"And one of you believe this to be him?" Rahal muttered. "You're both mad, but I will of course, tell the story." He sat back and thought of how to begin the tale. It wasn't easy, to be sure.
"Long before you or I were born, there was a man." He started. "And he was resplendent with magic. Any spell asked of him, he could perform. Any task demanded, any wish begged, he could easily grant with a twitch of a finger." He fell easily into a story teller's cadence, carefully reviewing what he knew. "He skill was such that the gods grew jealous, and sought to prove their superiority through a task that they were certain he could not do. One day, a god in disguise came down to his court, and spoke with the Mage. 'I have fruit from the tree of life. I seek to share it with only the most worthy.' the disguised god spoke. 'Then I will prove my worth, sir. Set me any three tasks, and I will set to it.' He was confident in his skills, having been bested by no task yet. The god responded with ease. 'Instead, I will set you one task, in three parts. This fruit is meant only for the Gods themselves. Gods may create life where there is none. Create life three times, life that can speak, act, and is independent, and I will give you this fruit. You have three days to do so.' Suspicious, the Mage agreed, certain it was a God who challenged him.
He considered his options. He knew what he would do. He would create life worthy to be called his children. On the first day, he took all his knowledge of battle and sword work, all the spells he knew to defend and attack and he created a boy in the image of his best general. Long red hair, held back in a low tail graced this first son. 'I shall name you Kassen, for the blood you will spill.' The god agreed that this was a true creation, and Kassen was known soon as Kassen the Bloodthirsty, the Mage's Sword.
The next day, with great consideration, the Mage pulled from his experience. He chose his own anger, his madness, and all he knew of the manipulation of fire and the elements. He created a black haired boy in the image of his own uncle. This second son had a mad man's smile and took joy in chaos and trouble. 'I shall name you Makai, for the chaos you will spread.' The god agreed this too was a true creation, and Makai was soon known as Makai the Mad, the Mage's Punisher.
The third day was nearly passed before the Mage finished, having been uncertain what to create this latest son from. Before the sun set though, a brown haired boy with kind eyes stood in front of the god. He was a mirror image of his father, and his father was pleased, for this child was made entirely of his magic, and held all of his magical knowledge and abilities within. 'I shall name you Priel, for the magic within you.' and the god agreed this was a true creation, and left the Mage with the fruit of the tree of life, and the Mage ate it, and was made immortal. And he provided a bite of it to each of his sons. They would live longer lives than the average mortal."
Rahal sighed and pulled out a water bottle and took a sip. "That is their creation." He said quietly. "Later, the Mage would go on to do horrible things, and his sons would break from him. Priel would become known as Priel the sickly, as his creation was rushed, and away from his father's side, maintaining himself was difficult. The father would go insane, and slaughter entire civilizations, until his sons turned against him in totality and worked with the gods to forge the chains that would bind their father to a meadow that was unreachable by all normal means. The names, of course, are incorrect, but they are what the scholar's choose to call them, to avoid summoning their possible attention, assuming they live still." He hesitated. "Though on the note of names. Whoever translated teh cuneiform for you was wrong." He said quietly. The man eyes her. "I'll cast a temporary ward and say it, so you know it. His spells should have fallen by now, but if he's free..." The mage cat the word and spoke the name. "Shalafi. Though using Shafiri, on the paper, may be fine."