THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE, A LEGENDARY SOURCE OF LIMITLESS MAGIC, WAS NOW IN THEIR HANDS, BUT NOT JUST ANY STONE, THE HIGHEST QUALITY IMAGINABLE. COUPLED WITH THE ELVEN CIVILIZATION'S MOST ADVANCED MAGICAL ARTIFACTS, THE RESULT WAS TERRIFYING.
"TAKE THE 'SIMPLE' WOODEN STAFF ONE OF THE PRINCES WIELDS," NANA EXPLAINED, "WITH JUST A TAP, IT CRACKED THE EARTH, SWALLOWING A CITY INTO A MASSIVE SINKHOLE. OR THE CRYSTAL SCEPTER, WAVE IT, AND THE DEAD RISE FROM THE BATTLEFIELD, TURNING INTO AN ARMY OF SOULS THAT FIGHT FOR THE VERY MURDERER WHO KILLED THEM."
"AND THE SHIELD," BASTIAN ADDED, REMEMBERING THE REPORTS. "A SMALL, ROUND THING THAT LOOKS LIKE IT COULD SHATTER WITH A TOUCH, YET IT CAN BLOCK DRAGON FIRE AND DEFLECT BOULDERS THE SIZE OF HOUSES."
"EXACTLY," NANA NODDED. "AND THOSE ARE JUST A FEW OF THE ARTIFACTS. THE PRINCES WIELD THEM WITH EASE, TEARING THROUGH ARMIES AND DEFENSES. THEY'VE BECOME THE MOST UNBALANCED FORCE ON THE BATTLEFIELD. BUT THE WORST OF ALL IS THE 'SOUL-SUCKING CROWN.'"
BASTIAN'S EYES DARKENED AT THE MENTION OF IT. "THE ONE JORDAN WIELDS, RIGHT?"
"YES," NANA CONFIRMED. "NO FORCE IN THE COALITION HAS BEEN ABLE TO STAND AGAINST HIM. IT'S AS IF THE BATTLEFIELD ITSELF BENDS TO HIS WILL WHEN HE WEARS IT."
THESE SO-CALLED GODS HAD TURNED THE TIDE OF THE WAR, LEAVING THE COALITION FORCES SCRAMBLING TO ADOPT NEW STRATEGIES, GUERRILLA WARFARE, LONG-RANGE SKIRMISHES, ANYTHING TO AVOID DIRECT CONFRONTATION. ATTRITION SEEMED THE ONLY OPTION UNTIL A WEAKNESS COULD BE FOUND.
"IT'S NO WONDER," NANA CONTINUED, HER VOICE LOWERING AS IF SHARING A DANGEROUS SECRET. "THOSE ARTIFACTS ARE POWERED BY MORE THAN JUST THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. THEY CONTAIN COUNTLESS SOULS, AND THE VERY ESSENCE OF NATURE, THE LAWS THAT GOVERN THE WORLD ITSELF."
"IN A SENSE," BASTIAN MUSED, "THEY REALLY ARE GODS, AT LEAST, THEY'VE MASTERED THE LAWS OF NATURE."
"THAT WAS THE CONCLUSION OF ONE OF OUR TOP WIZARDS," NANA SAID GRAVELY. "IT'S WHY MOST SOLDIERS REFUSE TO FIGHT ANY OF THE ELVEN PRINCES HEAD-ON. THEY KNOW IT'S A LOSING BATTLE."
THANKFULLY, THE NUMBER OF ARTIFACTS AND THE PRINCES THEMSELVES WERE LIMITED. EVEN WITH THEIR IMMENSE POWER, THEY COULD ONLY DOMINATE A SPECIFIC AREA AT A TIME, UNABLE TO COMPLETELY DECIMATE THE ENTIRE COALITION.
"STILL," NANA ADDED, "BASED ON THE INTEL WE'VE GATHERED, IT TAKES TIME FOR THESE SO-CALLED GODS, 'FIRE GOD,' 'DEATH GOD,' 'WATER GOD', TO FULLY RESONATE WITH THEIR ARTIFACTS AND UNLOCK THEIR FULL POTENTIAL. THAT'S WHY WE THINK SCORMETHEUSMITHUS MIGHT HAVE ONE TOO, THOUGH WE HAVEN'T SEEN HIM USE IT YET. A DIRECT FIGHT WITH HIM WOULD BE A MISTAKE."
BASTIAN NODDED. "WE'LL AVOID THAT, IF WE CAN. HE'S GOT ENOUGH WEAKNESSES THAT WE MIGHT NOT NEED TO RESORT TO VIOLENCE."
AS IF ON CUE, A LOUD, DRUNKEN VOICE ECHOED THROUGH THE CORRIDOR. BASTIAN'S HEART SKIPPED A BEAT. "BEAUTY!" SLURRED THE VOICE.
BEFORE BASTIAN COULD REACT, THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN AND A STAGGERING, INEBRIATED FIGURE STUMBLED INTO VIEW. SCORMETHEUS. THE SIGHT OF HIM, DISHEVELED AND WILD-EYED, SENT A SHIVER DOWN BASTIAN'S SPINE. HIS HAND INSTINCTIVELY MOVED TOWARD HIS KNIFE.
NANA GRABBED HIS ARM BEFORE HE COULD DRAW IT, HER EYES NARROWING AS SHE WHISPERED, "STAY CALM. THIS IS EXACTLY THE KIND OF OPPORTUNITY WE NEED."
BASTAIN TOOK A DEEP BREATH, RESISTING THE URGE TO SLICE THE DRUNKEN ELF WHERE HE STOOD. THIS WAS THEIR CHANCE. NOW, IT WAS ALL A MATTER OF GETTING THE INFORMATION THEY NEEDED, WITHOUT LETTING THINGS SPIRAL INTO CHAOS.
THE FOUR DRAGON SISTERS MOVED IN UNISON, THEIR GRACEFUL GESTURES CASTING A VEIL OF MAGIC OVER THE ROOM. THE REAL DANCERS, UNAWARE OF WHAT HAD HAPPENED, WERE EFFORTLESSLY WHISKED AWAY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A SPELL. BY THE TIME THEY WOKE, THEY WOULD HAVE NO MEMORY OF THE AFTERNOON, ONLY THE DULL ACHE OF A HANGOVER, AS IF THEY'D SIMPLY INDULGED TOO MUCH IN THE TAVERN'S WINE.
THE REAL MASTERMIND BEHIND THIS SUBTLE MANIPULATION WAS ONE OF THE BLUE DRAGON SISTERS, A MASTER OF MENTAL MAGIC. WITH THE HELP OF THE POTIONS THEY HAD PREPARED, SHE WAS CONFIDENT THAT WHEN SCORMETHEUS FINALLY AWOKE, HE WOULD REMEMBER NOTHING OF WHAT HE HAD REVEALED. THIS PLAN WASN'T JUST ABOUT AVOIDING DIRECT CONFRONTATION; IT WAS ABOUT EXTRACTING THE SECRETS THEY NEEDED WITHOUT RAISING ANY SUSPICION, ALLOWING THE COALITION TO DEVISE NEW STRATEGIES WITHOUT TIPPING OFF THE ENEMY.
NANA, SKILLED MAGICIAN, PLAYED HER PART WITH EASE. HER SOFT WORDS, LACED WITH MENTAL MAGIC, GUIDED SCORMETHEUS INTO A STATE OF COMPLETE VULNERABILITY. COMBINED WITH THE ENCHANTED POTION, THE UNSUSPECTING PRINCE FELL HEADLONG INTO HER CAREFULLY CRAFTED TRAP.
"AH, THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE WAREHOUSE," SCORMETHEUS MUMBLED THROUGH A DRUNKEN GRIN. "I CAN'T TELL YOU THAT... UNLESS YOU GIVE ME A KISS! HAHA, MY LITTLE BEAUTY, IT'S IN THE DISTRICT OF THE ROYAL CAPITAL."
NANA'S SMILE REMAINED CALM AS SHE COAXED FURTHER, "AND THE ARTIFACT'S WEAKNESS?"
SCORMETHEUS LAUGHED, HIS WORDS SLURRED BUT CONFIDENT. "WEAKNESS? HA! MY FATHER SEALED THE LAWS OF NATURE IN THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE! WE, WHO CONTROL THE ARTIFACT, ARE GODS OF THE EARTH. OUR ATTACKS ARE THE WILL OF THE WORLD ITSELF."
AS HE RAMBLED ON, HE REVEALED MORE THAN HE REALIZED, HIS VOICE GROWING DREAMIER. "THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE IS INVINCIBLE, INDESTRUCTIBLE. BUT... THE DEATH FIRE COULD DESTROY IT? WHERE'D YOU HEAR THAT NONSENSE? I'VE HEARD RUMORS OF THE OTHER TWO CREATION FIRES, 'ORIGIN FIRE,' WHICH HOLDS THE SECRETS OF THE SOUL AND EARTH, AND 'FORESEEING FLAMES,' A MAGIC SO MYSTERIOUS THAT NO ONE TRULY KNOWS ITS POWER. COMBINE ALL THREE, AND YOU COULD FORGE AN ALCHEMICAL FLAME THAT DISSOLVES EVERYTHING."
NANA'S EYES GLEAMED WITH EVERY REVELATION. SCORMETHEUS WAS OFFERING THEM THE KIND OF INTELLIGENCE THAT COULD SHIFT THE BALANCE OF POWER. HE CONTINUED, OBLIVIOUS TO THE MAGNITUDE OF HIS WORDS, "THE MOST IMPORTANT ARTIFACT? THE SOUL-DRAINING CROWN, OF COURSE. IT'S IN THE TOWER OF ORIGIN."
AND WITH THAT, THE PRINCE, WHO BELIEVED HIMSELF INVINCIBLE, HAD UNKNOWINGLY DIVULGED SECRETS OF THE HIGHEST ORDER.
SIX OR SEVEN HOURS LATER, SCORMETHEUS LAY FAST ASLEEP, SNORING LOUDLY IN THE BROTHEL, BLISSFULLY UNAWARE OF THE INFORMATION HE HAD JUST LEAKED. MEANWHILE, THE IMPROMPTU DANCER AND ARTIST HAD ALREADY SLIPPED OUT, THEIR FACES GLOWING WITH EXCITEMENT.
"THIS IS IT! WE HIT THE JACKPOT THIS TIME," ONE OF THEM SAID, UNABLE TO SUPPRESS A GRIN.
"WITH THIS INTEL, WE'VE GOT A REAL SHOT NOW," ANOTHER WHISPERED.
"SMARTEST PRINCE IN THE REALM? MORE LIKE A FILTHY PERVERT," SOMEONE MUTTERED, CHUCKLING.
THE GROUP, PART-TIME SPIES, HADN'T ANTICIPATED HOW EASY IT WOULD BE TO EXTRACT SUCH CRUCIAL INFORMATION FROM SOMEONE SO HIGH-RANKING. ONLY BASTIAN, STILL HAUNTED BY A VAGUE SENSE OF UNEASE, REMAINED QUIET.
"IT ALL WENT TOO SMOOTHLY," HE MURMURED, TROUBLED. SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHOLE SITUATION FELT OFF.
BUT THERE WAS NO TIME FOR SECOND THOUGHTS. JUST AS THE TEAM PREPARED TO LEAVE, A GROUP OF ELVEN GUARDS PASSED BY. THE SPIES FELL SILENT, LOWERING THEIR HEADS AND AVOIDING EYE CONTACT. THEIR PRIORITY NOW WAS SIMPLE, ESCAPE THE DANGER ZONE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE.
THEY DESCENDED THE STAIRS AND VANISHED INTO THE BUSTLING STREETS. BUT AS THEY DID, FAR ABOVE, SCORMETHEUS STIRRED. HE AWOKE WITH A CALM, CALCULATED EXPRESSION. THERE WAS NO SIGN OF DRUNKENNESS, NO TRACE OF THE DELIRIUM THAT HAD OVERTAKEN HIM JUST HOURS BEFORE. IN FACT, HIS EYES GLEAMED WITH CLARITY AND MISCHIEF.
SLOWLY, HE SAUNTERED OVER TO THE CANVAS BASTIAN HAD LEFT BEHIND, HIS GAZE RESTING ON THE CRUDE STICK FIGURE SKETCH. CLICKING HIS TONGUE IN DISAPPROVAL, HE MUTTERED, "TSK, AMATEUR WORK. WATCH HOW IT'S DONE."
WITH A FEW EXPERT STROKES, SCORMETHEUS TRANSFORMED BASTIAN'S ROUGH DRAWING INTO A LIFELIKE PORTRAIT. THE EXPRESSION OF THE RED DRAGON, CAPTURED IN ALL ITS HELPLESS FRUSTRATION AS SHE WAS EMBRACED BY THE ELF PRINCE, WAS PARTICULARLY VIVID, ALMOST TOO PERFECT IN ITS DETAIL.
"HAHA, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, NANA'S STILL SO ADORABLY NAÏVE," SCORMETHEUS CHUCKLED TO HIMSELF. HE HAD ALWAYS ENJOYED THESE LITTLE GAMES. BUT THERE WAS NO TIME TO LINGER. WITH A FEW FINAL ADJUSTMENTS, HE ROLLED UP THE PAINTING AND CAREFULLY TUCKED IT INTO HIS SPACE BAG. HE HAD ANOTHER PERFORMANCE TO PREPARE FOR.
AND THEN, IN A FLASH OF LIGHT, SCORMETHEUS TRANSFORMED. HIS TALL, REGAL FORM SHIFTED AND CHANGED, FEATHERS SPROUTING WHERE SKIN HAD BEEN. IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, THE ELVEN PRINCE HAD BECOME A MAGNIFICENT SNOW-WHITE NORTHERN SNOWY OWL.
THE BIRD SOARED SILENTLY INTO THE NIGHT SKY, ITS WINGS CUTTING THROUGH THE AIR WITH EFFORTLESS GRACE. FEW KNEW THE TRUTH, BUT THE SECRET WAS NOW CLEAR: THE ELUSIVE SNOW OWL, THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE WHISPERED ABOUT IN LEGEND, HAD ALWAYS BEEN SCORMETHEUS, MASTER OF DECEPTION, AND A PRINCE WITH MORE LAYERS THAN ANYONE COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED.
HOW DO YOU BREATHE LIFE INTO A PAINTING? IT'S SIMPLER THAN YOU MIGHT THINK, JUST SPLASH ON THE COLORS OF NATURE. A STRETCH OF GREEN GRASS, A WIDE, CLEAR BLUE SKY, AND THE LIVELY MOTION OF ANIMALS. THESE ELEMENTS ALONE CAN TRANSFORM A CANVAS INTO A VIBRANT WORLD.
BUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STRIP ALL THAT AWAY? WHEN THE GREEN IS ERASED, THE ANIMALS DISAPPEAR, AND THE SKY FADES TO A DULL VOID? WHAT REMAINS IS A BARREN WORLD, THIN SOIL BENEATH A THIN ATMOSPHERE, A LIFELESS LANDSCAPE, AND A VISION OF DESOLATION. A SCENE SO SIMPLE IN ITS EMPTINESS, YET IT SPEAKS VOLUMES, EVOKING THE STARK IMAGERY OF A DOOMSDAY.
THIS WAS EXACTLY THE SIGHT THAT LAY BEFORE SCORMETHEUS THAT DAY.
"YOUR HIGHNESS, THE FIRST PHASE OF THE X07 WORLD EXPERIMENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED," A VOICE BROKE THE SILENCE, ADDRESSING HIM. "THIS IS OUR PRELIMINARY REPORT AND ESTIMATE."
"NO NEED," SCORMETHEUS INTERRUPTED. "I JUST RETURNED FROM THERE. I SAW IT ALL WITH MY OWN EYES."