《A Witchery Fate ("The Witcher" Universe CYOA into a Mage)》 A Body Before Time Itself CYOA Link: https://imgchest.com/p/wl7lavd3yx2 The Build: Body Twisted Spheres (-1) (Mage) Destiny Awaits Source (-5) Mutant (-2 destiny shards) Core Magic Fire (-10) Empower (-5) Legend (-1 destiny shard) Alt Magic Ritualism (-5) Skills Luck (-21) MAX level Goetia (-10) Master of Mirrors (-1 Destiny shard) Alchemy (-5) Magnum Opus (-10) Mutant Demonic Possession (-5) Chimera: Genie (Air) (-5) (glowing lightning eyes) Alzur¡¯s Creation (-10) Phoenix (-3) Mutagen Thief (-5) _________________________ The stone chamber was dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the air thick with the scent of burnt herbs and ancient tomes. A circle of runes glowed faintly on the cold, stone floor, pulsating with the energy of forbidden magic. The mage, clad in dark robes, his face hidden beneath a heavy hood, chanted incantations in a guttural, forgotten tongue. His voice trembled with both fear and anticipation. He had prepared for this moment for years, studying the dark art of Goetia in secret, risking everything for a chance to summon the Master of Mirrors¡ªa being of unimaginable power, capable of twisting reality and granting the deepest desires. This was Ardan Belath, a mage whose once-promising career had long since veered into the dark alleys of forbidden knowledge. His appearance was as gaunt and weathered as his soul; a man in his late fifties, with hollow cheeks and deep-set eyes that flickered with the remnants of a once-brilliant intellect. His hair, streaked with gray and unkempt, fell in disarray around his shoulders, giving him a wild, almost haunted look. The robe he wore was tattered and threadbare, a far cry from the regal garments he once donned as a respected scholar of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Ardan had not always been a practitioner of the dark arts. In his youth, he had been a prodigy, praised for his sharp mind and innovative approaches to magic. However, his ambitions had always outstripped his abilities. As the years passed and his peers advanced, Ardan found himself increasingly sidelined. The accolades he craved eluded him, and bitterness began to fester in his heart. His studies grew darker, his experiments more dangerous. Whispers of his involvement with forbidden practices circulated among the Brotherhood, but Ardan cared little for their judgment. He was determined to prove his worth, no matter the cost. His explorations, both physical and metaphorical, grew ever-riskier. One day, entirely by chance, he had stumbled upon the tomb of a long-forgotten pre-Conjunction mage. The tomb was so old that its contents predated the invention of paper -- and, even, media like vellum and papyrus. And, what contents they were! It was in those dust-covered clay tablets that Ardan was able to glean that which was utterly forbidden. Goetia was considered the darkest of arts, capable of summoning strange beings from beyond the veil, which many have called "Demons." So dangerous are some of these entities, that both the Brotherhood and Clergy of every known religion have decreed a mandatory Death penalty for every Goetia practitioner. Yet, there are lines even most "dark" mages won''t cross.... For, among these demonic entities, was one that captured Ardan''s imagination and stirred his obsession: the Master of Mirrors, a being of unparalleled power, rumored to be able to twist Fate itself, and grant wishes. Ardan¡¯s initial curiosity quickly grew into an all-consuming desire. He spent years piecing together fragmented texts, translating forgotten chants, and genuinely risking his very life to acquire the knowledge necessary to perform the current ritual. The Master of Mirrors was not a being to be summoned lightly. Ardan knew the risks, but his ambition had long since overshadowed his caution. His own failures had driven him to the edge, and he saw this as his last chance¡ªhis only chance¡ªto achieve the kind of Greatness that had always eluded him. His name would be spoken of with veneration. His abilities would become supreme. His achievements will be legendary! And no mere taboos created by decrepit old fools would ever stand in his way! As Ardan chanted the final incantation, the words of the ancient language rolling off his tongue with a mix of reverence and desperation, the runes on the floor pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly light. His heart pounded in his chest as the energy in the chamber reached a crescendo, the very air crackling with power. He could feel it¡ªsomething was coming through, something powerful! His breath hitched as a figure began to materialize within the circle, coalescing from the shimmering light. This was it. He had succeeded. The Master of Mirrors had answered his call. As the light from the runes dimmed, revealing the figure within, Ardan¡¯s eyes took in the unexpected sight. The man before him was tall, standing just over six feet, with a lanky build that spoke more of long hours spent hunched over books than any kind of physical exertion. His skin was fair, almost pale, suggesting he wasn¡¯t one to spend much time outdoors. His face, though youthful, carried an intensity that hinted at a sharp mind always at work, constantly processing the world around him. There was an undeniable intelligence in his eyes¡ªeyes that were a deep, contemplative green, set behind a pair of finely-made glasses. The glasses themselves were unusual, unlike anything Ardan had ever seen. The frames were minimalist, crafted from an unassuming, pinkish metal -- but the presence of which caused Ardan''s Geomancy senses to practically scream at him. This was an alloy unknown to the world, sleek and modern, almost impossibly light -- yet sturdier than any non-magical metal he''d ever seen! The lenses, too, were a marvel -- not quite traditional glass, were perfectly clear, without a single scratch or smudge -- a testament to their improbable craftsmanship. The being''shair was dark brown, slightly tousled, as though he had run his hands through it one too many times in frustration or thought. It was cut short, but not too neatly, with a few strands falling across his forehead, giving him a slightly disheveled look. His jawline was defined, but softened by a hint of stubble that suggested he had either forgotten or neglected to shave that morning. He wore an outfit that was at once deceptively simple and utterly strange. At the top, there was a cotton shirt featuring some kind of runic inscription of a giant, stylized rune ("S") -- which would not be TOO implausible, except the shirt''s color was whiter than freshly fallen snow, and the thread count so fine that it was impossible to perceive, even from a few feet away! Not even the wealthiest of Kings could have possessed such luxury in such a simple garment -- not because Royals lacked wealth, but simply because no tailor possessed the means of producing such a thing, and no mage would be willing to spend countless years researching the best way to make cotton shirts. The lower half was clad in cotton pants, dyed sky blue, that were of similarly deceptive simplicity. In the being''s posture, there was an awkwardness, a slight hunch to his shoulders that spoke of someone more accustomed to sitting at a desk than standing in a circle of glowing runes. But there was also a sense of curiosity, of wonder in the way his eyes darted around the chamber, taking in every detail with a mixture of fear and fascination. Why was it putting on a show of ignorance? Was this a disguise, a trick to mislead the unworthy? The mage¡¯s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every detail, searching for the telltale signs of the being¡¯s true nature. Yes, indeed. This must be the Master of Mirrors, cloaked in an unassuming form to test him. After all, legends spoke of the entity¡¯s legendary cunning, as well as its penchant for games and deception. Ardan¡¯s mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind this appearance. ¡°Master of Mirrors,¡± Ardan said, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and uncertainty. ¡°I have summoned you to fulfill my desires. Grant me your power, and in return, I will offer you my unwavering allegiance!¡± The young man¡ªstill slightly disoriented¡ªlooked around the chamber, then at Ardan, acting perplexed by the situation. ¡°Uh, are you talking to me?¡± he asked. Ardan couldn''t help but note that the being''s tone sounded more confused than commanding. If Wishes Were Horses Previously... Are you talking to me? Ardan couldn''t help but note that the being''s tone sounded more confused than commanding. --- Ardan¡¯s breath hitched as he stared at the figure before him. Despite the man¡¯s appearance, Ardan¡¯s mind clung desperately to the idea that this was indeed the Master of Mirrors, disguised in a form beyond his comprehension. After all, the alternative was failure -- and failure was not an option! Ardan straightened, his tone shifting to one of deep reverence, his earlier frustration forgotten. ¡°Yes, I am talking to you, O Master of Mirrors,¡± he said, his voice trembling with awe. ¡°I... I sought to summon you, to beseech your aid. I have studied your legends, followed the ancient rites¡ª¡± He paused, searching for the right words. ¡°I seek your power, your wisdom. My life... it has been one of struggle, of ambition thwarted by those pathetic, decrepit old fools who do not see my worth. I wish to rewrite my fate, to rise above those who have cast me aside. I am willing to offer anything¡ªmy loyalty, my soul¡ªif you will grant me this wish.¡± As Ardan spoke, the man seemed to drift away mentally, his eyes unfocused, as though he were listening to something far away. This went on for some time. Ardan hesitated, uncertain if he had somehow offended the being before him. But then the man blinked, his expression shifting subtly, as if something profound had settled within him. When he spoke again, it was with a calm, almost serene authority, a tone that only deepened Ardan¡¯s conviction that this was indeed the Master of Mirrors. ¡°State your desire clearly,¡± the Demon said, his voice measured and deliberate. ¡°Tell me exactly what you seek, and let us see if we can come to terms.¡± Ardan¡¯s heart raced. The words were exactly what he had hoped for, the promise of power dangling just within reach. He stepped closer to the edge of the circle, his whole body quivering with anticipation. Now that real power was within his grasp, what should he Wish for? Wealth? Magical abilities? Unparalleled reputation? To be worshiped and adored as the genius he deserved to be... Perhaps... even Immortality itself? Slowly, a manic glint of madness entered his eyes. There was no line Ardan wouldn''t cross to get what he wanted, and there would be no compromises here. "My Lord... I want to rise above the rabble and obtain the recognition I deserve. I wish to become the most famous and celebrated mage of this age, to have wealth beyond measure, and to possess such a legendary reputation that even the greatest sorcerers would kneel to beg for insights from me. I want to be Immortal, and to be remembered for all eternity as the one who defied fate and reshaped the world according to his will.¡± A hint of annoyance crossed over the being''s expression, before transforming into an expression of realization, followed by an almost uncontrollable amusement. While the man schooled his expression to something more neutral and professional, Ardan became worried that he may have overstepped his bounds with that outrageous wish. While he definitely deserved recognition, perhaps having this many components turned a single wish into many -- and the stories always cautioned against trying to trick the Master of Mirrors. He only ever granted a single wish. Ardan steeled himself, almost opening his mouth to apologize and explain that he would gladly settle for any one of the stated desires, but... the being beat him to the punch. "Oh my, Ambitious, aren''t we?" the demon spoke with calm amusement. "Fortunately for you, I have just the thing to fulfill your desire. There exists an Elixir of Life, an alchemical marvel, capable of returning the body of anyone who drinks it to its ideal state. And, when I say anyone -- I do mean anyone at all. Elves. Dwarves. Witchers. Mutants. Mages or Monsters. Even pets. It matters not, for the potion will work on anyone who drinks it just the same. Not only that, but, as a mere side effect, it also happens to serve as a Panacea¡ªcompletely curing any and all diseases, even genetic ones, and healing all wounds. Even if taken at death¡¯s door, a single sip of the stuff will return the subject to her prime, restoring youth, vitality.... and even fertility.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The man paused, letting the words -- and their full implications -- fully sink in, then casually added, ¡°I can provide you with the written formula, thus allowing you to brew as much of the elixir as your heart desires. Just think about it: once you brew the potion and publish your findings, not only will you be forever young, but your name will also be etched into the annals of history for all of time¡ªimmortality, ungodly wealth, and eternal Greatness, just as you wished. Everyone, from Sorceresses and Queens to wealthy merchants, university scholars, and everyone in between -- you would have them all in the palm of your hand. The whole world will know your name! Well? How about it?¡± Ardan¡¯s breath caught, and his eyes widened as he listened, his heart pounding with anticipation. He had spoken his heart''s desire, hoping to obtain at least something, but this.... this was beyond anything he could have hoped for! ¡°And... in return?¡± he asked cautiously, knowing that such a gift would come with a price. The being nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. ¡°In return, all I desire is to learn all of your useful knowledge¡ªevery spell, every skill, every secret you possess. Moreover, for such a time as I remain present in this world in physical form, you will agree to serve me faithfully and loyally, never even thinking of harming my interests directly or indirectly. You will follow all of my orders, absolutely and without question. So... How about it? Ready to receive your prize?¡± Ardan barely even hesitated, his mind racing. The terms were... unexpectedly generous! A mere copy of his knowledge, and agreement to follow the being''s direction while it was physically present in the world? No need to swear his family''s servitude to the 7th generation? No need to give up his soul? And that reward... the knowledge of the Elixir was beyond his wildest aspirations. To live forever, to become fabulously rich, to be remembered as the greatest mage of all time¡ªit was everything he had ever wanted. After only a single moment of tense silence, he nodded eagerly, his voice firm. ¡°I accept your terms.¡± The demon nodded confidently, his calm and steady voice cutting through the silence. "Very well. Now, speak the entirety of your Wish aloud, in full, with all of the terms we just discussed. Let the words be clear, so that there is no doubt about the pact we are making.¡± Ardan, feeling the weight of the moment, took a deep breath. His heart pounded, but his resolve was unwavering. Slowly, deliberately, he began to speak, his voice echoing in the chamber. ¡°I, Ardan Belath, wish to obtain the formula for the Elixir of Life, an alchemical elixir capable of returning the drinker''s body to its ideal state, cure all diseases, and heal all wounds. With this elixir, I shall achieve eternal life, become wealthy and respected, and ensure my name is recorded in history forever.¡± He paused, looking at the being for approval, and, after receiving an affirming nod, Ardan gathered his thoughts, then continued, ¡°As compensation for this boon, I wish to share all of my knowledge with you and to serve you faithfully and loyally while you are physically present in this world, never harming your interests, directly or indirectly, and always following any order you give me.¡± There was a pause, as if reality itself briefly recoiled in horror, and Ardan suddenly felt a great weight in the core of his being, as if powerful icy fingers reaches into his very heart, mind, and soul -- compelling him to follow the orders of his new Master, and mercilessly strangling even the concept of defiance or betrayal. The being''s eyes unfocused briefly, before he laughed happily. "Granted! It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ardan. Now, come forth and collect your prize!" The man walked directly out of the summoning circle -- simply ignoring dozens of enchantments that were supposed to contain anything non-human. He then proceeded to walk over to the desk in the corner of the tower''s summoning chamber, and began writing out the alchemical formula and detailed preparation instructions for the vaunted Elixir -- promptly giving Ardan the completed parchment. Ardan was filled with ecstasy and excitement... but that excitement slowly gave way to confusion, then a dawning realization, anger, and horror. "What.... what horse-piss is this?" Ardan asked? "How am I supposed to find these ingredients? I know cow''s milk is common enough, but the rest of these? A Jinn''s essence? Fluids from a Corruptor demon? Phoenix mutagen? Do Phoenixes even exist in this world outside of children''s tales? Where in the 19 blue hells am I meant to find any of these ingredients? Are you messing with me, Master Mirror?" The Despicable Demon had the temerity to cackle -- CACKLE -- in his face, while his eyes glowed with malicious mirth and indigo lightning. "I agreed to supply you with the authentic formula for the Elixir of Life, and that is exactly what you''ve received. I never said the Elixir would be easy for you to make, nor have I agreed to supply you with the ingredients. Now... how about you give me a tour of my new tower while we discuss the duties required of your new life as my servant."