FROM THE GLOOM ABOVE, A SEARING RED FLASH OF LIGHT STREAKED DOWN TOWARD THE GROUP. NANA LET OUT A PIERCING, GUTTURAL ROAR AS THE BLAST STRUCK HER. THE MIGHTY DRAGON ROLLED VIOLENTLY, CRASHING TO THE GROUND WITH A SICKENING THUD. BLOOD POOLED AROUND HER, AND HER EYES, ONCE FILLED WITH LIFE AND FURY, NOW DIMMED RAPIDLY. HER DESPERATE GAZE TURNED UPWARDS IN A FINAL, SILENT PLEA.
HOVERING IN THE AIR, A FIGURE DRESSED IN WHITE FLOATED SERENELY. HER FACE WAS DOLL-LIKE, PRISTINE AND EMOTIONLESS, YET HER EYES BURNED WITH BARELY RESTRAINED RAGE.
"A PUPPET OF THE SAGE… NO," BASTIAN WHISPERED IN HORROR, "THAT'S THE SAGE HIMSELF!"
SAGES RARELY INTERVENED DIRECTLY. PUPPETS COULD NOT EXPRESS EMOTIONS, BUT THE LOOK ON HIS FACE WAS UNMISTAKABLE, FURY AND DESPERATION. IT SEEMED THAT THE SAGE HAD DECIDED TO PERSONALLY INTERVENE, DESPITE THE CHAOS HE WAS FACING ON THE MAIN BATTLEFIELD. IT WAS A DESPERATE MOVE.
". . . YOU IGNORANT WRETCHES," THE SAGE'S VOICE HISSED. "FILTHY, VILE CREATURES. HOW DARE YOU…"
SCORMETHEUS, HAVING TRANSFORMED BACK INTO HIS HUMAN FORM, STEPPED FORWARD WITH ICY INDIFFERENCE. HE MET THE SAGE'S BURNING GAZE WITH A COLD SMILE.
"FATHER," HE SAID MOCKINGLY, "IT SEEMS EVEN YOU'VE BEEN CORNERED BY THE VERY CREATURES YOU ONCE CALLED LOWLY. HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN."
THE SAGE'S DOLL-LIKE FEATURES TWISTED INTO SOMETHING GROTESQUE, HIS FACE CONTORTING WITH FURY. BASTIAN HAD NEVER IMAGINED THAT A BEING SO COMPOSED, SO REVERED, COULD DISPLAY SUCH UNBRIDLED RAGE.
BUT BASTIAN KNEW THEY COULDN'T WASTE ANY MORE TIME.
FROM BEHIND HIS BACK, SCORMETHEUS DISCREETLY POINTED TOWARD A SMALL DOOR HIDDEN IN THE SHADOWS. BASTIAN CAUGHT THE SIGNAL.
WITHOUT HESITATION, BASTIAN MET SCORMETHEUS'S GAZE AND GAVE A SLIGHT NOD BEFORE RUSHING TOWARDS THE DOOR. BUT THE SAGE MOVED WITH ALARMING SPEED. HE SWUNG HIS STAFF, SUMMONING A BLINDING BOLT OF WHITE LIGHTNING THAT TORE THROUGH THE AIR.
THE BOLT STRUCK THE DRAGONBORN RANGER STANDING IN FRONT OF BASTIAN, THE IMPACT SENDING HIM SPRAWLING TO THE GROUND. THE RANGER HAD ANTICIPATED THE ATTACK, BUT EVEN SO, HE COLLAPSED WITH A GRUNT, DEFEATED.
BEFORE THE SAGE COULD STRIKE AGAIN, THE DWARF WARRIOR BESIDE BASTIAN LIFTED HIS SHIELD AND PRESSED FORWARD, SHIELDING THEM BOTH FROM THE INCOMING BLASTS. TOGETHER, THEY MADE A DESPERATE DASH FOR THE DOOR.
"BOOM!"
BEHIND THEM, THE PASSAGE ERUPTED IN FLASHES OF LIGHT AND THE DEAFENING ROAR OF BATTLE. BUT BASTIAN'S FOCUS WAS FIXED ON THE DOOR AHEAD, THEIR DESTINATION, THE VERY HEART OF THE TOWER.
THE SOURCE OF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE WAS WITHIN REACH.
THE ROOM WAS SMALL, FAR SMALLER THAN BASTIAN HAD IMAGINED.
HE HAD ENVISIONED GRANDEUR, A CHAMBER FIT FOR A KING, ADORNED WITH RICH TAPESTRIES AND GLOWING ORNAMENTS. BUT WHAT GREETED HIM WAS FAR FROM REGAL. THERE WAS NO THRONE OF GOLD, NO VELVET CUSHIONS OR MAJESTIC CRESTS. INSTEAD, A SINGLE METAL CHAIR SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM, COLD AND PRACTICAL, FLANKED BY A CONTROL PANEL HUMMING QUIETLY.
IF THERE WAS ANYTHING TO CALL A DECORATION, IT WOULD BE THE COUNTLESS SCREENS THAT FLOATED IN THE AIR, CASTING A SOFT GLOW, AND THE NETWORK OF PIPES WEAVING THROUGH THE ROOM LIKE VEINS.
THIS WAS THE KING'S THRONE? BASTIAN THOUGHT, A WRY SMILE TUGGING AT THE CORNER OF HIS LIPS. THIS WAS THE "THRONE ROOM" IN THE TOWER OF SAGES, BUT ITS DESIGN FELT ALMOST CLINICAL, WITH A MINIMALIST STYLE THAT SEEMED FAR TOO MODERN FOR ITS ANCIENT PURPOSE.
EXPLOSIONS ECHOED FROM THE HALLWAY BEHIND HIM. TIME WAS RUNNING OUT. WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT, BASTIAN THREW HIMSELF ONTO THE CHAIR. HIS FINGERS BRUSHED OVER THE CONTROL PANEL AS HIS EYES DARTED ACROSS THE UNFAMILIAR SYMBOLS AND SCREENS.
"HOW DO I USE THIS?" HE MUTTERED, HIS VOICE LACED WITH URGENCY.
AS IF RESPONDING TO HIS PLEA, A FLICKER OF MOVEMENT CAUGHT HIS EYE. A GHOSTLY, HUMAN-LIKE FIGURE MATERIALIZED ON THE SCREEN IN FRONT OF HIM, ITS ETHEREAL FORM RADIATING AN EERIE LIGHT. IT GESTURED TOWARDS A GLOWING OBJECT SUSPENDED IN THE AIR: THE KING'S CROWN, KNOWN IN HUSHED TONES AS THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN.
"BOOM!"
ANOTHER EXPLOSION RATTLED THE TOWER. THE FLOOR BENEATH BASTIAN TREMBLED, BUT HIS FOCUS REMAINED FIXED ON THE CROWN. HE KNEW INSTINCTIVELY WHAT HE HAD TO DO. NO INSTRUCTION WAS NEEDED. AS HIS HAND CLOSED AROUND THE CROWN, A SURGE OF POWER COURSED THROUGH HIM.
THE MOMENT HE PLACED IT ON HIS HEAD, THE PIPES, ONCE SEEMINGLY DECORATIVE, CAME ALIVE. THEY EXTENDED, SNAKING THEIR WAY TOWARDS HIM LIKE TENDRILS, AND IN AN INSTANT, THEY PLUGGED DIRECTLY INTO THE CROWN. ON THE SCREENS BEFORE HIM, DATA BEGAN TO STREAM AT AN UNFATHOMABLE SPEED, NUMBERS AND SYMBOLS RACING ACROSS HIS VISION.
THE DIGITS BLURRED, BUT SOON THEY RESOLVED INTO SOMETHING TANGIBLE. THE PHANTOM ON THE SCREEN STABILIZED, ITS IMAGE SOLIDIFYING INTO A FORM THAT WAS HAUNTINGLY HUMAN.
BASTIAN FELT A COLD SHIVER RUN DOWN HIS SPINE. HIS CONSCIOUSNESS SHIFTED. IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, HE WAS NO LONGER IN THE THRONE ROOM.
HE WAS SOARING ABOVE THE WORLD.
FROM THIS VANTAGE POINT, EVERYTHING LOOKED SMALL. THE SPRAWLING LANDSCAPE BELOW HIM SEEMED INSIGNIFICANT, LIKE A CHILD'S PLAYSET. THE TOWER OF SAGES, ONCE A TOWERING MONOLITH, WAS NOW MERELY AN EXTENSION OF HIS MIND, A CONDUIT FOR HIS WILL. HE COULD SEE EVERYTHING, FEEL EVERYTHING. THE MASSIVE WAR MACHINES, THE ARMIES LOCKED IN COMBAT, EVEN THE MINUSCULE HUMANOID FIGURES SCATTERED LIKE ANTS, HE WAS AWARE OF THEM ALL.
FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, HE UNDERSTOOD. THIS IS HOW THE SAGES SAW THEMSELVES AS GODS.
WHEN YOU LOOK DOWN ON THE WORLD FOR LONG ENOUGH, YOU FORGET WHAT IT MEANS TO BE PART OF IT.
BUT BASTIAN'S DIVINE VISION DID NOT LINGER. IT SNAPPED BACK TO REALITY, BACK TO THE TOWER, BACK TO THE DOOR BEHIND HIM, WHERE THE REAL BATTLE WAS UNFOLDING.
"NANA…" THE WORD SLIPPED FROM HIS LIPS.
HIS HEART SANK AS HIS EYES LOCKED ONTO THE SCENE. OUTSIDE THE THRONE ROOM LAY THE BODY OF A GIANT RED DRAGON, ITS FORM BATTERED AND BROKEN, RIDDLED WITH OVER A THOUSAND WOUNDS. ITS ONCE FIERCE EYES, NOW DULL AND LIFELESS, WERE STILL FIXED UPWARDS, STARING AT THE CHAOS IN THE SKY.
HIGH ABOVE, THE BATTLE RAGED ON. THE SAGE'S CLONE AND SCORMETHEUS WERE LOCKED IN A BITTER FIGHT, THEIR CONFLICT CONSUMING THE HEAVENS. WHATEVER FAMILIAL BOND THEY ONCE SHARED HAD LONG SINCE DISSOLVED. THE SAGE FOUGHT WITH ALL HIS MIGHT, USING FORBIDDEN MAGIC TO SHIELD THE TOWER FROM THE FALLOUT, BUT EVEN SO, BASTIAN TREMBLED WITH FEAR.
"SCORMETHEUS... WILL LOSE," BASTIAN WHISPERED.
THE THOUGHT HAD BARELY FORMED WHEN THE ANSWER FLASHED BEFORE HIM.
CALCULATION COMPLETE: SCORMETHEUS WILL BE DEFEATED IN 3 MINUTES AND 17 SECONDS. SEALED IN 4 MINUTES AND 1 SECOND.
THE SCREENS IN FRONT OF HIM LAID OUT THE BRUTAL TRUTH. THIS THRONE, THIS CHAIR, WASN'T JUST A SEAT OF POWER. IT WAS A SOPHISTICATED SYSTEM, AN AUXILIARY DEVICE CAPABLE OF CALCULATING THE FUTURE WITH TERRIFYING PRECISION. WITHOUT IT, NO ONE COULD WIELD SUCH OVERWHELMING CONTROL.
"FOUR MINUTES…" BASTIAN'S MIND RACED. "CAN I FINISH MY TASK IN TIME?"
0% PROBABILITY. IT IS RECOMMENDED TO EXECUTE THE SECOND BACKUP PLAN.
DESPAIR CLAWED AT HIM, BUT HE REFUSED TO SURRENDER. HIS GAZE SHARPENED, SCOURING THE BATTLEFIELD FOR A SOLUTION. THEN, IN A FLASH OF INSIGHT, HE FOUND IT, A SINGLE, DESPERATE CHANCE TO TURN THE TIDE.
WITH A FINAL BURST OF DETERMINATION, BASTIAN EXECUTED HIS PLAN. HIS THOUGHTS SHIFTED ONCE MORE, SOARING BEYOND THE CONFINES OF THE TOWER. THE WALLS BETWEEN PLANES MELTED AWAY, GRANTING HIM A CLEAR VIEW OF THE BATTLEFIELD BEYOND.
"SCORMETHEUS WAS RIGHT," HE MURMURED. "THE WORLD CAN'T BEAR THIS ANY LONGER."
AND WITH THAT, THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD'S FATE RESTED IN HIS HANDS.
IF THE CRACKS IN THE EARTH COULD BE DISMISSED AS TEMPORARY DAMAGE WROUGHT BY THE FORBIDDEN SPELLS, THEN THE SPATIAL RIFTS RIPPING THROUGH THE BATTLEFIELD, AND THE VERY FABRIC OF THE WORLD, WERE BEYOND ANYTHING BASTIAN COULD COMPREHEND, MUCH LESS REPAIR.
AT THE EDGES OF THE WORLD, A DARK VOID YAWNED WIDE, LIKE A BLACK HOLE DEVOURING EVERYTHING IN ITS PATH. THIS WASN'T JUST A TEAR IN REALITY; IT WAS A GAPING ABYSS, PULLING IN ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE NEAR IT. ONCE TRAPPED, THEY BECAME ETERNAL WANDERERS IN THE NOTHINGNESS, LOST FOREVER IN THE VAST, EMPTY EXPANSE.
BASTIAN'S MIND RACED. IF THE WORLD ONCE HAD A PROTECTIVE BARRIER, A THIN MEMBRANE SHIELDING IT FROM THE CHAOS OF THE VOID, THE RECKLESS ACTIONS OF THE ELVES HAVE TORN IT TO SHREDS. THE WORLD WAS NOW EXPOSED, NAKED TO THE VOID'S COLD INDIFFERENCE, WITHOUT PROTECTION, WITHOUT HOPE.
BUT THERE WAS NO TIME FOR REGRET OR REFLECTION. HIS ATTENTION SNAPPED BACK TO THE BATTLEFIELD, TO THE CORE OF THE CHAOS, WHERE THE SAGE STOOD, BESIEGED BY THE LEADERS OF VARIOUS RACES. DESPITE THEIR COMBINED MIGHT, THE SAGE REMAINED FORMIDABLE. HE HAD EVEN SPLIT HIMSELF INTO TWO, ONE HALF FOCUSED ON THIS BATTLE, THE OTHER ENGAGED IN A CONFLICT ELSEWHERE, AND YET HE STILL DOMINATED.
ALL ACROSS THE BATTLEFIELD, THE ELVES EXERTED OVERWHELMING PRESSURE ON THE COALITION FORCES. THEIR NUMBERS, ONCE AN ADVANTAGE, HAD NOW BECOME A CRUSHING BURDEN FOR THOSE WHO SOUGHT TO OPPOSE THEM. THE TIDE OF THE BATTLE WAS SHIFTING, BUT BASTIAN KNEW THAT THE WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY WOULD BE BRIEF.
"JUST ONE CHANCE..." HE WHISPERED, EYES CLOSED, HIS MIND PREPARING FOR THE CRUCIAL MOMENT WHEN THE BALANCE WOULD TIP.