TOWER OF ORIGIN

"ARE YOU SAYING WE SHOULDN'T RESCUE SCORMETHEUS? DID HE REFUSE HELP? DOES HE ACTUALLY THINK HE CAN TAKE ON THE SAGE AND WIN?"

BASTIAN'S VOICE WAS SHARP AS HE RECOUNTED THE GRIM REALITY. "NO, WE CAN'T WIN. THE SAGE WAS THE MOST POWERFUL BEING A CENTURY AGO, AND HE'S ONLY GROWN STRONGER. HE'S A PURE SPELLCASTER, AND HIS STRENGTH INCREASES WITH EACH NEW DISCOVERY. THE ARTIFACTS, THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE, THOSE ARE RELICS OF HIS PAST. HE'S CREATED SO MUCH MORE SINCE THEN. FACING HIM HEAD-ON IS A DEATH SENTENCE."

HIS WORDS WERE HARSH, BUT HE WAS ONLY REPEATING WHAT SCORMETHEUS HAD TOLD THEM ALL ALONG. HE HAD INSISTED: NO RESCUES, NO FUTILE ATTEMPTS AT SALVATION. SCORMETHEUS KNEW WHAT AWAITED HIM.

"EVEN WITH REINFORCEMENTS, IT WOULDN'T MATTER. CHALLENGING A SAGE WITHOUT A FOOLPROOF PLAN IS LIKE FALLING INTO A BOTTOMLESS PIT," BASTIAN CONTINUED, HIS VOICE LOWERING. "NOT EVEN THE BRAM THE GREAT COULD STAND AGAINST HIM."

"THEN… CAN SCORMETHEUS ESCAPE?" SOMEONE ASKED QUIETLY.

BASTIAN SHOOK HIS HEAD. "NO. EACH ELVEN PRINCE IS BOUND TO THEIR ARTIFACT. HECAN LOCK ONTO ANY OF OUR SOULS. NO ONE SURPASSES HIM IN SPACE MAGIC. YOU CAN DELAY HIM, MAYBE, BUT ESCAPING? IT'S IMPOSSIBLE."

"THEN WHY… WHY IS SCORMETHEUS DOING THIS?" CAME THE INEVITABLE QUESTION. "HE KNEW THAT PROVOKING THE SAGE WOULD ENRAGE HIM. HE KNEW HE COULDN'T WIN. SO WHY WOULD HE, "

BASTIAN INTERRUPTED WITH A HEAVY SIGH. "SCORMETHEUS KNEW FROM THE START. HIS PLAN, OUR PLAN, HINGES ON HIS CAPTURE. DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM. HE'S BOUND TO HIS ARTIFACT, JUST LIKE THE REST OF US. AND AS MUCH AS MY FATHER MIGHT RAGE, HE ISN'T ENTIRELY HEARTLESS."

SHE COULDN'T HELP BUT RECALL THE CHILLING MEMORY OF THEIR LAST ENCOUNTER. THE SUBTLE TENSION IN SCORMETHEUS'S WORDS HAD LEFT A LASTING MARK ON HER.

"IF THEY CAN'T KILL HIM, AND THEY CAN'T LET HIM GO, WHAT CHOICE DO THEY HAVE?" SOMEONE ASKED, THEIR VOICE TREMBLING.

"IMPRISONMENT," BASTIAN REPLIED. "OR WORSE. SEALING HIM AWAY, MOST LIKELY IN SOME ISOLATED LOCATION, NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN. IT'S THE ONLY LOGICAL OUTCOME."

AT THAT MOMENT, SILENCE FELL. BASTIAN HAD RECEIVED THE FINAL SOUL COMMUNICATION FROM SCORMETHEUS. HE HAD LOST. HIS BEST HOPE NOW WAS ETERNAL IMPRISONMENT.

HE REMAINED QUIET AS HE REACHED INTO HIS SPACE BAG, HIS FINGERS BRUSHING AGAINST A COLD, UNASSUMING OBJECT, THE SOUL-ABSORBING CROWN. IT LOOKED PLAIN, INSIGNIFICANT EVEN. BUT ITS POWER WAS UNDENIABLE.

AND THEN HE REMEMBERED THAT LAST CONVERSATION BETWEEN SCORMETHEUS AND HIS FATHER. THERE HAD BEEN NO WARMTH LEFT BETWEEN THEM, ONLY COLD ACCUSATION.

MEANWHILE ON THE OTHER SIDE. THE SAGE HAD DEMANDED, HIS VOICE FULL OF WRATH. "YOU TRAITOROUS SON! TELL ME WHERE THE SOUL-ABSORBING CROWN IS! ONLY THE TRUE BLOOD OF THE ELVEN ROYAL FAMILY CAN USE IT. HAVE MY OWN CHILDREN BETRAYED ME? ARE THERE OTHERS WHO CONSPIRE AGAINST ME AND OUR RACE?" 

SCORMETHEUS HAD LAUGHED BITTERLY IN RESPONSE. "YOUR RACE? MY RACE? NO WONDER THEY SAY THE SAGE'S GREATEST ARROGANCE IS HIDDEN BENEATH HIS HUMILITY. DON'T WORRY, FATHER. YOUR 'WOODEN SONS' ARE TOO TERRIFIED TO BETRAY YOU. THEY WOULDN'T DARE MOVE UNLESS YOU WERE DEAD. BUT ARE YOU SO CERTAIN OF THE ROYAL BLOODLINE? ARE YOU SURE OF YOUR CHILDREN'S LOYALTIES?"

AT THE SAME TIME, BASTIAN TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND PLACED THE CROWN ON HIS HEAD.

"SOUL-ABSORBING CROWN," HE WHISPERED TO HIMSELF, "I AM READY TO BEAR THE WEIGHT OF IT ALL."

THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN STANDS AS THE MOST UNIQUE AND REVERED AMONG ALL DIVINE ARTIFACTS, ITS POWER AND SIGNIFICANCE UNMATCHED. IT IS NOT JUST A RELIC OF IMMENSE VALUE, BUT A KEYSTONE OF MULTIPLE REALMS OF AUTHORITY AND MAGIC. FORGED FROM THE PHILOSOPHER STONE, IT SERVES AS THE CENTRAL CONDUIT FOR CONTROLLING BOTH THE TOWER OF ORIGIN AND THE ALCHEMY TOWER, ACTING AS THE VERY SYMBOL OF THE ELVEN KINGSHIP. MORE THAN JUST A SYMBOL, HOWEVER, THE CROWN IS THE "KEY" TO UNLOCKING THE POTENTIAL OF OTHER ARTIFACTS, WIELDING THE EXTRAORDINARY ABILITY TO OVERRIDE ANY OTHER MIRACLES WHEN THE NEED ARISES.

AT ITS CORE, THOUGH, THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN'S PRIMARY POWER LIES IN ITS MASTERY OVER SOULS. IT CAN TRANSMUTE ORDINARY SOULS INTO SAGE STONES, DISTILLING INVISIBLE SPIRITUAL ENERGIES INTO TANGIBLE, CRYSTAL-LIKE FORMS. EVEN THE ALCHEMY TOWER, RENOWNED FOR DRAWING POWER FROM THE SOULS EMBEDDED DEEP WITHIN THE EARTH, DERIVES ITS STRENGTH FROM THIS VERY CROWN. YET, IT IS IMPERVIOUS TO DESTRUCTION OR CONCEALMENT BY ANY ORDINARY MEANS, AN ARTIFACT TOO POWERFUL TO BE UNDONE.

THE ELF PRINCES BELIEVE IT IS NOT MERELY AN OBJECT, BUT A LIVING ENTITY, INTRICATELY LINKED TO THE SAGE HIMSELF. LEGEND HAS IT THAT WHEN THE SAGE CREATED THE CROWN, HE INFUSED IT WITH A FRAGMENT OF HIS OWN SOUL. THIS EXPLAINS ITS UNCANNY ABILITY TO ABSORB SOULS, AND JUST AS EFFORTLESSLY, TO HOUSE THEM.

FROM ITS INCEPTION, THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN WAS DESIGNED TO BE THE ONLY EVOLUTIONARY ARTIFACT IN EXISTENCE. WITH EACH PASSING ELVEN KING, A NEW SOUL WAS EMBEDDED WITHIN IT UPON THEIR DEATH, AND THUS, EVERY KING WHO DONNED THE CROWN WOULD INHERIT THE ACCUMULATED WISDOM, KNOWLEDGE, AND MAGICAL PROWESS OF THEIR PREDECESSORS. OVER TIME, THE CROWN BECAME MORE THAN JUST A REGALIA, IT HELD THE ESSENCE OF ELVEN RULE. IT IS SAID THAT, WHEN FULLY FORMED, THE CROWN WILL GRANT ITS BEARER MASTERY OVER ALL FORMS OF MAGIC, FROM ARCANE KNOWLEDGE TO ARTISTIC INSIGHT, AN EMBODIMENT OF GENERATIONS OF ELVEN BRILLIANCE. AFTER FOUR OR FIVE GENERATIONS, THE WEARER COULD BECOME A WISE AND POWERFUL KING, CAPABLE OF DOMINATING THE WORLD.

THIS WAS THE REASON WHY EVERY ELVEN KING, UPON ASCENDING THE THRONE, BECAME THE MIGHTIEST AMONG THEIR KIND. IT IS THIS INHERITANCE, THIS SEEMINGLY UNBROKEN LINEAGE OF STRENGTH, THAT MADE THE IDEA OF THE ELVES EVER EXPERIENCING DECLINE INCONCEIVABLE.

"I NEVER IMAGINED," BASTIAN THOUGHT, RUNNING HIS FINGERS ACROSS THE COLD, SMOOTH SURFACE OF THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN, "THAT I, A HALF-ELF, WOULD BE PART OF SCORMETHEUS'S BACKUP PLAN."

AT THIS MOMENT, THE CROWN WAS STILL INCOMPLETE, ITS FULL POTENTIAL YET UNREALIZED. THE FINAL STAGE, KNOWN AS "SOUL-BINDING," HAD NOT YET BEEN COMPLETED. BUT EVEN IN ITS CURRENT FORM, IT WAS ALREADY A FORMIDABLE WEAPON AND A SYMBOL OF ELVEN ROYAL POWER. BASTIAN, DESPITE BEING ONLY A HALF-ELF, COULD WEAR THE CROWN BECAUSE OF ITS UNFINISHED STATE, A TWIST OF FATE FOR WHICH HE WAS BOTH GRATEFUL AND WARY.

THE ORIGINAL DESIGNER OF THE CROWN HAD DEVISED A FOOLPROOF SYSTEM, ENSURING THAT ONLY THOSE OF ELVEN ROYAL BLOOD COULD INHERIT AND WIELD ITS POWER. TO THOSE WHO CREATED IT, THIS SYSTEM SEEMED FLAWLESS. AMONG THE SECOND GENERATION OF ELF PRINCES, NONE BUT SCORMETHEUS DARED CHALLENGE THE SAGE'S AUTHORITY. AND EVEN BY THE TIME THE THIRD GENERATION TOOK THE THRONE, NO ONE WOULD OPPOSE THE SAGE'S WILL.

AS FOR BASTIAN'S PLACE IN THIS LINEAGE? HE WASN'T SURE HIMSELF. EVEN SCORMETHEUS COULDN'T TRACE IT PRECISELY. BUT ONE THING WAS CERTAIN: BASTIAN'S MOTHER HAD HELD A PROMINENT POSITION AMONG THE NORTHERN ELVES, HER BLOODLINE CONNECTED TO ROYALTY. ALTHOUGH DILUTED, HE CARRIED THE ROYAL BLOOD, AND IT MANIFESTED IN HIS CLAIRVOYANCE, THE GIFT THAT HAD MARKED HIM AS A SEER AND ATTRACTED SCORMETHEUS'S INTEREST. CLAIRVOYANCE WAS THE ELVEN ROYAL FAMILY'S GREATEST BLESSING, A GIFT THAT FORMED THE FOUNDATION OF ALCHEMY ITSELF, AND ITS INHERITANCE WAS DOMINANT WITHIN THEIR BLOODLINE.

ONLY AFTER BASTIAN'S CLAIRVOYANT ABILITIES SURFACED DID SCORMETHEUS'S ATTENTION SHIFT TOWARD HIM. IN THE EYES OF OTHER ELVEN TRIBES, THE SAGE REMAINED A GOD-LIKE FIGURE, UNTOUCHABLE AND UNQUESTIONED. TO EVEN THINK OF CHALLENGING SUCH DIVINITY WAS UNTHINKABLE. WITHOUT BASTIAN, SCORMETHEUS'S PLAN WOULD HAVE REMAINED NOTHING MORE THAN AN IDEA ON PARCHMENT.

BUT NOW, AS BASTIAN WORE THE SOUL-SUCKING CROWN, HE HELD WITHIN HIS HANDS THE "KEY" TO HIS OWN POTENTIAL KINGSHIP, A MANTLE HE NEVER SOUGHT BUT COULD NO LONGER AVOID.

"WHERE IS THE TOWER OF ORIGIN?" HE MURMURED, HIS MIND SWIRLING WITH UNCERTAINTIES. THE MULTIVERSE STRETCHED ENDLESSLY BEFORE HIM, WITH INFINITE WORLDS FLICKERING IN THE VOID. THE TOWER OF ORIGIN, HOWEVER, LAY HIDDEN IN A DIMENSION FAR BEYOND THE COMPREHENSION OF MOST CREATURES, A PLANE SO CLOSE TO THE PRIMARY WORLD YET COMPLETELY INACCESSIBLE.

HEREIN LAY HIS NEXT CHALLENGE: HE HAD THE KEY TO THE DOOR, BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW WHERE THE DOOR ITSELF WAS. THE PATH FORWARD REMAINED SHROUDED IN MYSTERY.

YES, HE SUCCEEDED. AFTER TRAVERSING THE ENDLESS VOID, BASTIAN HAD FOUND IT, THE ONE PLACE THAT TRULY MATTERED.

THE REASON? BECAUSE IN THAT MOMENT, BASTIAN RECEIVED A SIGNAL, A SIGNAL HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR, PATIENTLY, DESPERATELY. IT CAME FROM NONE OTHER THAN THE DEPOSED CROWN PRINCE, SCORMETHEUS. A WHISPER FROM THE VOID, FAINT BUT UNMISTAKABLE.

IT IS INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT TO COMPLETELY DESTROY AN ELF PRINCE WHO HAS BEEN BOUND TO A POWERFUL ARTIFACT. EVEN THE MOST RUTHLESS FORCES HESITATE, LIKE A TIGER THAT WON'T EAT ITS OWN CUBS. AND THOUGH SUCH A FEAT MIGHT BE POSSIBLE FOR A SAGE, EVEN THEY MIGHT FLINCH AT CARRYING IT OUT.

SEALING, HOWEVER, WAS THE MOST PROBABLE SOLUTION.

THE QUESTION NOW WAS SIMPLE: WHERE HAD SCORMETHEUS BEEN SEALED? HIS IMPORTANCE WAS UNDENIABLE. THERE WAS ONLY ONE PLACE THAT COULD SAFELY CONTAIN SOMEONE AS SIGNIFICANT AND DANGEROUS AS SCORMETHEUS: THE TOWER OF ORIGIN.

"IF I AM SEALED WITHIN THE TOWER OF ORIGIN, I WILL SEND YOU A SIGNAL," SCORMETHEUS HAD ONCE TOLD HIM. "A SIGNAL FROM THE VOID, SOMETHING THAT CAN GUIDE YOU TO ME."

THIS WAS THE TRUE CRUX OF THE PLAN. BUT IT WASN'T EVERYTHING.

NOW, WITH THE KEY IN HAND AND THE "TOWER OF ORIGIN" SENSED, BASTIAN KNEW HIS NEXT STEP: OPEN THE DOOR, A GATEWAY ACROSS THE DIMENSIONS THAT WOULD LEAD HIM TO THE OTHER SIDE. THE PATH HAD BEEN LAID BEFORE HIM.

IN HIS HANDS, HE HELD A MASSIVE QUANTITY OF PHILOSOPHER STONE, THE RAW MATERIAL OF ALCHEMY, A SUBSTANCE MORE PRECIOUS THAN ANY GOLD OR JEWEL. ONE BY ONE, THE STONES WERE CONSUMED IN FLAMES, REDUCED TO ASH.

AROUND HIM, THE SCENE BUZZED WITH ACTIVITY. A POWERFUL DRAGON SPELLCASTER CHANTED BESIDE HIM, THEIR VOICE RESONATING THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A DEEP HUM OF POWER. A DWARF MASTER CRAFTSMAN STOOD IN FRONT, HAMMERING AWAY FURIOUSLY AT ENCHANTED MATERIALS. MITHRIL, ONCE CONSIDERED PRICELESS, AND SOUL STEEL, IMBUED WITH THE ESSENCE OF SPIRITS, HAD BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN EXPENDABLES IN THIS GRAND RITUAL.

THE FINEST SPELLCASTERS FROM ACROSS THE LANDS HAD GATHERED TO LEND THEIR AID, WORKING TO STABILIZE THE DIMENSIONAL GATE THAT BASTIAN WOULD SOON OPEN.

"DID IT WORK?" SOMEONE ASKED, TENSION PALPABLE.

"ALMOST," CAME THE MEASURED RESPONSE.

AS THEY NEARED SUCCESS, THE ATMOSPHERE THICK WITH ANTICIPATION, BASTIAN MADE A SUDDEN MOVE. HE REACHED UP, REMOVED HIS HELMET, AND WITH IT, THE FINAL HUM OF THE SPELLCASTER'S INCANTATION CEASED. THE DWARF CONTINUED WORKING, SILENTLY HAMMERING AWAY AT THE GATE'S OUTER STRUCTURE, BUT THE MOMENTUM OF THE RITUAL SLOWED.

THE DOOR, THIS GATEWAY, WOULD NOT BE OPENED. NOT NOW. NOT YET.

"THIS ISN'T THE TIME," BASTIAN MURMURED, HIS EYES NARROWING IN THOUGHT. "THE SAGE IS LIKELY STILL INSIDE THE TOWER OF ORIGIN."

THERE WAS A PAUSE, A WEIGHT TO THE SILENCE.

"AT THE VERY LEAST, HE'LL WANT TO KNOW WHY SCORMETHEUS DID THIS AND HOW MUCH HE BETRAYED TO THE COALITION. ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN SCORMETHEUS WON'T SELL OUT EVEN MORE SECRETS?"

"THERE'S ONLY ONE CHANCE FOR AN ATTACK. WE CAN'T AFFORD TO STRIKE UNLESS WE KNOW THE SAGE IS ABSENT FROM THE TOWER OF ORIGIN."