The ball of flame flared to life, suddenly bathing the small room in its eerie light. The shadows danced in slow patterns at the walls. From the single, small window, the moonlight shone through, its dull yellow meeting the fireball’s silver.

He stood there, handsome features twisted into a wicked smile. The flamelight played over his face, shining against his pale green eyes and highlighting the proud expression that replaced the smile in a second.

The wickedness had gone to his eyes. As the flame’s color shifted to a pale blue, to blood red, and finally to black, that gleam only grew brighter.

"I’ve done it," he whispered, then repeated it, each reiteration louder than the first.

Suddenly, he broke into laughter. It’s been months since he’s left the Academy, where they could teach him no more but refused him the official status of Mage Warrior. He’d heard rumors as to why, of course, that he had refused to go through the Trials—in actuality, he’d passed with flying colors—that he had done wrong to the Archmages in charge of the school. Only one of them he reveled in, that he had so much power they had known not what to do with him.

‘Rumor, pah!’ he scoffed.

He had definitely proved true that last "rumor". The magic he had conjured in this very room was proof enough. Hellfire. For centuries upon centuries, none had been able to create it. There were those rare, still-whispered stories that the High Mages had the instructions for hellfire hidden deep in his tower, located deep in the Forbidden Mountains on the South Pole of the world. The spell was passed down from Mahess herself. Straight from the goddess of magic, as the simple, mortal woman from which magical abilities originated was revered as. And he wielded its power. He was the only one that could, now knowing only he possessed maybe more of his gift than the hellfire spell called for. His magic, he recalled from the old school’s lessons, that would only grow over time.

For a moment, he wondered at the color of the flame. Then he shrugged, supposingit was black to match the name of "hellfire". His initial smirk returned. With this, he didn’t have to settle for the Mage Warrior title. He could be as high as the Archmages.

Ruler of the world. That was it. Dren, King of the world... No, he could be "Dren" no more. It was not a fitting name for a king. He needed better. a name ran through his mind.

"Exdeath," he said out loud, testing the word out. He liked it. "Exdeath, King of the world."