There was once a wise alchemist born in 1441 called Faust. His goal was to grant those with kind hearts the knowledge about the occult to help those in need. In his spare time, he studied to discover how to fabricate the Philosopher's Stone - the artifact said to grant eternal life.
His secret knowledge led him to become known amongs the people familiarized with the occult, mainly healers and Forgemasters. One of his pupils - his favorite - was the son of a very kind woman, also his student, who practiced herbal healing to cure the ill, but was constantly maligned by the general populace with rumors of being a witch whose son was the Devil's. The child's father never having been seen didn't help matters. Faust himself had to teach and work under the shadows, since the same people who maligned his students could very well persecute him for witchcraft. Such was the irony of destiny: Help those in need while they scorn your help.
Faust was once sharply wise, but gradually, his obsession with his research over the stone degenerated his sense of priority, and led him to wonder if the fabrication of such artifact as the Philosopher's Stone was beyond his grasp, even with his intellect. He felt that, to achieve this major breakthrough of the occult science, he'd need more. He'd need the type of knowledge that no human could reach, and that God would never grant him, as death was His decree over all that is mortal and the stone negated this very rule.
Blinded by his obsession, Faust sought access to supreme knowledge through heresy and the forbidden.
Through a ritual, a frail imp calling himself the "representative of the Devil" was summoned before him, and through a pact, The Devil's representative offered Faust his services, promising to bring him all the books he would needed for his research directly from the Devil's library. But the cost was high: Once his years of breathing came to an end, his soul would be taken by the Devil's right hand to serve as the caretaker of his colossal library from which the books had came for all eternity. Faust agreed, imagining that if he discovered how to fabricate the stone, death would never knock at his door, therefore rendering the pact void.
Faust went on to exponentially expand his knowledge about the occult, dabbling into increasingly darker alchemy, seeking to finally crack the puzzle behind the stone. He grew negligent with his teachings of the secret arts to his followers, and sloppy in hiding the questionable material brought to him by the Devil's servant. It was not long until the populace discovered about his affairs, planning to persecute him and everyone who sided with him.
While he taught his students about alchemy in the middle of an ordinary night, a mob of enraged people holding pitchforks and torches barged through his door. They burned his books and hauled everyone including Faust from inside the simple house towards the town's square. All kicking and screaming in the world did not help him nor his students, and they were strapped to wooden crosses under the cold night while the mob leader screamed words of hatred and persecution.
Faust's eyes teared as he saw his favorite pupil scream and cry in despair while his mother was violently dragged to the cross, telling her child words of confort even as the hateful people spat and cursed at her for being a witch. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but her kind eyes were evidence that her words would be carved in the boy's heart forever.
The flames were ignited, and, as they consumed Faust, the mob screamed and laughed with their red eyes dancing in the darkness of the night. He had failed to accomplish his mission, and regretted every single second from making his pact, feeling the death of his poor students weight upon his shoulders. But now it was too late, and his soul belonged to the Devil. All of his research about the stone was lost, and all he could hope for was for God to bestow his mercy upon the innocent victims of this persecution.
-
Waking up from a deep slumber, the alchemist jumped as a robed figure stood before him motionless. He imediatelly knew who this was, even if he had only known him from the books that were brough to him by the Devil's representative, who now rested upon the robed entity's shoulder.
The robed figure proceeded to point at the bookshelf next to Faust, his bony hand slowly appearing from under the robe's sleeve and a deep, cavernous voice coming from the darkness inside the robe - "This is what you must care for now, and all you cared for before is meaningless. Any memory you had from your life, even your name, will be erased as you spend the eons cataloguing the Master's tomes and returning them to their appropriate places." - echoed the mysterious, terrifying entity.
"Don't fancy yourself human anymore, alchemist. You're a spirit, a ghost, and your only duty is to bend to the Master's wish. Such were the terms of the pact, and so they shall be."
-
"It's been a long time, old one..." - a deep voice echoed in the room, startling the old man from his slumber.