The endless desert stretched out like a golden ocean under the burning afternoon sun. Heat waves danced in the distance, making the horizon shimmer and blur. Most travelers would have turned back hours ago, but Riven wasn't most travelers.
He pulled his water bottle from his pack and took a careful sip. The liquid was warm but precious. He had been walking for three days straight, following an ancient map drawn on cracked parchment that he'd bought from a suspicious merchant in Hargeon Town. The man had claimed it would lead to "treasures beyond imagination," but Riven wasn't looking for gold or jewels.
He was looking for power.
The wind picked up, sending sand swirling around his boots. In the distance, he could see them now - the ruins that had haunted his dreams for months. Massive stone pillars jutted out from a cliff face like broken teeth, half-buried by centuries of desert storms. The Temple of the Storm King, a place so old that most people thought it was just a legend.
Riven had always been fascinated by legends. Even as a child growing up in a small village, he'd spend hours listening to traveling storytellers speak of ancient warriors who could summon lightning with a snap of their fingers, or kings who commanded the very elements themselves. His village elders always laughed and called them fairy tales, but Riven believed.
That belief had led him to Fairy Tail Guild two years ago, where he'd learned to use Requip magic. He could summon weapons and armor from magical storage dimensions, switching between them in the blink of an eye during battle. It was useful magic, practical magic. But it wasn't legendary magic.
As he approached the temple entrance, Riven ran his fingers over the carved symbols on the massive stone door. The golden emblem at the center showed a lightning bolt wrapped in what looked like a crown, surrounded by words in a language he couldn't read. But somehow, looking at it made his heart race with excitement.
"Two years of research," he said to himself, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Two years of following every rumor, every dusty scroll, every crazy story from drunk sailors. This has to be it."
He stepped back and raised his right hand. Magic energy swirled around his arm as he called upon his power.
"Requip: Iron Fist Gauntlet!"
A heavy metal gauntlet appeared on his hand, its surface etched with strength-enhancing runes. Riven drew back his fist and punched the ancient door with all his might. The stone cracked like glass, sending chunks of rock tumbling to the ground. Behind it lay a dark corridor that seemed to stretch on forever.
Cool air rushed out from the depths of the temple, carrying with it the smell of old stone and something else - something that made the hair on his arms stand up. Magic. Old magic. The kind that felt alive.
Torches along the walls suddenly burst into life as he stepped inside, their flames burning an eerie blue color. The light revealed walls covered in detailed paintings that seemed to move in the flickering illumination. The pictures showed battles between warriors in golden armor and massive creatures with too many teeth and claws. In every scene, one figure stood out - a man in flowing robes holding a sword that crackled with lightning.
Below each painting, the same name appeared over and over again in glowing letters: Baal.
Riven had read about Baal during his research. According to the ancient texts he'd found in dusty libraries across Fiore, Baal was one of the legendary Djinn - powerful spirits that could grant incredible abilities to those they deemed worthy. The stories claimed that a warrior named Sinbad had once wielded Baal's power to conquer entire kingdoms, commanding storms and lightning as easily as breathing.
Most scholars thought the Djinn were myths, stories made up to explain natural disasters or the rise and fall of ancient empires. But as Riven walked deeper into the temple, feeling the magical energy grow stronger with each step, he began to believe that maybe the scholars were wrong.
The corridor opened into a vast circular chamber with a domed ceiling painted to look like a night sky full of stars. At the very center of the room stood a raised stone platform, and embedded in that platform was a sword.
It wasn't a beautiful weapon. The blade was black as midnight, its surface rough and pitted as if it had been struck by lightning a thousand times. The crossguard was simple, and the grip was wrapped in faded red leather that looked ready to crumble at a touch. But despite its worn appearance, power radiated from the sword like heat from a forge. Small bolts of electricity danced along its edge, and the air around it hummed with energy.
Riven approached slowly, his boots echoing in the vast chamber. With each step, he felt a presence growing stronger in his mind - not his own thoughts, but something ancient and patient, like a great beast slowly opening its eyes after a long sleep.
"You who seek the power of storms."
The voice didn't come through his ears but seemed to speak directly into his thoughts. It was deep and rolling, like distant thunder, but there was curiosity in it as well. Riven stopped walking and looked around the empty chamber.
"Who's there?" he called out, his voice sounding small in the vast space.
"I am here, mortal. I have always been here. The question is - who are you to disturb my rest?"
Riven straightened his shoulders and tried to keep his voice steady. "My name is Riven. I'm a mage from the Fairy Tail guild."
"Fairy Tail." The voice seemed to taste the words. "The guild of fire and fury, of bonds that cannot be broken. I have felt their magic from across the desert winds. Tell me, young mage, what brings you to seek the power of Baal, Djinn of Lightning and Storms?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. Riven thought about all the reasons that had driven him here - his frustration with his own limitations, his desire to protect his guild friends, the nightmares he still had about battles where he hadn't been strong enough to make a difference.
"I want to be stronger," he said finally. "Not for glory or conquest, but to protect the people I care about. I've seen what happens when good people face enemies too powerful for them to handle. I don't ever want to feel that helpless again."
"Strength born of love rather than hatred. Protection rather than domination." The voice seemed pleased. "It has been many years since someone approached me with such intentions. Most who seek my power dream of ruling others, of bending the world to their will."
"That's not what I want," Riven said firmly. "I just want to be able to stand between my friends and anything that would hurt them."
Silence filled the chamber for a long moment. Then, without warning, the sword began to glow. Golden light poured from its surface, growing brighter and brighter until Riven had to shield his eyes. Lightning arcs danced through the air, and the very stones beneath his feet began to crack from the overwhelming magical pressure.
"Then let us see if your soul can bear the weight of my power, Riven of Fairy Tail."