Red flames flickered in the dark room. A bronze six-armed, horned statue sat in front of him, and Magus's eyes glanced over the pounded metalwork. He scoffed quietly to himself. A pathetic idol. To fabricate such an image of power . . . it doesn't even resemble Lavos in the slightest.
Magus frowned, remembering that age long past in the Palace of Zeal.
The Mammon Machine pulsed, waves of raw power roll from it. A deep and dark power rumbled from the device, something . . . evil. A blue light spilled out, bled over the grand hall around him, slowly caused all contrast to wane until the world was a pool of blue.
The world shook around him and, unable to tell up or down, he fell. A black circle of chilling nothingness opened under Gaspar. He hardly had the chance to gasp before he fell through it. Another opened under Belthasar, who does have the chance to cry out weakly as the dark path dragged him in. Yet another opened under Melchior, greedily sucking him from sight.
The evil energy, such corrupting power . . . and now it was opening around him. A primal scream he would have denied could have come from an Enlightened One ripped from his throat, and he hears his sister, Schala, crying for him.
Magus blinked. Janus. A name I once called my own. He threw his cape over his shoulder, a bitter taste perched upon his tongue. But I have not been him for ages. The powerful sorcerer looked up at the statue, reminding him of his goal here. It is time. "Neuga ziena zieber zom . . ."
Magus was dimly aware of approaching footsteps from the distance behind him.
"Now the chosen time has come . . ."
A sword started to slide from its sheathe, still far enough in the distance that it didn't divert his attention. The spell to awaken Lavos was his focus.
"Exchange this world for . . ."
The sword left its sheath and now the light, strange footsteps neared enough for Magus to recognize. The voice of Glenn snarled, "Magus!"
"I . . . it's that stupid frog!" Magus faltered in surprise, then a smirk pulled at his mouth at the title Glenn spat at him. Yes, Magus, but a title now, for my name has been lost. Magus glanced over his shoulder. "Kissed any princesses lately?"
A young woman who looked suspiciously like an improperly-dressed Queen Leene gaped, a flush touched her cheeks. The frog, once the knight Glenn, swung his sword into a ready position and narrowed his eyes. "I rather enjoy this form. And I oweth it all to you!" The leather of his gloves groan as he tightened his fists on the hilt. "I have something for you!"
The feel of a familiar power drew his curiosity and Magus turned around. "Ah . . . !" Magus closed his mouth and swallowed quietly, maintaining his mask of confidence. "The Masamune! I bet you're just dying to use it."
A gust tugged at the flames in the room, a dark wind the likes of which he hadn't felt since another day long ago in the kingdom of Zeal when five strange visitors came into Enhasa. "The black wind begins to blow." Magus's smirk returned. "Okay, give me your best shot . . ."
The sorcerer leapt high into the air, twisting backwards to land at the end of the circle of dark blue flames, his scythe instantly in his hand. "If you're prepared for the void!"
And Frog, once called Glenn, charged with the Masamune held high, bellowing a battle cry.