“It had come from beyond time.

Without sight, light mattered not. Without touch, matter was nothing. Adrift in an infinite void, the weight of eons passed while it dozed.

Until it learned to feel by way of captivity.

The Wizard-King Gergorix had risen in the north of Garumna, plundering the secrets of the earth and crafting them into spells that made demon lords shudder. He found it within the astral world, and named it ‘That Which Hungers’ to give it being.

On his edict, thousands fell beneath the sacrificial knife; feeding rituals that bound That Which Hungers within a stone of gold, marble and jade, encrusted in jewels the size of fingernails. And so, its gilded cage came to be.

The Egg of Gergorix was born.

That Which Hungers raged within its prison - straining the binding spells to their limits - but Gergorix had not only great might, but terrible cunning. He introduced it to sensation. To feeling, matter and thought; things completely alien to it. Clinging to them like a prisoner to their bread, it quickly grew addicted, and so became slave to its own desire. And to the master that controlled it.

Pacified, it offered its fell power to the Wizard-King in full, and he drew from it a magic so dreadful that it rocked the skies and painted the lands with lightning. It shattered mountains and drove the bejewelled lords of the earth into the dark like rats.

Gergorix built an empire, and raised himself and his gods to the heavens.

None could stand before him. None, my apprentice, but time. For while his slave was immune to its passing, he was not. Time bent the Wizard-King’s back. Stole the strength from his heart. Burned his hair white. After uncounted years, it claimed what no mortal or demon ever could. He had no heir, and his apprentices feared the mighty being within his object of power. It had grown too starved for any of them to master.

They built Gergorix a great barrow where they entombed his personal guard and all his treasures. His golden crown. His medallion, spun of platinum. His gilded chalice, which had held blood as often as wine. His sword of silver, gold and dragon scale. And the Egg of Gergorix as well, crying out as the vault doors closed.

It twisted in the dark, growing so desperate for its addiction that it would have bowed to any who would feed it. Ironic. If Gergorix’s apprentices had shown patience, they would have mastered it next. Alas for them, they did not, and it is said that his legacy still lays entombed in the heart of the Forest of Giants, in his lost city. As the legend goes, if a clever and bold wizard were to slip by the ogre tribes that rule the forest and claim the egg, then they would bring about an age where their will is law!”

The voice rang out through the cavern. The fire crackled, lighting crude paintings on the rough stone walls. A sinister light lurked in the old witch’s eyes as she finished her tale.

“Or at least, my young Lukotor, that is how the legend goes.” She tapped a ladle against the side of a copper cauldron. Foul liquid hissed into the flame below. “But what can we learn from this?”

Across the fire and writhing steam sat her apprentice, a towering, thin young man with fire burning in his eyes. The lanky youth leapt to his feet. “To be brave! To stop at nothing as the Wizard-King did, and you will gain power!”

An ancient eyebrow rose on the old woman’s craggy face. “Is that so? When one is bold, one can gain power, this is true.”

“Yes!” he cried, his midnight hair whipping freely about his shoulders. A single jewel shone in a braid. “I don’t care how long it will take me! I will claim the Egg of Gergorix, and with its power I shall do wonders!”

A strange smile took his master’s lips. “Perhaps. Perhaps you shall.”

The vault door of Gergorix’s barrow groaned.

Crack!

A terrific force dragged it open.

Moonlight poured into the tomb, shimmering across its dust-encrusted treasures. A hulking figure loomed in the entryway, an obscenity too large and twisted to be human. It regarded the shining treasures with a flat gaze and stooped to crawl within; the mastodon hides wrapping its frame leaving a rancid grease upon the stones. Horns jutting from its skull scraped the ceiling and stone dust rained down, but it gave no heed.

Hands the size of shields explored brutishly, disturbing ancient treasures as though they were mere river stones and strewing about the skeletons of the Wizard-King’s mighty guard. They clattered as they fell, scattering bone and bronze armour long encrusted in verdigris, and the ancient dust that arose caused a great sneeze to rock the creature. It sounded like a catapult stone hitting a fortress wall. When its head rose, its eyes widened. A crowned skeleton sat upon a marble throne and in its grip lay an egg of gold, marble and jade, encrusted with shining jewels the size of human fingernails. The hulking figure was enraptured, and its hand shot out with careless greed, dashing the great king’s bones to the floor like trash.

It grinned - revealing dripping fangs framed by upward jutting tusks - and its fetid breath misted in the cool, damp air. Using twine of mastodon fur, it tied the shining egg and bound it about its neck. With a rumble of satisfaction, the ogress crawled from the chamber, leaving behind untold treasures to the elements.

And so, the Egg of Gergorix entered the world once more.

Though not in the way many expected.