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Mightiest am I, but I am not alone in this cosmos

of mine. For the black hills consists of black

souls, souls that already dies one thousand

deaths. Behind the stone walls of centuries they

breed their black art. Boiling their spells in

cauldrons of black gold. Far up in the mountains,

where the rain fall not far, yet the sun cannot

reach. The wizards, my servants, summon the souls

of macrocosm. No age will escape my wrath. I travel

through time and I return to the future.I gather

wisdom now lost.I visit again the eternally

ancient caves, before a mighty Emperor thereupon

came. Watching the mortals "discovering" my

chronicles, guarded by the old demons, even

unknown to me. Once destroyed their souls are

being summoned to my timeless prison of hate. It

is delightful to feast upon the screaming souls

that was destroyed in my future. How many wizards

that serve me with evil.I know not. My empires has

no limits. From the never ending mountains black,

to the bottomless lakes.I am the ruler and has

been for eternity's long. My wizards are many, but

their essence is mine. Forever there are in the

hills in their stone homes of grief. Because I am

the spirit of their existence. I am them.