more.
The cries of a newborn filled the grand halls of Malfoy Manor, piercing through the dim candlelight that flickered against the ornate walls. A woman, her face glistening with the remnants of labor and exertion, cradled the infant close as she approached the man standing before her. His pale blond hair gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier, his sharp features unreadable as he turned his gaze upon the small bundle in her arms.
A small smile played upon her lips as she looked at him. "Congratulations, Lord Malfoy," she said gently. "You have a son."
The man stepped forward, his movements slow and calm, before carefully taking the newborn from her arms. His expression softened as he beheld his child, a rare warmth lighting his grey eyes.
"As agreed with my wife," he murmured, his voice quiet yet firm. "His name shall be Dante. Dante Malfoy."
The name was spoken with finality, sealing the child's identity in the long and storied history of the Malfoy lineage.
Unbeknownst to the proud father and the attendants watching the tender moment, the newborn, despite his undeveloped senses, was not entirely unaware. His mind, though shrouded in the haze of infancy, was alive with thought—thoughts far beyond what any infant should possess.
[This language… English? the dialect is derivative from England's?] The newborn thought to himself.
Even as he wailed in the arms of his father, fragments of memory emerged from the depths of his consciousness. The experiences of multiple lives, the knowledge that expands over countless eras, all hidden beneath the guise of newborn frailty.
[How long has it been since my last rebirth?] he wondered. [What has this world become?]
The oldest wizard in existence had been born once more.
And as the warmth of his father's arms cradled him, Dante Malfoy— a brother, a seeker of truth, a rebel against death—looked forward to the unknown wonders this new era had to offer.