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Deep beneath the temple floor, acolytes ran hither and yon, carrying bottles and flasks and beakers of god only knew what. In heart of all this bustle sat a man with a shaved and be-capped head, wearing all white, dripping a few drops of a blue mixture from a beaker in to a pink solution in a flask. When the third drop touched the solution, the flask exploded in a bright red flash, shock waves made containers burst, splashing their contents on to the acolytes. Several of the young men merely dropped to the writhing in agony as their skin fell from their body's, others gazed in horror at their own limbs as they changed color from delicate pink to blue and green, others still merely died on the spot. The man in white ignored them all. For in front of him, where the flask had once been, was a tiny red stone. No bigger than his thumb nail. He reached his hand for it. The man raised his clenched fist in the air and gazed at his prize. "I finally have it! The stone is m-" Before he could finish the sentence,hand glowed bright purple, his flesh lifted from the bones and he saw the stone enter his hand between the middle and ring finger. His very bones them selves began to mold around the stone, protecting it. As this happened the man in white tried to scream but no sound came out, tried to look away but could not. The stone was part of him now. A dieing boy knocked over a bottle in his jerky death throes, spilling the contents onto a support pillar. Almost instantaneously the acid burned through the column and started the process o destruction that take down the temple and half the city with it. The man stared at his hand as the flesh reattached itself. He felt the power of the stone, and then he knew no more.




Hopefully, I'll be able to update the story as time goes on.