The Book of the Twelve:Part Twelve

     XII-I. Oberon, the Conjurer

     It may seem strange for a wizard among a group of twelve wizards to have such a mundane title, but there was nothing mundane about Oberon’s conjuring. He discovered early in his life the five mighty Jewels of Power, that could be used to imbue wands with tremendous power. Seeking to protect this power from misuse, he cast the five jewels into a vortex, keeping a spell to summon them secret to all save himself. He could conjure them at will to aid his allies as he saw fit.

     When the Great Empire was founded, he became a student of Xantan. They both studied the mysteries surrounding eternal life, though Xantan made far more progress. It was Oberon who ultimately informed the rest of the Circle that Xantan intended to betray them, and sealed the fate of the entire Empire.

     The skinny Kyrii was no different than the dozens of others who made their way to Meadow Vale when word of its bounty spread. If he had a story, he did not tell it. Just another refugee from a broken village, plagued by bandits and evil wizards.

     He called himself Oberon. If that was really his name, no one asked or cared. Many travellers reinvented themselves on the road.

     Haestil noted his talents with magic soon after his arrival, and lent him one of her books. He devoured it like a hungry child and, impressed, she opened her library to him.

     He studied there for many long nights until he hit upon a tome that spoke of the Jewels of Power, hidden in the mountains. Haestil thought it nothing more than a legend, dismissed it. But Oberon was young and the young believe foolish ideas.

     He travelled west from Meadow Vale along the mountain paths, coming to a cave long forgotten and covered in vines. As he explored deeper, he came across a solid wall of metal with an odd sheen.

     Kayannin, he knew from his studies. Unbreakable, even though he saw the impression of a door. He understood from the books that such Kayannin doors could only be opened by a specific spell, chosen by the one who locked it.

     Oberon tried for months to open that door, exhausting his knowledge and returning to Meadow Vale to learn more from Haestil several times. At last, he found the correct spell — one to summon a light in the shape of an eye. The vault door slid back and inside Oberon saw his prize, five crystal spheres of magic, each coloured after a different school of magic. Fire, ice, shock, life, and spectral. The five Jewels of Power.

     He took them, and felt their power at once. With these orbs, he could do great things. Terrible things.

     He returned to Meadow Vale and showed Haestil. She was impressed, of course, but instilled in him that they would be dangerous if they ever fell into the wrong hands.

     Oberon agreed. He studied in Haestil’s library for many months, until he discovered a very special spell of concealment. It involved casting the objects into a pocket dimension, the access to which was controlled by a unique spell that he had not found recorded anywhere else. He performed it, casting the Jewels of Power into their new prison. Then he ripped the page from the book.

     He left Haestil’s library and headed west. At the foot of the mountain, he found a hollowed tree, and rolled up the page, hiding it within. The chances of anyone happening upon it, at least any time soon, were slim to none. Oberon alone would hold the secrets of the Jewels.

     He returned to Meadow Vale to find a group of travellers had arrived, headed by an Eyrie and a Blumaroo.

     ***

     Xantan and Oberon walked through the courtyard of the first castle of what would become Neopia City. The noise of construction was all around them, as new buildings were thrown up by the settlers that were flocking to the area by the day. Word of this new paradise was spreading far and wide.

     “The challenge, of course, will be what to do when it is finished,” Xantan was saying.

     “What do you mean?” Oberon asked.

     “We will overcome all of life’s hardships here,” Xantan said. “All of them. But the most challenging one of all will be death itself. But we must overcome it, we simply must.”

     “A wizard that attained immortality would have to be the most powerful wizard that ever lived,” Oberon said.

     “Yes,” Xantan agreed. “He would.”

     He gave the young Kyrii a roguish grin.

     “Care for a wager?” Xantan asked.

     “What do you mean?”

     “A bet,” Xantan said. “You are a skilled mage, Oberon. You are young, but in time you may be one of the best we have. A race, then. We both devote our energies to researching a way to prolong and eventually conquer death. The winner, the first to attain it, will be known by the other as a true Master Wizard. Until then, I shall name you as my apprentice.”

     “I accept your wager,” Oberon said.

     They shook.

     Together, they would build an Empire. Together they would, in time, tear it apart.

     XII-II. Oberon, the Arcanist

     Oberon mysteriously did not participate in the sieges of Kal Panning and the Temple of Roo. His motives remain unclear, some claiming he saw through Mastermind’s deception, others still saying he maintained loyalty to Xantan even in his exile. What is clear is that he remained in Neopia City while the rest of the Circle went south. There, he raided the Empire’s treasure house and stole away several treasures like the Staff of Ni-Tas and the Keladrian Medallion. These, he sent to the Empire’s Research Facility. In his corruption, he sought to seed chaos among the Empire’s surviving members.

     His work done, he disappeared, resurfacing only briefly to investigate a mysterious door in the Techo Mountains and a duel with fellow Circle member Ifuli Jomm. Although Oberon is said to have survived that battle, he was never seen again.

     Oberon waited until the two armies of the Great Empire left Neopia City, one heading south, the other west.

     He watched from the window of the council chambers. Waited until the last suit of armour was nothing more than a glint on the horizon.

     Then, he went to work.

     He understood now, so much. It was Mastermind. He had been keeping them all chained. Restrained. Caged. But now he was free from his influence. Free to see the situation as it really was.

     Xantan’s curse had a hold of him. Had a hold of all of them. There was no use denying it. There would be no cure. Better to embrace it, and run forward to the logical conclusion. The curse was designed to weed them out. To make the Circle fight amongst each other until none remained, and then summon Xantan back from whatever grave he had expected to lie in.

     Xantan, of course, was not dead. Only imprisoned. A key part of his scheme had failed. But still, the Circle would fight each other and decay the world until only one remained.

     Oberon remembered the bet he made with Xantan, all those years before.

     If there was to only be one of the Circle left standing, he would ensure it would be him.

     He made his way to the Circle’s vaults and took the Staff of Ni-Tas. It had not been used since the day Xantan had been banished.

     To unravel the Empire would be the first step. Make sure that they could not rebuild what had been broken.

     He summoned a servant. Gave him instructions to deliver the staff to the Research Facility to the southeast. There, he knew, it would find its way into the hands of a greedy researcher who would use it for their own gains. Oberon had toured the facility many times. He knew the one. Rollay.

     With that done, he took his leave of the city.

     When the Temple of Roo and Kal Panning fell, the rest of the Circle would fight amongst themselves. Oberon would wait in the shadows, and pick them off as he needed.

     The rest would be child’s play.

     ***

     The Circle fell, as Oberon knew they would. Tradym and Polmith sunk each other upon the Summer Sea. Zhadoom fell victim to his own ambitions. Bamon-Sal and Lamora, Mastermind took care of. Oberon dealt with Haestil, Gyn-Marg, and Ifuli Jomm.

     That left only Mastermind and Jahbal. Oberon was sure the Blumaroo had feld to Jahbal’s side in the prison of Two Rings. Try as he might, Oberon could never breach the barrier over it. He had to make do with the idea that someone, somehow, would one day find the key to the passage between the valley, and slay the duo.

     He watched as Jahbal’s armies of monsters rampaged across the lands. He tormented and pillaged the surviving cities. Meadow Vale was gone, turned to a swamp. The survivors built themselves a town at the edge, near the mountains, and made themselves easy pickings. Sunny City, freed from Ifuli’s burn, rebuilt, but never to the same degree. Neopia City’s grand spires fell to disrepair, and then began to fall quite literally. The Research Facility was overrun, becoming a monster infested jungle. Kal Panning and the Temple of Roo remained tombs.

     Gradually, the world began to shrink. Oberon terrorised at its edges, becoming known as the Arcanist for his use of spells no one else knew.

     It must have been near two hundred years he spent like that. Glorious days where he would laugh himself to sleep at the joy of all the destruction he was causing. Neopia was dying, and he would dance in the fire.

     He never remembered the exact day when it happened, but it changed his life. Changed all of their lives. Some better, some worse.

     He watched as above him, the dark clouds began to brighten. The thunder and lightning stopped. The long rains ceased. And then, the clouds rolled back to reveal the sun.

     It warmed his aged skin, and across the land it served only to illuminate all that was lost.

     Stars were falling from the sky. No, not stars. People.

     Six colours. Blue, green, purple, yellow, white, and orange. The six elements they said the Faeries commanded.

     One of them fell right before him, impacting on the ground without harming herself.

     It was a Faerie, purple in colour. Tall and slender, with lavender skin and a grey streak in her hair.

     “What is happening?” Oberon demanded.

     “The war in Faerieland is over,” the Faerie said as she turned to see him. “Queen Fyora has ascended the throne. We Faeries are free to return to Neopia once more.”

     “I’ve read about you,” Oberon said suspiciously. “You are one of the evil ones. The ones they call Dark Faeries.”

     She looked at him with a ruthless smirk.

     “Oh, honey,” she replied. “I’m the Darkest.”

     The End.