INSIDE A PRIVATE TENT, BASTIAN FOUND HIMSELF STANDING BEFOREGWENITH, THE EVER-COMPOSED "PROPHET," A WOMAN WHOSE KNOWLEDGE OF FATE AND THE FUTURE GAVE HER AN AURA OF UNTOUCHABLE CERTAINTY. FACING HER NOW, BASTIAN FELT AN UNCOMFORTABLE TENSION KNOTTING IN HIS CHEST. WHAT HE WAS ABOUT TO ASK WAS UNTHINKABLE, SO OUTRAGEOUS THAT IT WOULD MAKE ANYONE QUESTION HIS LOYALTY TO THE COALITION.
GWENITH, SITTING CALMLY ACROSS FROM HIM, RAISED AN EYEBROW AS IF EXPECTING HIS HESITATION. "DESTINY AND THE FORESEEING FLAMES HAVE REVEALED TO ME THAT THIS IS ALL PART OF YOUR PLAN. SCORMETHEUS CANNOT BE SAVED, AND THERE IS NO POINT IN ATTEMPTING TO DO SO. SO, TELL ME, BASTIAN, WHAT DO YOU TRULY WANT?"
BASTIAN'S HEART POUNDED, BUT HE KNEW THERE WAS NO TURNING BACK. THE SAGE WAS UNSTOPPABLE. TO FACE HIM NOW IN HIS FULL POWER WOULD BE NOTHING SHORT OF SUICIDE, A REALITY SCORMETHEUS HAD UNDERSTOOD LONG BEFORE HE COMMITTED HIS TREACHEROUS ACT. SCORMETHEUS HAD KNOWN, FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, THAT HE WOULD NEVER ESCAPE HIS FATHER'S WRATH.
BUT BASTIAN HAD HIS OWN AGENDA, AND THAT WAS WHY HE STOOD BEFOREGWENITH NOW. HE SWALLOWED HARD AND SPOKE, HIS VOICE BARELY ABOVE A WHISPER. "LADYGWENITH, I NEED THE FORESEEING FLAMES. I... I CAN USE IT."
THE REQUEST HUNG IN THE AIR LIKE A DEATH SENTENCE. EVERYONE KNEW THE CRITICAL ROLE THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE AND ITS TWIN FLAMES OF CREATION PLAYED IN THE COALITION'S STRATEGIES. THE VERY THOUGHT OF TAKING THE FORESEEING FLAMES FROMGWENITH WAS UNTHINKABLE, IT WAS THE KEY TO THEIR SURVIVAL, THE HEART OF THEIR PROPHETIC ARTS THAT ALLOWED THEM TO OUTMANEUVER THE ELVES. WITHOUT IT, THEIR GUERRILLA TACTICS, THEIR ABILITY TO FORESEE ENEMY MOVEMENTS, WOULD CRUMBLE.
GWENITH'S EYES NARROWED. "DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE ASKING?" SHE ASKED SLOWLY. "THE FORESEEING FLAMES IS THE CORE OF OUR STRENGTH. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO THE COALITION RIGHT NOW?"
"I DO," BASTIAN SAID QUIETLY, THOUGH HIS CONFIDENCE FALTERED UNDER HER INTENSE GAZE.
SHE LEANED FORWARD, HER VOICE SHARP. "KNOWING ALL THIS, YOU STILL HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK FOR IT? AND TELL ME THIS, WILL YOU RETURN IT ONCE YOU'RE DONE?"
BASTIAN'S FIRST INSTINCT WAS TO LIE, TO NOD AND PROMISE HE WOULD GIVE IT BACK. BUT HIS HEART WAVERED. HE COULDN'T DECEIVE HER. AFTER A PAINFUL PAUSE, HE FINALLY SHOOK HIS HEAD. "NO... IT'S UNLIKELY. WHETHER THE PLAN SUCCEEDS OR FAILS, THE FORESEEING FLAMES WILL NOT BE RETURNED."
GWENITH WAS SILENT FOR A MOMENT, HER EXPRESSION UNREADABLE. THEN, WITHOUT WARNING, SHE CLAPPED HER HANDS TOGETHER, HER VOICE TINGED WITH AMUSEMENT. "ALL RIGHT."
"ALL RIGHT?" BASTIAN BLINKED, SHOCKED. THIS WASN'T THE REACTION HE HAD EXPECTED.
"I KNOW YOU DON'T FULLY UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE DOING,"GWENITH SAID WITH A SMALL SMILE, "BUT I TRUST YOU. DO WHATEVER YOU MUST. YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION."
BASTIAN STOOD THERE, STUNNED. HE HAD ANTICIPATED A LONG BATTLE OF PERSUASION, A FIERCE ARGUMENT OVER THE VALUE OF THE FORESEEING FLAMES. BUT NOW, STANDING WITH THE FLICKERING ORANGE-RED FLAME IN HIS HANDS, HE FOUND HIMSELF AT A LOSS.
"...YOU'RE JUST GIVING IT TO ME? NOW?" HE ASKED, BEWILDERED.
GWENITH'S SMILE DEEPENED AS SHE STOOD TO LEAVE. "SCORMETHEUS HAS ALREADY BEEN CORNERED BY THE SAGE IN THE NORTHERN WASTES. HE HAS NO WAY OUT. WHATEVER HAPPENS NEXT IS ON YOU."
THERE WAS NO MORE TIME TO QUESTION, NO TIME FOR DOUBT. WITH THE FORESEEING FLAMES IN HAND, BASTIAN STEPPED OUT OF THE TENT, THE WEIGHT OF HIS DECISION SETTLING OVER HIM LIKE A HEAVY MANTLE. WHATEVER FATE AWAITED SCORMETHEUS, AND PERHAPS THE COALITION ITSELF, WAS NOW IN HIS HANDS.
***
BENEATH THE SIMPLE TITLE OF "SAGE" LIES A FIGURE OF IMMENSE GREATNESS, A BEING REVERED NOT JUST FOR HIS WISDOM BUT FOR THE TRANSFORMATIVE IMPACT HE HAD ON THE WORLD.
HE IS THE KING OF THE ELVES, YET HE HARBORS NO INTEREST IN THE TRAPPINGS OF POWER. INSTEAD, HIS HEART IS CONSUMED BY AN INSATIABLE THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE. WHILE OTHERS SOUGHT THRONES AND DOMINION, HE DELVED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF THE UNIVERSE, CRAFTING INVENTIONS AND DISCOVERING TRUTHS THAT ALTERED THE COURSE OF HISTORY. HIS BRILLIANCE DIDN'T STOP AT THE BORDERS OF HIS OWN PEOPLE, HIS WORK ENRICHED THE LIVES OF MANY, ELF AND NON-ELF ALIKE. THAT IS WHY HE WAS GIVEN THE TITLE "SAGE."
FROM GROUNDBREAKING ADVANCES IN MEDICINE TO RESHAPING THE ENVIRONMENT, FROM MAGICAL ENCHANTMENTS TO INGENIOUS ARTIFACT CRAFTING, HIS ACCOMPLISHMENTS ARE UNPARALLELED. HIS VERY EXISTENCE RESHAPED THE WORLD. AND YET, THE QUESTION LINGERS: DOES THE SAGE REGRET ANY OF IT?
FOR ALL HIS ACHIEVEMENTS, ONE DARK CREATION CASTS A SHADOW OVER HIS LEGACY, THE FORBIDDEN TECHNOLOGY OF THE "PHILOSOPHER'S STONE." THIS POWER, ONCE LOCKED AWAY, WAS UNLEASHED, OPENING A PANDORA'S BOX THAT COULD NEVER BE CLOSED. DID HE FORESEE THE DEVASTATION IT WOULD CAUSE? OR DID HE, LIKE SO MANY BEFORE HIM, FALL VICTIM TO THE BELIEF THAT TECHNOLOGY ITSELF IS NEITHER GOOD NOR EVIL? NOW, WITH THE WORLD TEETERING ON THE EDGE OF RUIN, ONE HAS TO WONDER: DOES THE SAGE SEE THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS OWN GENIUS?
"FATHER, YOU'RE HERE."
THE VOICE CAME QUIETLY, ALMOST TOO CALMLY GIVEN THE CHAOS ROILING INSIDE SCORMETHEUS. HE HADN'T EXPECTED TO FEEL SO COMPOSED IN THIS MOMENT, STANDING BEFORE THE MAN WHO HAD SHAPED HIS WORLD AND NOW THREATENED TO DESTROY IT.
ONCE, SCORMETHEUS HAD BURNED WITH FURY, ANGER AT BEING CAST ASIDE, STRIPPED OF HIS INHERITANCE, AND DENIED ANY SAY IN THE ELF WAR COUNCIL. RAGE HAD CONSUMED HIM AS HE WAS PUSHED OUT OF DECISIONS THAT WOULD DEFINE THE FUTURE OF THEIR PEOPLE. HE HAD FELT SADNESS, HELPLESSNESS, EVEN DOUBT. HE HAD QUESTIONED HIMSELF, HIS PATH. BUT NOW, ALL OF THAT HAD DISTILLED INTO A SINGLE, SIMPLE QUESTION.
"FATHER, DO YOU REGRET IT?"
THE WORDS HUNG IN THE AIR. DO YOU REGRET IT? DO YOU REGRET CRAFTING THOSE WEAPONS OF WAR? DO YOU REGRET SUMMONING THE WAR MACHINES AND FORGING THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE FROM THE PRIMORDIAL FLAMES OF CREATION? DO YOU REGRET THE EARTH VEIN EXTRACTION TOWERS THAT BLEED THE WORLD DRY? DO YOU REGRET KINDLING THE FIRES OF A WAR THAT THREATENS TO CONSUME EVERYTHING?
"HAVE YOU EVER REGRETTED IT?"
THE QUESTION WASN'T JUST BORN OF CURIOSITY. IT WAS THE CULMINATION OF SLEEPLESS NIGHTS, OF DREAD GNAWING AT HIS SOUL. SCORMETHEUS HAD SPENT YEARS PONDERING THE CHOICES HIS FATHER HAD MADE. HIS FATHER WAS SO MUCH WISER THAN HIM, SO MUCH MORE KNOWLEDGEABLE. SURELY, HE MUST HAVE FORESEEN THE SAME DOOM SCORMETHEUS NOW FEARED. SO WHY HAD HE PRESSED FORWARD? DID HE BELIEVE IN SOME GREATER GOOD BEYOND THE DESTRUCTION? SOME REBIRTH THAT WOULD FOLLOW THE RUIN? OR HAD HE SEEN SOME OTHER PATH, A FUTURE WHERE LIFE AND DEATH COULD COEXIST?
BUT THE ANSWER HE RECEIVED WAS NOT WISDOM. IT WAS FURY.
IN AN INSTANT, SCORMETHEUS WAS SLAMMED TO THE GROUND, UNABLE TO EVEN COMPREHEND THE SPEED OF THE ASSAULT. BLOOD-RED EYES BLAZED ABOVE HIM, FILLED NOT WITH REMORSE OR REFLECTION, BUT WITH COLD, UNFORGIVING RAGE.
"REGRET?" THE SAGE'S VOICE WAS LACED WITH CONTEMPT. "HAHAHA… REGRET? YOU STILL CLING TO THOSE FOOLISH, CHILDISH THOUGHTS? IS THAT WHY YOU BETRAYED ME? IS THAT WHY YOU TURNED AGAINST THE ELVES?"
GONE WAS THE COMPASSIONATE KING, THE BENEVOLENT GENIUS. IN HIS PLACE STOOD A TYRANT, UNYIELDING, UNREPENTANT, AND UNDEFEATED. HIS EYES, ONCE FILLED WITH KNOWLEDGE AND UNDERSTANDING, NOW BURNED WITH THE CERTAINTY OF ONE WHO HAD NEVER FAILED. TO HIM, THERE WAS NO ROOM FOR DOUBT, NO POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. HE HAD NEVER KNOWN FAILURE, SO HOW COULD HE EVER QUESTION HIMSELF?
AND IN THAT MOMENT, SCORMETHEUS UNDERSTOOD. HIS FATHER WOULD NEVER REGRET. TO HIM, THE PATH TO DESTRUCTION WAS NOT A MISTAKE, IT WAS INEVITABLE. THE ONLY FAILURE, IN HIS EYES, WAS DEFIANCE.
THIS WAS, WITHOUT A DOUBT, THE WORST POSSIBLE OUTCOME.
RESPOND? WHY BOTHER? THERE WAS NO POINT IN EVEN ACKNOWLEDGING THE CACOPHONY AROUND HIM, MUCH LESS UNDERSTANDING IT.
SCORMETHEUS SHUT HIS EYES, FEELING A WAVE OF HELPLESSNESS WASH OVER HIM. HE WAS TEMPTED TO CRY. HIS FATHER, THE LEGENDARY SAGE, THE ONE WHOSE WISDOM WAS SUPPOSED TO GUIDE THE WORLD, DIDN'T EVEN THINK HE HAD MADE A MISTAKE. TO HIM, EVERYTHING HAD GONE EXACTLY AS PLANNED. PERHAPS, IN HIS FATHER'S MIND, IF HE HAD BEEN LEFT UNCHECKED, THE ENTIRE WORLD WOULD HAVE BOWED TO HIS WILL. PEACE WOULD HAVE COME, AS SMOOTH AND PERFECT AS A FAIRY TALE, AND ALL CONFLICTS WOULD HAVE SIMPLY VANISHED UNDER HIS RULE.
A SOFT BLUE SHIMMER FORMED AROUND SCORMETHEUS AS HIS MAGIC SHIELD ACTIVATED. WITH A STEADY HAND, HE CALLED UPON THE POWERS OF HIS ARTIFACT AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. AT THAT MOMENT, HE STOOD AMONG THE ELITE, ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL BEINGS IN EXISTENCE.
"AHEM," HE MUTTERED WITH A BITTER SMILE, GRIPPING HIS STAFF. "THAT KIND OF CONFIDENCE... IT'S ENVIABLE, REALLY."
HE ROSE TO HIS FEET, FEELING THE WEIGHT OF HIS MAGICAL IMPLEMENTS, THE ARTIFACT IN ONE HAND AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE THRUMMING WITH POWER. HE WONDERED JUST HOW FAR HE HAD COME, HOW CLOSE HE WAS TO MATCHING HIS FATHER. BUT HE KNEW, DEEP DOWN, WORDS WOULDN'T RESOLVE ANYTHING. THEIR IDEALS HAD DIVERGED LONG AGO, LIKE PATHS LEADING TO OPPOSITE HORIZONS. THERE WAS ONLY ONE WAY FORWARD NOW: POWER. IN THE END, THE ONE WITH THE STRONGER HAND WOULD HAVE THE FINAL SAY.