THE SNOWY OWL, WHO HAD WITNESSED THE TRANSFORMATION OF DARYL FROM A GENTLE ARTIST TO A FIERCE WARRIOR, WAS OVERWHELMED BY GRIEF. THE CRYSTAL ARTIFACT, ONCE A GIFT FOR CREATING BEAUTY, HAD BECOME A TOOL OF DESTRUCTION. IN A BITTER TWIST, SNOWY OWL, RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATH OF DARYL'S BROTHER, FOUND HIMSELF AT THE HEART OF THE TRAGEDY.
BASTIAN, HIS COMPANION, WALKED TO THE SHORE, WHERE THE SEA WASHED UP NOT JUST SEAWEED BUT CHARRED FISH AND BODIES, THE SMELL OF DEATH MINGLING WITH SALT. THE SOUL EYE REVEALED A DESOLATE SCENE: NO LIFE, NO SOULS, ONLY REMNANTS SOON TO BE COLLECTED FOR ALCHEMICAL USES, A GRIM IRONY IN THEIR QUEST TO EXTINGUISH ALL LIFE.
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"WHERE EXACTLY IS THE TOWER OF ORIGIN?" BASTIAN QUERIED WITH A MIX OF CURIOSITY AND URGENCY IN HIS VOICE. THIS MYTHICAL STRUCTURE HAD ALWAYS BEEN SHROUDED IN LEGENDS AND WHISPERED SECRETS, BUT FINDING IT SEEMED AN INSURMOUNTABLE TASK.
INDEED, THE TOWER OF ORIGIN WAS NO ORDINARY PLACE. IT WAS THE EPICENTER OF ELVISH POWER, WHERE THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE OF THE ELVES WAS NOT ONLY PROCESSED BUT ALSO WHERE NUMEROUS ARTIFACTS TOOK SHAPE, AND CRITICAL COMPONENTS FOR ALCHEMICAL CONTRAPTIONS AND WAR WEAPONS WERE CRAFTED. MOREOVER, IT HOUSED THE BRAM RESEARCH INSTITUTE AND THRONE, SAFEGUARDING SECRETS THAT WERE VITAL TO THE SURVIVAL AND SUPREMACY OF THE ELVES.
BUT THERE WAS MORE, A FAR DEEPER SIGNIFICANCE TO THIS ENIGMATIC TOWER. IT WAS, ESSENTIALLY, THE "TOWER," A MASTER SWITCH TO COUNTLESS EARTH VEINS. IT HELD THE POWER TO RESTORE ORDER OR UNLEASH CHAOS ACROSS THE REALMS, SERVING AS THE ULTIMATE ANSWER TO THE CURRENT PANDEMONIUM THAT PLAGUED THEIR WORLD.
"IF WE FAIL TO MANAGE THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE RESERVES WITHIN THE TOWER OF ORIGIN, WE RISK NOT JUST THE STAGNATION OF OUR WORLD'S LIFE CYCLE BUT THE COMPLETE DECAY OF THE SEA OF SOULS," BASTIAN'S COMPANION SNOWY OWL EXPLAINED, HIS TONE SOMBER. "AND IT'S NOT JUST ABOUT OUR WORLD; THE RAMIFICATIONS EXTEND BEYOND. THE DROUGHT IN THE SEA OF SOULS IS A CATASTROPHE SPREADING ACROSS MULTIPLE PLANES, RISKING THE FUTURE OF THE MULTIVERSE ITSELF."
BASTIAN'S GAZE WAS RESOLUTE YET WEARY. HIS CONCERN PRIMARILY LAY WITH HIS OWN REALM, SURVIVAL IN THESE HARROWING TIMES WAS A DAUNTING ENOUGH CHALLENGE. "SO, THE PIVOTAL QUESTION REMAINS, WHERE IS THIS TOWER OF ORIGIN?"
THIS STRUCTURE WASN'T JUST A FOCAL POINT OF HIS QUEST; ENTIRE COALITIONS DEEMED IT THEIR PRIME TARGET. RUMORS HINTED THAT ITS LOCATION COULD BE NEAR THE ELVEN CAPITAL, A CITY THRIVING ON ALCHEMY AND STRATEGIC RESOURCES, MAKING IT A VITAL MILITARY ASSET. YET, DESPITE THE EFFORTS OF MANY, THE TOWER OF ORIGIN REMAINED ELUSIVE, ONLY EVER DISPATCHING TRANSPORT TEAMS AND WAR MACHINES, WITH NONE RETURNING OR REACHING ITS MYSTERIOUS LOCALE.
"THIS ELUSIVE NATURE OF THE TOWER ISN'T MERE COINCIDENCE; IT EXISTS IN THIS WORLD YET PARADOXICALLY DOES NOT," CHIMED IN THE SNOWY OWL, HIS WORDS CRYPTIC YET LADEN WITH TRUTH. "SURROUNDED BY SUBSIDIARY PLANES AND TRANSFORMED PRIVATE TERRITORIES OF THE ELVES, THE TOWER OF ORIGIN STANDS OUT AS A UNIQUE ANOMALY. IT'S A REALM BEYOND THE PHYSICAL, AKIN TO THAT ISOLATED ISLAND WHERE WE ENCOUNTERED 'THAT ENTITY.' IT'S UNREACHABLE THROUGH ORDINARY MEANS, A CRAFTED WORLD BORNE FROM THE SAGE'S OWN ALCHEMICAL PROWESS."
REALIZATION DAWNED ON BASTIAN, A MIXTURE OF AWE AND FRUSTRATION. "IF IT'S SUCH A PRIVATE SANCTUM, VIRTUALLY INACCESSIBLE WITHOUT EXPLICIT PERMISSION, WHAT CAN WE POSSIBLY DO? SURELY THE SAGE WOULDN'T JUST ALLOW US ENTRY."
"YOU'RE RIGHT, AND HE HAS MADE THAT QUITE CLEAR. NO BEING, NOT EVEN ELVEN PRINCES, MAY APPROACH THE TOWER," RESPONDED HIS COMPANION, HIS VOICE REFLECTING A BLEND OF REVERENCE AND RESIGNATION.
BASTIAN'S EYES NARROWED AS HE PONDERED THEIR NEXT MOVE. "BUT, PERHAPS THERE IS STILL A WAY, AN EXCEPTION TO THIS STRINGENT RULE?"
AT THAT MOMENT, UNDERSTANDING FLASHED ACROSS BOTH THEIR FACES. "THE SOUL-DRAINING CROWN? COULD IT BE OUR KEY, THE AUTHORITY OF ELVEN KINGSHIP ITSELF?" BASTIAN GUESSED, HIS HEART POUNDING WITH A MIX OF HOPE AND DREAD.
INDEED, THE ANSWER WAS AS UNEXPECTED AS IT WAS LOGICAL, WEAVING TOGETHER THE THREADS OF DESTINY AND POWER IN THEIR QUEST FOR THE TOWER OF ORIGIN.
ACCORDING TO ELF LORE, THE ORIGINAL "PRINCE" SCORMETHEUS WAS FORSAKEN, A VICTIM OF POLITICAL MANEUVERS WITHIN THE HIGH ECHELONS OF ELVEN ROYALTY. HIS ESTRANGEMENT FROM THE SAGE, THE REVERED LEADER OF THE ELVES, STEMMED FROM A CONTENTIOUS DECISION: THE SAGE HAD PASSED THE "SOUL-DRAINING CROWN," THE EMBLEM OF ELVEN SOVEREIGNTY, TO HIS YOUNGER SON, JORDAN.
THIS CEREMONIAL BESTOWAL OF THE CROWN WAS MORE THAN A FAMILIAL GESTURE; IT WAS A PUBLIC DECLARATION TO ALL ELVEN CLANS AND THEIR ALLIES, PROCLAIMING JORDAN AS THE RIGHTFUL HEIR TO THE THRONE. RUMORS CIRCULATED THAT SCORMETHEUS SPIRALED INTO DECADENCE, UNABLE TO WITHSTAND THE SHOCK OF THIS BETRAYAL. HOWEVER, BASTIAN KNEW THESE TALES DISTORTED THE TRUTH.
"WE NEED TO FIND JORDAN," DECLARED SCORMETHEUS, HIS VOICE A BLEND OF RESOLVE AND SORROW AS HE REVERTED TO HIS HUMAN FORM FROM THE SHADOWY GUISE OF THE SNOWY OWL. HIS EXPRESSION BRIEFLY BETRAYED HIS DESPAIR BEFORE HARDENING INTO A MASK OF DETERMINATION. 'I'VE REMAINED BEHIND THE SCENES, PERHAPS JUST FOR THIS MOMENT. LET'S GO. JORDAN WON'T SUSPECT HIS OWN BROTHER.'
WAR, A RELENTLESS FORCE, REDUCES TREASURES TO RUBBLE AND TURNS THE NOBLEST SOULS CYNICAL. THOSE WHO STILL ROMANTICIZE THE BRUTAL REALITY OF WAR ARE EITHER DETACHED FROM ITS HORRORS OR THRIVE ON CHAOS. YET, IT'S UNDENIABLE THAT WAR ACCELERATES TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCEMENT AND UNVEILS HIDDEN TALENTS. MANY WHO WOULD HAVE LIVED UNREMARKABLE LIVES IN PEACE FIND THEIR DESTINIES REWRITTEN IN THE THROES OF CONFLICT.
JORDAN, DUBBED THE "SAINT," WAS SUCH A FIGURE, AN ELF DESTINED FOR HISTORICAL RENOWN. HIS PROWESS WAS UNMATCHED; ACTIVE FROM THE ONSET OF HOSTILITIES, HE LED ELVEN AND ALLIED FORCES THROUGH COUNTLESS BATTLES WITHOUT A SINGLE DEFEAT. HIS LEADERSHIP SKILLS, STRATEGIC ACUMEN, AND PERSONAL COMBAT CAPABILITIES SET HIM APART FROM HIS PEERS.
LEGEND HAD IT THAT JORDAN WIELDED NOT ONLY HIS ORIGINAL ARTIFACTS BUT ALSO BOASTED TWO SETS OF ALCHEMICAL PROSTHETIC LIMBS, ALLOWING HIM TO CAST MULTIPLE SPELLS SIMULTANEOUSLY. GIFTED WITH THE "CROWN OF SOUL-DRAINING" BY THE SAGE HIMSELF, HE WAS A FORMIDABLE OPPONENT, RIVALED ONLY BY THE LEGENDARY ION.
CURRENTLY, AMIDST THE SOMBER BACKDROP OF A MILITARY ENCAMPMENT, JORDAN STOOD OVER HIS BROTHER DARYL'S GRAVE. "MAY OUR FATHER ALWAYS GUARD YOUR SOUL. MAY YOU FIND PEACE IN THE ETERNAL LANDS OF OUR ANCESTORS," HE INTONED, HIS VOICE FALTERING. THE GRIEF WAS PALPABLE AMONG THE ASSEMBLED ELVES, BUT JORDAN STRUGGLED WITH THE WEIGHT OF HIS WORDS.
HOW COULD HE SPEAK OF SOULS AND PROTECTION WHEN HE KNEW TOO WELL THE DARK SECRETS OF THE ALCHEMY TOWER? HOW COULD HE ASSURE A PEACEFUL AFTERLIFE WHEN HE UNDERSTOOD THAT THOSE CAPTURED BY THE TOWER OFTEN ENDED UP AS MERE INGREDIENTS IN THE CREATION OF PHILOSOPHER'S STONES?
JORDAN'S INNER TURMOIL DEEPENED AS HE REFLECTED ON THE RECENT LOSSES, THIS WAS THE THIRD BROTHER HE HAD MOURNED WITHIN A MONTH. THE WAR HAD CLAIMED EVEN THOSE OF ROYAL ELVEN LINEAGE. "CAN THEIR SPIRITS TRULY RETURN TO OUR CREATOR'S EMBRACE, OR IS THE FABLED SANCTUARY MERELY A RESERVOIR FOR THE ALCHEMY TOWER?" HE PONDERED, HAUNTED BY DOUBTS.
AS HE GRAPPLED WITH THESE THOUGHTS, AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR ARRIVED. SCORMETHEUS, HIS ESTRANGED BROTHER, THE ONE WHO HAD DARED DEFY THEIR FATHER, HAD COME. JORDAN'S HEART POUNDED WITH A MIXTURE OF ANTICIPATION AND ANXIETY. WHAT WOULD SCORMETHEUS DO IN HIS PLACE? WHAT DID HIS UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE SIGNIFY IN THESE DESPERATE TIMES?