DRIVEN BY DESPERATION, THE TWO SOULS REACHED OUT, TRYING TO STOP THEIR IGNORANT SELVES. BUT THEIR HANDS PASSED THROUGH THEM LIKE WISPS OF SMOKE, LEAVING NOTHING BUT A COLD EMPTINESS.
"IT'S NO USE," SCORMETHEUS SAID SOFTLY. "WE CAN'T TOUCH THEM."
"TWO WORLDS NOT ALIGNED ON THE SAME TIME AXIS CAN'T INTERACT," BASTIAN MUSED. "IF WE WEREN'T ON THIS ISOLATED ISLAND OUTSIDE OF ALL TIME AND SPACE, WE WOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO SEE THEM."
"BUT THE FACT THAT WE CAN OBSERVE THEM," HIS COMPANION PONDERED, "DOES THAT MEAN WE'VE BEEN COMPLETELY SEVERED FROM TIME AND SPACE?"
BEFORE BASTIAN COULD RESPOND, A SHARP "BANG!" ECHOED THROUGH THE AIR, STARTLING THEM BOTH. THE SUDDEN SOUND SHATTERED THEIR CONFUSION, PULLING THEIR ATTENTION BACK TO THE PRESENT.
FROM THE OPEN DOOR OF THE BAR, THE FAMILIAR AROMA OF RICH WINE WAFTED OUT, A COMFORTING AND REASSURING SCENT THAT SEEMED OUT OF PLACE AMIDST THEIR TURMOIL.
A DEEP, RESONANT VOICE CALLED OUT, "CHILD, LET ME HEAR YOUR STORY, YOUR JOURNEY TO SALVATION."
BASTIAN TURNED TO SEE THE GOD OF DEATH SEATED AT A TABLE INSIDE, A MYSTERIOUS SMILE PLAYING ON HIS LIPS. THE SCENE WAS EERILY REMINISCENT OF THE LEGENDARY "BOASTFUL KING" TALE, EXCEPT THIS TIME, THE SAVIOR HERO WAS SOMEONE ENTIRELY DIFFERENT.
"ME? SAVE THE WORLD?" BASTIAN SCOFFED, A FLICKER OF ANGER FLASHING IN HIS EYES. "STOP JOKING."
THOUGH IT WAS HIS FIRST TIME HEARING THE DEITY'S VOICE, AN INEXPLICABLE FURY WELLED UP WITHIN HIM. "IN A SENSE," HE CONTINUED BITTERLY, "I'M THE ONE WHO PRESSED THE BUTTON TO DESTROY THE WORLD."
THE GOD OF DEATH GAZED AT HIM CALMLY. "AND YET, HERE YOU STAND."
BEFORE BASTIAN COULD RETORT, THE DIMLY LIT BAR TRANSFORMED. COUNTLESS IMAGES MATERIALIZED AROUND THEM, SWIRLING LIKE A VORTEX OF MEMORIES AND POSSIBILITIES. THEY WERE GLIMPSES OF INFINITE TIMELINES, A MOSAIC OF FUTURES YET TO UNFOLD.
"BEHOLD," THE DEITY INTONED, "THE MANY PATHS YOUR ACTIONS HAVE SET INTO MOTION."
BASTIAN WATCHED IN AWE AND HORROR AS SCENES PLAYED OUT BEFORE HIM. WHEN THE APOCALYPSE CAME, COUNTLESS PORTALS TO DIFFERENT PLANES OPENED UP ACROSS THE FRACTURED EARTH. IN THOSE FINAL MOMENTS, AS THE PLANET TORE ITSELF APART AND SPATIAL RIFTS EXPANDED UNCONTROLLABLY, TENS OF THOUSANDS OF SURVIVORS RUSHED TOWARD THE UNKNOWN.
"AT THE END OF THE DOOMSDAY WAR," THE GOD OF DEATH NARRATED, "MOST OF HUMANITY GATHERED IN A HANDFUL OF LARGE SAFE ZONES. THE GATES YOU CREATED, BASTIAN, EXPANDED NATURALLY AROUND THEM."
"WHERE DID THEY ESCAPE TO?" BASTIAN WHISPERED, HIS VOICE BARELY AUDIBLE. "I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THOSE GATES LED. I JUST USED THE PLANES LISTED IN THE ELF DATABASE THAT COULD SUPPORT LIFE."
A FAINT SMILE TUGGED AT BASTAIN'S LIPS. "YOU'RE RIGHT. I'M RELIEVED THAT THE ELVES HAVE SURVIVED IN SOME FORM. THE ELVES OF LATER GENERATIONS ARE MUCH EASIER TO DEAL WITH THAN OUR ANCESTORS EVER WERE. THE CHASMS BETWEEN THE RACES HAVE NARROWED, AND THE ELVES ARE NO LONGER THE ADVERSARIES OF ALL OTHER BEINGS."
SUDDENLY, A THOUGHT STRUCK HIM, AND A HEARTY LAUGH BURST FORTH. "HAHAHA! FATHER, YOU'RE ACTUALLY WORSE OFF THAN ME!"
SCORMETHEUS RAISED AN EYEBROW, A PUZZLED EXPRESSION CROSSING HIS FACE. "WHAT'S SO AMUSING?"
BASTAIN SHOOK HIS HEAD, STILL CHUCKLING. "OH, IT'S NOTHING. JUST AN OLD MEMORY."
AS THEIR LAUGHTER ECHOED AND GRADUALLY FADED, THE TWO "HEROES" FOUND THEMSELVES DRAWN BACK TO THE COZY WARMTH OF THE TAVERN. THE GOD OF DEATH AWAITED THEM INSIDE, HIS EYES GLEAMING WITH ANCIENT WISDOM.
"COME," THE GOD BECKONED, GESTURING TO THE SEATS ACROSS FROM HIM. "SHARE YOUR STORIES AND YOUR SONGS. LET ME HEAR OF YOUR JOURNEYS AND YOUR TRIUMPHS."
BASTAIN AND SCORMETHEUS EXCHANGED A GLANCE BEFORE SETTLING INTO THEIR CHAIRS. BASTAIN LEANED FORWARD, A DETERMINED GLINT IN HIS EYE. "SACRIFICE? IF THAT'S WHAT'S REQUIRED, I'M WILLING. I WANT TO BE PART OF SOMETHING GREATER."
THE GOD OF DEATH SMILED SUBTLY. "THEN PERHAPS IT'S TIME YOU KNEW A SECRET, A CHOICE THAT LIES BEFORE YOU."
SCORMETHEUS LEANED IN, INTRIGUED. "A CHOICE?"
"YES," THE DEITY REPLIED. "THE CITY OF HEROES EXISTS OUTSIDE THE FLOW OF TIME. WHEN THE WORLD TEETERS ON THE BRINK, MORTALS MAY SUMMON IT TO RESTORE BALANCE. WOULD YOU ACCEPT THE CALL?"
BASTAIN GRINNED. "ARE WE QUALIFIED?"
SCORMETHEUS SHRUGGED CASUALLY. "WELL, WELL, I'VE GOT NOTHING BETTER TO DO."
THE GOD OF DEATH'S EYES TWINKLED. "VERY WELL. WHEN THE TIME COMES, YOU SHALL BE SUMMONED."
AND SO, AS THE AGES TURNED AND THE WORLD CHANGED, THE TWO HEROES AWAITED THE MOMENT THEY WOULD BE CALLED BACK, A NEW STORY WAITING TO UNFOLD.
---
BUT LET'S STEP BACK FOR A MOMENT, TO A TIME WHEN BASTAIN HAD TURNED TO ASHES, AND SCORMETHEUS WAS LEFT ALONE, GATHERING THE REMNANTS OF HIS FALLEN FRIEND.
"FATHER..." SCORMETHEUS MURMURED, HIS VOICE CRACKING WITH EMOTION.
HE COLLAPSED TO HIS KNEES, HELPLESS AND CONSUMED BY GUILT. UNLIKE HIS FUTURE SELF, HE SAW ONLY THE DEVASTATION OF THE WORLD AND FELT THE STING OF BETRAYAL BY THE GOD OF DEATH. TEARS BLURRED HIS VISION AS HE LOOKED UPON THE PUPPET SAGE, HIS FATHER, NOW REDUCED TO JUST HALF A BODY.
EVEN IN A WORLD LAID TO WASTE, A BEING OF SUCH IMMENSE POWER CLUNG TO EXISTENCE. YET NOW, MADNESS HAD CLAIMED HIM.
"NO, NO, NO!" THE SAGE RAVED, HIS EYES WILD WITH DESPAIR. "OUR RACE CANNOT END LIKE THIS! IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SO SOON!"
SCORMETHEUS WATCHED, HEARTBROKEN, AS HIS FATHER TORE AT HIS HAIR. "WE SHOULD HAVE HAD A HUNDRED MORE YEARS, BUT IT'S ALL GONE!" THE SAGE LAMENTED. "IT WAS OUR ACTIONS THAT FORCED THE CREATOR GODS TO HASTEN DOOMSDAY. COULD IT BE, WAS IT MY ACTIONS THAT BROUGHT THE END FASTER?"
THE SAGE'S RAMBLINGS SPIRALED INTO INCOHERENCE. DARK MAGIC SWIRLED AROUND HIM, UNCONTROLLED AND CHAOTIC. IN A HORRIFYING TRANSFORMATION, HE BECAME A DEMONIC WRAITH, HIS FORM DISSOLVING UNTIL ONLY HIS LOWER HALF REMAINED.
"FATHER, STOP!" SCORMETHEUS CRIED OUT, REACHING TOWARD HIM.
BUT BEFORE HE COULD INTERVENE, HIS FATHER SEIZED HIM WITH A GRIP LIKE IRON. "YOU MUST BE PRESERVED," THE SAGE HISSED, HIS EYES GLOWING WITH A SINISTER LIGHT.
WITH A SWIFT MOTION, HE SEALED SCORMETHEUS WITHIN A STONE TABLET THAT ROSE FROM THE GROUND. "SLEEP NOW, MY SON. SLEEP UNTIL A NEW DAWN BREAKS."
REALIZATION WASHED OVER SCORMETHEUS. "I MIGHT BE TRAPPED HERE FOR AGES," HE THOUGHT, A MIXTURE OF FEAR AND RESIGNATION SETTLING IN HIS HEART.
YET, THIS WAS NOT THE END OF SCORMETHEUS'S TALE.
TRAPPED AND POWERLESS, SCORMETHEUS WAS CONSUMED BY REGRET. "IS THIS MY PUNISHMENT FOR HELPING BRING ABOUT THE WORLD'S END?" HE PONDERED. THE WEIGHT OF HIS ACTIONS PRESSED HEAVILY UPON HIM AS HE WATCHED THE DARK MAGIC WEAVE AROUND HIS PRISON.
THEN, SOMETHING EVEN MORE STARTLING OCCURRED.
HIS FATHER, THE MADDENED SAGE, LIFTED THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN, ITS SURFACE GLINTING OMINOUSLY. PLACING IT UPON HIS HEAD, HE MUTTERED ARCANE WORDS, EACH SYLLABLE DRIPPING WITH MADNESS.
SUDDENLY, THE CROWN ERUPTED WITH BLACK LIGHT, AN OTHERWORLDLY GLOW THAT BATHED THE SURROUNDINGS IN SHADOWS.
"IT'S NOT OVER YET," THE SAGE DECLARED, HIS VOICE ECHOING UNNATURALLY. "THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING!"
A SURGE OF ENERGY BURST FORTH, AND SCORMETHEUS SHIELDED HIS EYES. WHEN HE DARED TO LOOK AGAIN, HIS FATHER HAD VANISHED, LEAVING ONLY THE FAINT HUM OF LINGERING MAGIC.
ALONE AND ENTOMBED, SCORMETHEUS CLOSED HIS EYES. "PERHAPS THERE'S STILL HOPE," HE WHISPERED TO HIMSELF. "PERHAPS ONE DAY, I'LL MAKE THINGS RIGHT."