Control is everything when using Magic, but the line to darkness is but a spell away - Me
A flash lit up the blackened the sky as a young man appeared, landing painfully to the ground. The man groaned in pain, pulling himself to his knees, and kneaded his temples. He stopped, feeling the heat in the air, and looked around. ‘Fuck,’ he cursed and dragged himself to his feet.
The man was Avráe, the Chaotic, having gotten his name from the darkness which seemed to cling to him. That, and his ability to be a bastard to everyone.
His green eyes took in the scene around him, and he closed them as he remembered why he was here in the first place. The screams of those innocents would plague him forever. The last thing he remembered was seeing his wife and daughter lying dead…
Avráe thought he should feel something, like a deep-set sadness or anger at seeing them like that, but he felt nothing. He supposed he was numb, and the gravity of his situation hadn’t hit him yet.
He was on a beach, but instead of water, the ocean was molten lava. The trees along the shore were dried up and dead, having no water to sustain them.
Avráe knew the stories of this island. There was no escape, and the Angels only sent the worst kind of criminals to her shores. They all die, either by starvation, thirst or the claws of wild animals. The Angels set up a magical barrier, only one way in. All Magic dispelled.
Avráe looked at his hands, missing the familiar tingling of Magic which would fill his being. It was a feeling he had long been accustomed to, and now it was gone he felt… empty. He kicked himself, knowing he delved too deep into the arts. The power he wielded, was too much for him to control.
He left devastation in his wake. No wonder he was in this god-forsaken place.
Shaking his head, he made his way into the dead forest to die… like all the rest.