CREATING A NEW DEAD ZONE.

THE SNOWY OWL REMAINED AS SILENT AS EVER, BUT THAT SILENCE SPOKE VOLUMES. IT HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR SOMEONE CAPABLE OF WIELDING THE FIRE. IT HAD SEARCHED FOR A LONG TIME, PERHAPS TOO LONG AND HAD NEARLY GIVEN UP HOPE.

BASTIAN SIGHED DEEPLY, RUBBING THE BACK OF HIS NECK. "EVEN IF WE SUCCEED IN BURNING THEM, THEY'LL JUST PRODUCE MORE."

"THE SOURCE TOWER," THE SNOWY OWL FINALLY SPOKE, HIS VOICE LOW AND STEADY. "IT HOUSES ALL THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONES. IT HAS BUILT-IN SELF-DESTRUCT MECHANISMS FOR THE ALCHEMY TOWERS. WE CAN'T CONTROL THEM PRECISELY, BUT WE CAN CUT THEM OFF FROM THE EARTH VEINS. IT'LL TAKE THEM A LONG TIME TO RECONNECT. LONG ENOUGH FOR US TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE."

"WHOSE STONES ARE WE BURNING? THE ELVES'? THE COALITION'S?" BASTIAN'S EYES NARROWED. "I'M A MEMBER OF THE COALITION. I'VE SEEN TOO MANY PEOPLE DIE IN THIS WAR, INNOCENT PEOPLE."

"THE ELVES," THE SNOWY OWL REPLIED WITHOUT HESITATION. "EVEN IF WE DESTROY THEIR STONES, THE OUTPUT OF YOUR COALITION IS STILL ONLY A FRACTION OF THEIRS. BURN THEIR STONES AT THE SOURCE TOWER, AND THE BALANCE WILL SHIFT. WHEN THEY'VE RUN OUT OF RESERVES, THEY'LL HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO COME TO THE TABLE FOR PEACE TALKS. AND IF THEY REFUSE..." THE OWL PAUSED, LETTING THE WEIGHT OF HIS WORDS SETTLE IN THE AIR. "THEN AT LEAST THE WAR WON'T DESTROY THE WORLD WITH IT."

BASTIAN SHOOK HIS HEAD, HIS EMOTIONS A WHIRLWIND OF HELPLESSNESS AND SORROW. IT WAS CLEAR NOW THAT THE SNOWY OWL HAD PLANNED THIS FOR SOME TIME, CAREFULLY ORCHESTRATING EVENTS TO LEAD TO THIS MOMENT. A PLAN WAS IN MOTION, AND BASTIAN COULD FEEL IT PULLING HIM ALONG, LIKE A LEAF CAUGHT IN THE RIVER'S CURRENT. BUT EVEN WITH THIS PLAN LAID BEFORE HIM, HE FOUND IT DIFFICULT TO SAY NO.

FINALLY, AFTER A LONG SILENCE, BASTIAN ASKED THE QUESTION THAT HAD BEEN NAGGING AT THE BACK OF HIS MIND.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" HIS VOICE WAS RAW, LADEN WITH SUSPICION. "BETRAYING YOUR OWN PEOPLE, YOUR RACE... WHY?"

THE SNOWY OWL'S ANSWER WOULD DETERMINE BASTIAN'S CHOICE. HE WAS NO LONGER LIVING FOR HIMSELF ALONE. IF HE WERE TO EMBARK ON THIS PATH OF BETRAYAL, ONE THAT COULD ALIENATE BOTH THE ELVES AND THE COALITION, HE NEEDED A REASON. A REASON HE COULD BELIEVE IN.

THE OWL SHIFTED, ITS FORM FLICKERING IN THE DIM LIGHT OF THE CAVERN. SLOWLY, IT BEGAN TO CHANGE. FEATHERS GAVE WAY TO SKIN, TALONS TURNED TO HANDS, AND IN MOMENTS, THE MAJESTIC CREATURE HAD TAKEN ON THE FORM OF AN ELF, A SHADOWY REFLECTION OF ITS TRUE SELF.

"IN ORDER TO DESTROY THIS CURSED TECHNOLOGY BEFORE IT BRINGS ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD," THE ELF SAID, HIS VOICE STEADY, BUT FILLED WITH CONVICTION. "SO THAT MY PEOPLE, AND YOURS, MIGHT SURVIVE."

BASTIAN'S MOUTH FELL OPEN IN SHOCK, DISBELIEF WRITTEN ACROSS HIS FACE. THE TRUTH HAD FINALLY BEEN REVEALED, AND IT WAS FAR MORE THAN HE HAD EVER EXPECTED. THE SNOWY OWL WAS NO MERE MESSENGER OR ALLY, IT HAD BEEN ONE OF THEM ALL ALONG, AN ELF, WHO HAD CHOSEN TO BETRAY HIS OWN KIND FOR THE SAKE OF SAVING THE WORLD.

IF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE TRULY IS A FONT OF INEXHAUSTIBLE ENERGY AND IS FUNDAMENTALLY BENIGN, THEN ITS CONVENTIONAL APPLICATIONS, POWERING SPELLCASTERS AND ANIMATING MAGICAL CONSTRUCTS, ARE AKIN TO TAPPING A VAST RESERVOIR WITH A MERE STRAW. THE ENERGY FLOWS, BUT THE IMPACT REMAINS AKIN TO THAT OF AGE-OLD WAR MACHINES, HARDLY MORE LETHAL THAN THE METHODS OF YORE.

YET, IMAGINE A DIVINE RELIC CAPABLE OF SEALING THE VERY "LAWS OF NATURE." THIS ARTIFACT WOULD NOT MERELY TRICKLE OUT ENERGY; IT WOULD UNLEASH IT WITH THE FORCE OF A NUCLEAR DETONATION, IRREVOCABLY ALTERING THE LANDSCAPE OF WARFARE. SUCH IS THE WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION THAT HERALDS A NEW ERA OF COMBAT.

AS THE ANCIENT ELVEN TONGUE WHISPERED THE OMINOUS PROPHECY, "WINTER IS COMING, AND EVERYTHING IS FROZEN. MORTALS, THE GOD OF WINTER HERALDS YOUR DOOM," THOSE UNVERSED IN THE LANGUAGE MIGHT LIKEN THE SOUNDS TO THE MELODIOUS CHIRPING OF BIRDS, YET THE WORDS BORE A CHILLING MALEVOLENCE.

SNOW BEGAN TO FALL, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A HARSH, UNRELENTING FROST, TRANSFORMING LANDSCAPES INTO A WINTRY TABLEAU. THIS SPECTACLE MIGHT BE MISTAKEN FOR A MERE SEASONAL SHIFT, IF NOT FOR THE INCONGRUITY OF ITS SETTING, A TROPICAL ISLAND IN THE SOUTHERN SEAS.

CENTERED ON A MYSTICAL ORB FLOATING IN THE HEAVENS, THE SNOW SPREAD FAR AND WIDE, TRANSFORMING THE SEA INTO SOLID ICE AT A BREATHTAKING PACE. THE EXPANSION WAS SO RAPID THAT IT OUTPACED EVEN THE SWIFTEST OF ESCAPEES.

MANY WHO FLED ABANDONED THEIR VESSELS, SWIMMING OR PADDLING DESPERATELY TOWARD REMOTE ISLETS, ONLY TO BE ENCASED IN THE ICY WATERS. AS THE COLD SNAP SUBSIDED, THE SEA WAS TRANSFORMED INTO A VAST ICY PLAIN, STUDDED WITH FROZEN WARSHIPS AND VESSELS. THE PETRIFIED FIGURES OF SAILORS AND SOLDIERS STOOD AS GRIM "ICE SCULPTURES," THEIR EXPRESSIONS OF DESPAIR AND FEAR ETCHED CLEARLY EVEN FROM AFAR.

"THE COALITION'S SECOND FLEET HAS MET ITS END," REPORTED THE OBSERVERS. "WITH THE LOSS OF THREE ENTIRE FLEETS, THE COALITION'S NAVAL MIGHT HAS EFFECTIVELY BEEN WIPED OUT."

DARYL, KNOWN AMONG HIS KIN AS THE "GOD OF WINTER SOLSTICE," WAS A DISCREET ELVEN PRINCE WHO RARELY SOUGHT THE SPOTLIGHT. YET, WITH MERE THREE STRIKES, HE OBLITERATED THE GREATEST THREAT TO HIS PEOPLE, THE COALITION FLEET ADVANCING ALONG THE COAST.

THE SURVIVORS OF THIS ICY APOCALYPSE WERE BUT A FEW SPECKS SCRAMBLING ACROSS THE SKY, HUMANOID DRAGONS AND OTHER AERIAL UNITS THAT NARROWLY ESCAPED THE FROZEN ONSLAUGHT.

DARYL CHOSE NOT TO PURSUE THE FLEEING REMNANTS. INSTEAD, HE DESCENDED GRACEFULLY, HIS MAGICAL CRYSTAL ORB, A SYMBOL OF WINTER'S DOMINION, FLOATING DOWN ALONGSIDE HIM. IT WAS AN EXQUISITE SPHERE, HOUSING A MINIATURE LANDSCAPE OF CLIFFS AND A SNOW-CAPPED CASTLE WHERE SNOWFALL NEVER CEASED.

UPON LANDING, DARYL COUGHED VIOLENTLY, EXPELLING A MOUTHFUL OF BLOOD THAT STAINED THE SACRED ARTIFACT. EVEN FOR HIM, UTILIZING SUCH A POWERFUL TOOL TO FREEZE AN ENTIRE SEA HAD TAKEN A SEVERE TOLL.

"THIS SACRIFICE WAS NECESSARY," HE MURMURED. "WITH NO FLEET TO DISRUPT OUR EFFORTS, ROOTING OUT OUR HIDDEN FOES WILL BE SIMPLER. WE NEEDN'T WORRY ABOUT BEING UNDERMINED JUST AS VICTORY IS WITHIN OUR GRASP."

TO ANNIHILATE THIS FINAL FLEET, DARYL HAD FORSAKEN HIS OWN FORCES AND PURSUED THEM THROUGH THE NIGHT. HIS ABILITIES, TYPICAL OF ELVEN SPELLCASTERS, WERE IDEALLY SUITED FOR SUCH A PURSUIT. ADEPT AT FLYING, THESE WIZARDS COULD CHASE DOWN ANY TARGET, EVEN ACROSS VAST OCEANS.

THOUGH HIS ARTIFACT WAS A FORMIDABLE TOOL FOR NAVAL WARFARE, ITS IMMENSE ENERGY DEMANDS WERE TAXING, ESPECIALLY AS DARYL HAD BEEN CONJURING NATURAL DISASTERS CONSECUTIVELY.

"NO MATTER HOW SLY THE PREY, IN THE END, THEY ARE MERELY RATS, SCURRYING FOR COVER," DARYL THOUGHT, A HINT OF TRIUMPH IN HIS TONE.

HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO STOW AWAY THE CRYSTAL BALL AND INSPECT THE FROZEN FLEET WHEN THE ICE BEGAN TO TREMBLE OMINOUSLY.

SUDDENLY, A BUBBLE BURST THROUGH THE THICK LAYER OF ICE, SHATTERING THE FRIGID SILENCE WITH A RESOUNDING "PUFF!" THE FROZEN SEA, MOMENTS BEFORE A PICTURE OF STILLNESS, NOW HINTED AT A NEW, UNEXPECTED CHANGE.

AT THAT CRITICAL MOMENT, THE SEA TRANSFORMED DRAMATICALLY. BOILING WATERS SURGED UPWARD, FORMING TOWERING COLUMNS THAT SHATTERED THE ICY COVER IN EXPLOSIVE BURSTS. THE SEA ITSELF WAS BOILING.

WITHIN MERE SECONDS, A SUPERHEATED SOURCE BENEATH THE OCEAN'S SURFACE ERUPTED, DIRECTLY TURNING THE WATER AROUND DARYL INTO STEAM. FROM THE DEPTHS, A VOICE THUNDERED, FULL OF MALICE AND EXULTATION, SPEAKING IN THE STRANGE, UNDULATING CADENCE OF THE DRAGON TONGUE, "HA, I AM THE END OF THE WORLD, I AM THE VOLCANO, I AM THE SUN THAT BURNS EVERYTHING!"

"LITTLE ELF, YOU CAN HIDE, BUT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE!" THE VOICE MOCKED.

AS THESE WORDS ECHOED, A MASSIVE DRAGON'S MAW BROKE THE SURFACE, ENGULFING SHIPS AND SOLDIERS ALIKE. THE OCEAN AROUND IT TRANSFORMED INTO A FIERY MAELSTROM, AND VOLCANOES ERUPTED, REPLACING THE ICY GRIP OF WINTER WITH SCORCHING FURY.

LEMMILIS, A KEY FIGURE IN THE COALITION, HAD ORCHESTRATED THIS AMBUSH. HIS WEAPON, THE "RAGE OF THE EARTH DRAGON," CLASHED DIRECTLY WITH DARYL'S "WINTER SOLSTICE CITY-STATE." THE ARTIFACTS, EMBODYING OPPOSING NATURAL FORCES, MET IN A CATACLYSMIC ENCOUNTER. FRESH FROM BATTLE, DARYL, ALREADY WEAKENED, FOUND HIMSELF OVERMATCHED BY THE FULLY PREPARED LEMMILIS.

THE FRIGID COLD WAS SOON OVERWHELMED BY RELENTLESS HEAT. DARYL, ENSCONCED WITHIN HIS CRYSTAL ARTIFACT, BECAME A TRAGIC FIGURE, BLOODIED AND BEATEN. HIS LAST WORDS WERE LOST AS THE DRAGON SWALLOWED HIM WHOLE.

THE NOW-MASTERLESS "WINTER SOLSTICE CITY-STATE" ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE, ONLY TO BE SNARED IN THE DRAGON'S TALONS.

DID LEMMILIS TRULY WIN? AMIDST THE REMNANTS OF THE FROZEN FLEET, HIS FACE REVEALED NOT TRIUMPH, BUT SORROW AND RESIGNATION. "THIS IS WAR," HE MURMURED, A JUSTIFICATION AND A LIE HE TOLD HIMSELF TO KEEP GOING. WITH A HEAVY HEART, HE SPREAD HIS WINGS AND DEPARTED FOR THE NEXT BATTLEFRONT, TAKING THE "WINTER SOLSTICE CITY-STATE" WITH HIM.

THE VICTORY ALLOWED HIM A STRATEGIC ADVANTAGE, BUT IT ALSO HIGHLIGHTED THE GRIM REALITY: IN THIS WAR, THE MIGHTY ELVEN GODS WERE ISOLATED TARGETS, EASILY AMBUSHED BY COALITION LEADERS. IN THIS ENDLESS GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE, THE HUNTER COULD QUICKLY BECOME THE HUNTED.

THE TOLL WAS HEAVY ON BOTH SIDES, WITH COUNTLESS LIVES LOST FROM EVERY RANK. YET, THE BROADER DEVASTATION WAS TO THE WORLD ITSELF, A FACT UNNOTICED BY THE COMBATANTS. THE CLASH OF INTENSE COLD AND SCORCHING HEAT, COMBINED WITH ONGOING VOLCANIC ERUPTIONS, RENDERED VAST SWATHES OF THE OCEAN LIFELESS, CREATING A NEW DEAD ZONE.

THESE CATASTROPHIC EVENTS WERE NOT ISOLATED BUT PART OF A LARGER, ONGOING DEVASTATION AS THE WARRING FACTIONS DESTROYED EACH OTHER AND THE VERY EARTH THAT SUSTAINED THEM.

"YOU SEE, WE HAVE NO CHOICE," A VOICE BROKE THE SILENCE AT A DESOLATE BATTLEFIELD WHERE SURVIVAL SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE.