The night in San Agustín was thick. The moon was obscured by dense clouds that cast a faint gray glow over the stone figures surrounding the valley. The monoliths of the necropolis seemed to observe the scene, covered in moss and runes that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
A group of mages from the Alliance from different regions of South America worked silently within a circle. They traced symbols on the ground with golden dust and blood, combining them with ancient forbidden chants.
At the top of a hill, Vinda Rosier watched everything closely.
Her dark robe fluttered gently in the night wind, her gray eyes shining with controlled fanaticism. At her side, Percival Graves reviewed a scroll with diagrams and formulas, his face hardened with concentration.
"The ritual will be ready at dawn," reported one of the Colombian sorcerers, approaching them. "The energy lines will converge just as the sun touches the statues in the valley... But," he hesitated, "this place was not made for this."
Vinda glanced at him sideways, her voice cold and elegant.
"There's nothing to worry about, OK?"
The man lowered his head without answering and returned to the circle, a hint of fear in his eyes.
Graves remained silent for a long time, watching as the ritual dust intertwined with the energy of the place. Finally, he spoke in a serious, inquisitive tone.
"You still haven't told me what you hope to find here, Vinda. Not even Grindelwald wanted to set foot on this land."
Vinda slowly approached the edge of the circle. Lowering her voice, she asked,
"Tell me, Percival... Do you know what a Horcrux is?"
Graves turned to her, surprised by the question, his eyes wide open.
"What are you saying? That's forbidden magic. Only a madman would dare..." He paused, thinking he understood something. "Are you implying that Gellert...?"
"No," Vinda interrupted, her tone icy. "But you know the old legends, don't you, Percival? The Europeans dreamed of the relics, the wand, the cloak, and the stone... that's true. But in the west, there was a man who discovered something deeper. He didn't want to control death... he sought to surpass it."
Graves looked at her suspiciously.
"Are you talking about... Herpo the Foul?"
She smiled with satisfaction.
"Exactly. He understood that death was not a chain... that the soul should not... disappear."
She carefully took out a small chest sealed with Greek runes. Graves took a step back when he felt the cold emanating from it.
"What the hell is that?" he asked cautiously.
Vinda opened it slowly.
Inside was a green stone, carved with a symbol that glowed faintly, pulsing as if it were breathing.
"I found it under some Greek ruins," she said, without taking her eyes off the object. "The accompanying texts spoke of a fragment of Herpo's soul... of his attempt to achieve immortality."
Graves frowned, incredulous.
"That stone is his Horcrux? All records of Herpo were destroyed for a reason." Graves looked her in the eyes, incredulous. "You're trying to revive him."
"Exactly," replied Vinda, her voice a whisper, as if savoring each word. "Herpo was seeking something much greater, to transcend death itself. If we manage to awaken him... if we gain his knowledge... the future Gellert desires will be fulfilled."
Graves looked away toward the shadows of the valley.
The wizards continued to prepare the circle, while the ground emitted a humming sound, as if the earth were complaining.
"Playing with souls never ends well, Rosier."
She looked at him coldly.
"Fire only destroys those who fear being burned."
He turned his gaze back to the ritual circle.
It glowed, marking the lines of power that stretched across the necropolis, connecting the statues like nerves in a sleeping body. The entire valley seemed to beat to the rhythm of the object Vinda held.
"At dawn," she whispered, "the earth will split open and Herpo the Foul will awaken."
Graves closed his eyes, feeling the dark energy seeping through the air. He knew it was too late to stop it, and in the back of his mind, a voice whispered that the price for this knowledge would be much higher than Vinda imagined.
The afternoon sun was setting over the mountains south of Huila, bathing the hills and rivers among the thick vegetation in gold.
One by one, the members of the Council of the Sun appeared.
First Yara dos Santos, enveloped in an emerald green glow, followed by Tupaq Illari, whose arrival caused the ground beneath his feet to blossom. Santiago Ferraro arrived through a crack of light, while Catalina Rojas and Alejandro Cruz materialized almost simultaneously.
"I thought you were exaggerating, Anayan," said Santiago, looking around cautiously, "But this... this is something else."
"Yes," Catalina nodded, adjusting her poncho over her shoulders. "I passed through Bogotá before coming here, and the magic flow meters started behaving erratically." She paused for a moment, noticing how the pre-Columbian statues seemed to follow her with their gaze. "This is much more dangerous."
Anayan looked at the carved figures surrounding them. The monoliths of San Agustín, large statues that radiated a force that others could barely perceive.
Tupaq leaned down, placing a hand on the ground. His voice became deeper.
"The energy is flowing toward the center of the valley."
Alejandro Cruz took out a small obsidian disc. As he held it, it vibrated strongly, emitting a turquoise glow.
"They are using the necropolis as a catalyst."
The silence that followed was heavy, interrupted only by the murmur of the wind in the leaves.
Anayan took a deep breath.
"This European obsession with power, with controlling what they don't understand... We guard this land to maintain balance."
Catalina looked up, determined.
"We can't let them succeed. This is our home. Let them kill each other in Europe if they want, but not here."
Ferraro smiled, raising his fists.
"Hell yeah. It's about time we got our hands a little dirty."
Yara, more cautious, crossed her arms.
"This isn't just a ritual. They could be trying to bring back something that should have stayed dead."
Anayan nodded slowly.
"Exactly. They're trying to use the magic of this land to resurrect someone... although I hope I'm wrong."
The group exchanged glances.
A distant thunderclap echoed, catching their attention. The magic of the valley roared. The earth shook and the sky turned greenish-gray.
Yara looked up. In the distance, she could see the dark glow of the Alliance's ritual.
"It's already begun," she said quietly.
Tupaq spoke in Quechua, a short prayer asking the spirits for strength. Then he looked back at Anayan.
"What shall we do?"
The Archmage looked at the horizon, where a faint light was beginning to rise over the mountains, in the direction of San Agustín.
"What we have always done. Protect our land."
The Council of the Sun advanced in silence until the forest opened up, revealing the heart of the necropolis. There, in a circle, dozens of wizards and witches were performing a ritual.
Catalina Rojas was the first to recognize some of the faces. Her voice broke.
"They're ours... They're Colombian magicians..."
Tupaq Illari, his jaw clenched, took a step forward.
"There are Peruvians too."
The wizards in the circle turned around when they noticed his presence. A man with a tired look and a worn robe spoke bitterly.
"What are you here for? Are you going to keep hiding who we are?" His voice echoed with the rage of years of repression. "While Europeans rule the world, we continue to be forgotten... We want power! We want respect!"
Before the Council could respond, a female figure emerged from the shadows.
Vinda Rosier smiled smugly.
"They chose their destiny. Don't you see? This land cries out to be awakened. They are not victims; they are the bearers of a new era."
At her side appeared Percival Graves, elegant and lethal.
"And you," he said in an icy voice, "are the last obstacle."
Anayan stepped forward, his staff emitting a golden light like the midday sun.
"Enough! I will not allow you to defile this land."
The first spell split the air like thunder. The stones echoed with each impact.
Catalina launched a whirlwind of fire that Graves deflected with some difficulty. Yara made roots sprout from the ground in an attempt to trap Vinda, but the witch responded with a flurry of curses.
Santiago Ferraro and Alejandro Cruz protected the flanks from the attacks of the other wizards of the alliance, while Tupaq channeled the power of the earth, raising walls that shattered under the dark energy of the ritual.
The chanting did not stop. The wizards of the circle, possessed by their desire, continued the ritual, even as their bodies began to disintegrate from the force they were unleashing.
"Stop them!" Catalina shouted, trembling.
She ran toward them, but a burst of magic threw her against one of the monoliths. When she opened her eyes, she saw with horror how the runes on the ground burned with an incandescent red.
Tupaq turned when he sensed the change in the air. His face froze.
"It's too late!"
A black mass emerged from the center of the circle. It writhed and took human form as it finished absorbing the remaining magic and life from those wizards and witches.
The monoliths began to fracture, and a roar filled the valley. From the central crack, a body slowly emerged, thin and somewhat pale, covered in ancient runes that glowed with an unhealthy green.
Vinda Rosier fell to her knees, laughing loudly.
"It worked... it really worked, Herpo the Foul."
Anayan raised his staff in fury.
"Damn you! They used the souls of our brothers to bring him back!"
Catalina watched in horror as the bodies of her brothers were consumed, turned into magic that fed Herpo's flesh.
Her scream tore through the air.
"They were our friends! Our companions! Monster!"
Herpo opened his eyes. His eyes were two wells of pure darkness, devoid of emotion or humanity. His voice echoed as if it came from hell itself.
"The world shall remember my name."
The sky above San Agustín turned red.
Animals fled and trees bent under invisible pressure.
Herpo's laughter spread throughout the necropolis like a cursed echo. It was an unnatural sound, filled with madness and joy.
"At last, after so long!" he roared, spreading his arms to the sky. "I waited millennia just to breathe this air again!" His eyes lit up with a green fire as the ground cracked around him.
The magicians of the Council of the Sun recoiled out of pure instinct.
The power emanating from Herpo was overwhelming, unbearable. The air smelled of death and decay.
Vinda Rosier watched the scene with a triumphant smile.
"You see, Graves," she whispered with delight, "I wasn't wrong... he will help us achieve our goal."
Percival Graves looked at her in horror.
"What now?"
"Now," she replied, her eyes fixed on the newborn titan, "we let the world remember."
With a subtle movement of her wand, Vinda traced a circle in the air and both disappeared, enveloped in black smoke, just as the ground began to explode across the necropolis.
Anayan stepped forward until he was standing in front of Herpo, his staff glowing with a golden light. The other members of the Council watched in silence, witnessing something that had rarely occurred throughout history.
Herpo slowly turned his head toward the Archmage.
"Are you the one who dares to interrupt my rebirth?" His voice was distorted, as if many souls were speaking through him.
Anayan held his gaze without flinching.
"Your time is up, Herpo."
The ancient wizard laughed loudly, causing the remaining monoliths to vibrate.
"Time only ends for those who do not master it."
Without another word, both began to channel energy.
The impact lit up the entire place.
A shockwave swept through the valley, uprooting trees and lifting debris of dust and stone. The magic collided with such force that the sky changed color. From red to violet and then to a blinding white.
Anayan created a golden circle that spun around him like a small sun. Each of his movements left behind traces of energy that seemed to burn on contact with the air.
Herpo, however, extended his arm, and black snakes emerged from his skin, night-black, and lunged at the Archmage, devouring all the magical energy in their path.
"Back!" shouted Catalina Rojas, covering the rest of the council with a barrier. The pressure of the combat was such that the ground sank beneath their feet.
Herpo took a step forward, his shadow expanding as if it were alive.
"You cannot stop me. I taught men to use their darkness."
"And that is why," replied Anayan, his voice booming like thunder, "the world forgot you."
The Archmage's staff rose to the sky and a sphere of light so bright that it momentarily dispelled the darkness burst forth from it. Herpo responded by opening his hand, a crack formed in the air, and from it emerged a black sphere that devoured everything it touched.
Light and darkness collided.
The earth around them continued to split apart.
Herpo's body trembled, a smile forming on his lips.
"Interesting... there are still worthy wizards." He took a step forward, his skin regenerating from the burns caused by the spell. "Let's see how long you can hold out... Archmage."
Anayan clenched his teeth, sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Long enough to stop you."
Magic filled the air as both unleashed their full power. The duel between the South American Archmage and the progenitor of Darkness had just begun.
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