"Archmages Samos and Ladwyr will accompany His Highness to his mother, alongside Rayla,"Aaravos says, "That leaves myself, Archmages Canna and Elleth, as well as Sihr, and my 'umi."
"As much as I appreciate the inclusion, my child," Lady Altumanina says, "I am old, and hath left the battlefield far behind me. I will not join thee in this fight, after all, thou art held to this task by the Gods Themselves."
Aaravos nods, "Very well."
"If.." Canna says, pausing, before she continues, "if you are given to this task, of hunting down this rogue dark mage, by the Gods Themselves, then I will leave you to it. I must continue to protect the border. The number of humans amassing at the breach has increased of late, and their skirmishes with our scouts increase. I fear an assault is imminent. My duty is to the protection of my people and to our monarch, to whom I have sworn my oath."
"I will assist you," Elleth says, "as my heart-chosen, and as a fellow Archmage, I would be remiss in not aiding you."
"Congratulations," Aaravos says, "may the Gods bless your union."
Rare is it, Aaravos knows, that two Archmages chose to bind themselves to one another in the manner of spouses, so different are the cultures of elvenkind.
And though he is not the closest to these two Archamages, a union such as theirs shows promise and he briefly reaches out, finding their threads of fate in the stars, wound together until their eventual passing.
"Walk beneath the Stars, and beneath the Sun, bound together by thy hearts and souls, to walk beside the Sea at the end of all things," he says quietly, the age-old blessing surprisingly warm on his tongue.
Canna blinks rapidly, bowing her head.
"Thank you, Paragon Aaravos, for your blessing," Canna says, her voice slightly unsteady, "and...forgive me, I was wrong to act without knowing the truth of your actions, too blind to look past my dislike of you."
Aaravos folds his hands together, considering. If Canna had spoken to him before, if so many things had not happened…
"I think...forgiveness will come in time, Canna," Aaravos says at last, meeting Canna's bright gaze squarely, "Perhaps it was the will of the Gods that it was so, and as such forgiveness will bloom when it is given time at last to grow."
Canna nods, and stands, "Come, Elleth, we've work to do."
Elleth follows her, "Farewell, and may we meet again when your task is complete."
"Good hunting," Canna says and then the two Archmages vanish beyond the trees.
"We should also head out," Samos says, helping Ladwyr to her feet, Rayla scooping up Zym into her arms, the little dragon squawking in protest.
Samos raises their fingers to their lips and whistles, a sharp, piercing sound that is abruptly followed by the sound of distant wings.
A Lightfeather bird, with dark blue wings nearly six feet long, lands in one of the trees overhead, trilling a greeting. Its bright orange eyes watch the group, talons shifting on the branches, croaking lowly.
"That...is a very big bird…" Callum says faintly.
"Wait till you see a full grown dragon," Rayla grins at him, "They're much bigger."
Aaravos laughs. "This is true,"he admits.
"Rayla," Callum says, stepping forward, reaching out to the elf who grasps his hands, a warm smile on her lips.
"Yeah?"
"Just, be careful," Callum says quietly. "I don't know how the Dragon Queen is gonna react. And...please tell her that Ez was the one to save Zym. He wouldn't be here if not for him."
"I know," Rayla replies, stance shifting as the Dragon Prince clambers up to her shoulders, chirping happily. She sighs, "I just wish Ez could be here to give Zym back himself. He started this journey, he should be here with us."
Fate's weave, Aaravos thinks, is not always kind, Ezran carries the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders now, too early for such a young child, even one that Callum has described as gentle and wise beyond his years at times.
"I know," Callum agrees, "But...you know."
"Yeah," Rayla says, leaning forward, pressing her forehead against Callum's, "what are you planning to do though?"
"I...don't know," Callum says, "I was thinking I would help Alab find Viren."
He turns to Aaravos.
Aaravos frowns."Viren is a dangerous enemy," he says, "I want you safe, Sihr."
"You can't keep me safe forever, Alab," Callum says stubbornly.
He looks so much like his mother in that moment, bright eyes, and crossed arms, Aaravos thinks.
"I know that," Aaravos says, "but it is my fight, not yours."
"Then I can provide backup," Callum argues.
"It will still be dangerous!" Aaravos retorts, a flare of fear clutching at his heart at the sudden image of Callum lying wounded and bleeding as Sarai had been, his breath gasping in his throat, choking—
He will not take his son into a battle he is not ready for. His wife would not forgive him if their son died for his sake.
"Alab!" Callum protests, "Let me help you! I'm strong enough."
"No, you are not! You are still learning!" Aaravos hisses, "Viren is a wielder of dark magic, and he is more powerful than you know!"
"I don't want to lose you too!" Callum shouts.
There is a moment of stunned silence.
"I can't do it, Alab," Callum whispers, and there are tears in his eyes. "Please, take me with you, if nothing else, I can provide support."
Aaravos feels tears at his own eyes, and he hugs Callum, clutching his son close. "I don't want to risk your life, my son. You are all I have left of your beloved mother. I want you to stay safe, and the best place would be away from this fight."
"I know," Callum says. "But if Viren is as dangerous as you say, then you will need backup."
"He is a mage in his own right," Lady Altumanina breaks in, "And thou wilt need another in this battle, I fear."
"'umi!" Aaravos cries, turning to look at his mother. "You cannot be condoning this!"
"He art as stubborn as thou art, my son," Lady Altumanina says, "Thou wilt not leave him behind. He wilt find a way to join you in this fight if thou do."
Aaravos glances down at his son, who stares back at him, star-marks glittering.
"Let me aid you then," Ladwyr says, "For only one Archmage needs to go accompany young Rayla to the Queen."
"Ladwyr, are you sure?" Samos asks. "You are still recovering yourself."
"I am," Ladwyr replies and her eyes are bright, clear and focused in a way that Aaravos has not seen in years.
"Alab," Callum says quietly.
Aaravos closes his eyes, and finally nods.
"Archmage Ladwyr, you will protect my son alone, for this is my battle to fight. No one else's," Aaravos says firmly, opening his eyes.
"By the Moon's Light, it shall be so," Ladwyr vows.
Callum smiles up at Aaravos, "Thank you."
Aaravos's heart clenches in his chest, words caught in his throat. He can't say all the words he wants to say, so he just nods.
Rayla looks to Ladwyr, then to Callum before she steps forward, unwinding a length of cloth from her arm, tying it around Callum's wrist.
"My mother and father gave this to me, in anticipation of my training to become an assassin," she says, "as a kind of good luck charm. I think you'll need it more than me today."
"Are you sure?" Callum asks, wide-eyed.
"Yes," Rayla says decisively. "Come back in one piece, and still breathing."
"I will," Callum promises.
"Be safe," Samos says, casting a glance over them all. "We will meet at the mountain when it is done."
"Yes," Aaravos replies. "We will.
It doesn't take long after that to coax the Lightfeather to carry both Rayla and Zym and Samos takes off first, leading the way north.
Aaravos notes the glance that Rayla and his son share, as the Lightfeather pushes off the ground, a depth of meaning passing between the two even through such a small movement. There is a bond there that is more than friendship—that much is certain, given Rayla's gift.
"Now," he says, turning back to the pool that lies in the center of the Grove of Elders, "Now we must find Viren."
"For thee, my son," Lady Altumanina says, "This should be an easy task."
"Mayhaps," Aaravos says, "Sihr, would you help me?"
It takes a few minutes, their combined magic swirling out, searching.
The images in the water crystallize at last and Aaravos can feel when the magic connects, finding the target that they've sought.
Aaravos catches a glimpse of a mountaintop, shrouded in looming clouds, lightning flickering across the sky, hears a voice raised in anger, the sharp sting of dark magic.
"Viren's at the Cursed Caldera, where the Moon Nexus is!" Callum exclaims.
"Then we must face him there," Aaravos says grimly.
"Go, my son," Lady Altumanina says, "And the Gods go with thee."
"We will meet again, honored mother," Aaravos says softly.
"I pray we do," his mother replies, and steps back, as Aaravos grasps his son's hand, before extending his other hand to Ladwyr.
Traveling vast distances in the blink of an eye would be exhausting to any other mage, but Aaravos is a Paragon reborn, and the spell takes minimal effort, so within the span of a few heartbeats, they stand atop the Moon Nexus's peak.
The smell of blood hits Aaravos's nose first, and he snarls, a low growl that is echoed by thunder rolling overhead.
There are bodies lying about them; Moonshadow elves, many with weapons still in their hands, wind-skimmers, their vibrant tails dulled in death, even a Moon Phoenix, beside whom lies a Moonshadow elf bearing the sigil of a Guardian upon her blood splattered robes.
"Lujanne!" Callum cries, rushing to her side, pressing his hands, healing magic gathering about him as Ladwyr joins him.
There is a voice on the wind, harsh, distorted by Dark magic, and it takes Aaravos but a moment to gather the intention, turning the words over in his mind, rearranging them into their true intention.
Viren aims to strike at the heart of Elvendom, its leader, the Dragon Queen, the one who ordered the death of King Harrow.
Aaravos cannot allow such a spell to be finished.
"Viren!" he roars.
The mage turns from where he stands over the corpse of a Moonshadow warrior.
Dark magic seems to seep from his eyes, the pupils mere pinpricks of light in sunken sockets.
Aaravos summons his spear, throwing himself forward. This is his fight, and he draws all of his power as the Morning Star to the forefront, calling on the Stars to guide his spear, on the Sun to give him strength, the Earth for stability, the Ocean for calm in the midst of battle, the Moon to shatter the illusion of power that Viren cloaks himself in, and on the Sky for courage.
Viren seems caught off guard at first, but quickly rallies. He is no frontline fighter, not having been trained at a young age for combat as many elves were, that much is clear.
He is however, light on his feet and adaptable, like one of the dancers that Aaravos had seen at festivals in his younger years.
Lightning flashes past Aaravos, nearly hitting Viren, and Aaravos can sense his son's magic about the bolt, the spell fizzling out as it misses.
"Stay back!" Aaravos shouts, the words of his mother tongue sharp with his worry, "This is my fight!"
"I know that!" his son calls back in the same language, his voice suddenly panicked, "Look out, father!"
It is at that moment, that Viren swings his staff up, darkness at its edge, blade glimmering in the flare of lightning overhead.
Aaravos snarls a curse, dodging the blow, though it slices across his arm, blood dripping to the ground.
Viren smiles, a jagged, mad thing stretched too thin across a face marred by the corruption of dark magic.
Once, he had been a young man, untouched by darkness, now it seeped from him as if he were a wellspring, tainting the world about him.
Once, he had been a man devoted to his king, willing to lay down his life for that man, now he was something twisted by ambition, willing to do anything and everything to hold onto his power.
O Thanna, O Tolth, O mighty Tamas, guide my hand, Aaravos prays, even as Viren begins another chant, the words twisted by the Dark magic within, the wind building to an unnatural shriek.
Aaravos calls out, his voice lost in the tumult, and pulls down lightning, wielding it as a weapon against this foe, who has wounded his son in years prior, who is at least partially responsible for the death of Aaravos's beloved wife.
"Burn," Aaravos snarls, flame roaring out from the edge of his spear, setting Viren's ragged cloak alight, though the mage quickly throws it off, eyes dripping black ichor.
Viren is still chanting, the words harsher and more biting.
Aaravos throws bolt after bolt of lightning, sharpening the edges with each Primal source, gilding them with all the Power that a Paragon of the Startouch possesses, all the Power that a God-touched mage may hold.
Viren suddenly whips around, dodging the lightning, running far faster than anything mortal should ever be able to, and Aaravos cannot dodge—
"Aspiro!" a desperate voice cries, and the wind shoves Viren back, almost to the cliff's edge, leaving him gasping, bent double as he struggles to regain his footing.
Callum hurries to Aaravos's side.
"Are you alright, Alab?" Callum asks.
"I will be," Aaravos says, looking up, meeting Viren's gaze.
Viren is weary, Aaravos can see it in his frame, how his hands have begun to tremble despite the dark magic that courses through him as a river.
"Not yet," Viren rasps and a chill runs down Aaravos's spine when Viren's eyes drift to Callum, who stands, weaponless beside Aaravos.
Aaravos sees red, the sound of the world fading away to just the thrum of his heart in his ears, the protective rage that fills him.
Everything after seems to move in slow motion, inches at at time.
Viren, bringing up his staff, sending a wave of dark energy towards them both, Callum summoning a shield, one Aaravos recognizes as Sarai's, the symbol of the uneven towers bright gold against the polished crimson, his son ducking behind it, throwing a hasty Aspiro! after.
Viren stumbles back, and Aaravos summons his own spear, imbuing it with all the Power he possesses—the burning, purifying Light of the Morning Star.
This is a mercy, he thinks, and for a moment, Aaravos can see an expression of resignation and the briefest flicker of relief cross Viren's face; then the mage vanishes into the flame, ashes scattered to the four winds.
Above them, the storm spins itself out, vanishing into a hazy mist, the light of the sunset just fading over the horizon, the first stars winking into sight in the night sky.
"It's over?" Callum says, wide-eyed, sounding a little numb.
"Yes, my son," Aaravos says, wrapping an arm around him, "It is."
A/n: This has been slightly expanded and edited.