The Wise One gazed into the emptiness within the sheer volume of the Sphere. What did he do next? More than half of his entire race had been decimated within a day. He knew the Sphere and the Books contained powers similiar to his, and he also knew they could store anything.
He had read the books over and over again, but it seemed to him there were parts missing. The Books spoke of his race, the Ancients, and other races: the Sentinels, the Sentients, the Architects, or Engineers, and the Elementals. Other races had been moved, but he saw mentions of a race known as Oblivions.
There was fragments of a myth that this world had once been verdant, that the forests had been alive, and that there was a twin planet, called Earth. Or in the Oblivion's language, Thrae. The Wise One stopped as he took in those words. A word in the language of our oppressors. The Books contained too much. He put them aside and turned his attention on the Sphere.
He could notget into it, but he felt an essence pulling at him, telling him to place his trust, and his powers into it.
Hours later, the Wise One decided what he had to do. There were no other options remaining, this was the road he had to take. If he did not find a way to stop the hordes, they would all be hunted to the edge of the end. He could not allow the scattered fragments of his race to face extinction.
He spoke to the three Ancients confidentially. "This is the choice I have made. Empyrean, you are tasked with taking the first Book to the first of the Castles." Empyrean nodded assent, but said nothing. The light came down on him from above, deepening the shadows of his face. "Sigil, you must take the other Book to the second Castle." Sigil looked up, stringing his bow, and said, "I will do as you command, Wise One." The Wise One acknowledged with a nod.
He turned to Yusai, the swordsman, at last. "Yusai, you must direct the people to the East Shores. They must leave this continent at once. Go with them." "You know I cannot go back. I do not wish to travel to Unukit again. The people there will make me an outsider. My place is here, I am one of you." Yusai said forcefully. The Wise One looked at Yusai closely and carefully. Yusai had the exact same shade of eye colour as the Wise One.
"Very well." The Wise One said, feeling respect for Yusai's sense of belonging. "I trust you all with my life. These are our darkest days, and I cannot promise any of us will ever see sunlight again. But one day we will reclaim this place and wreak vengeance upon the disease. For now, our only hope in this solitude is that Earth is safe." "Earth?" Sigil said, shifting slightly. "This reality has a twin, but I do not know of a way to get there."
All three Ancients seemed to fade into a moment of reverie. "Did any of our ancestors get there?" Empyrean asked. The Wise One shook his head. "I know not, the Books did not speak of this. But whatever happens, we must do what we must do. Whether it prevents the Darkness spreading further or eliminates it." They all nodded, knowing this could be the last time they ever spoke to each other.
The Wise One heard the far away sounds of fighting, of the Ancients fighting their way to the East Shore. How many had survived? He kept walking, the sword gleaming dully on his back. He hoped that Empyrean would get to the first Castle. He hoped that Sigil and Locksley would make it to the second Castle. But hope had died within him.
Hope is a thing worth reaching for.
The Wise One stopped for a moment. Someone had said that to him a long time ago. But what was wort reaching for? Purpose, success? Hope. The Wise One pushed these thoughts away and walked on.
Already he could feel everything slowing down. His footsteps, his breathing, the chill around him, taking its time to permeate through his armour and skin. Life was slowing down. If he did not contain the problem, the Unchained would bring the Void through the Gates. The Void would encase the world in a shell of night, suffocating even the winter. There, in the darkness, the true evil would form. One capable of devouring Time, Space, Eternity.
The Wise One faced a problem. A massive rock-face. He jumped onto the nearly flat surface, digging his hands into the rock as if it was liquid, and started to climb, his fingers becoming raw from the rough surface. His hands were scarred and blood welled out of them. His armour and skin was soaked in the blood of both himself and the Beings.
What seemed like an age later, he reached the top, pulling himself onto a ledge. Stood in front of him, in all its majesty, was the Third Castle, bastions and towers looming over the landscape.
He craned his neck to look up at the ruins of stairs he had to climb, into the tomb. As he ascended it, the stairs broke away behind him. No one was leaving.
He dropped onto a parapet, and walked across an intricate stone bridge towards the central tower. Beneath him was the open maw of the void, vast and all-encompassing. Somehow it did not seem to bother him; the darkness gave him solace.
His piercing light brown eyes rested on what he regarded to be his tomb. It would also be theirs. The Wise One stopped in the archway to the Altar Room, and turned to survey the scene behind him, and beyond the walls. The ramparts were empty of life. His sword felt dead in his grip, and even his grip felt dead.
Snow had begun to descend again, and the sky was grey, as it always would be. Pillars of smoke rose into the heavens. The far-off sounds of fighting had ceased and now he could hear a slight ambience. Almost like whispers...
Why had the evil so hastily departed from this place?
With this, he turned back and entered the Altar Room.