THE CRIMSON WINE SWIRLED GENTLY IN THE SIMPLE WOODEN CUP, ITS SURFACE GLEAMING WITH A BLOOD-LIKE SHEEN THAT SENT A SUBTLE CHILL DOWN THE SPINE. THERE WAS SOMETHING UNSETTLING ABOUT IT, A WHISPER OF DANGER MINGLED WITH ALLURE. YET, AS ONE LEANED IN CLOSER, THE INTOXICATING AROMA ENVELOPED THE SENSES, RICH AND INVITING, MAKING IT IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST.
BASTIAN SWALLOWED HARD, HIS MOUTH WATERING DESPITE HIS UNEASE. HE COULDN'T HELP HIMSELF. LIFTING THE CUP TO HIS LIPS, HE TOOK ANOTHER GENEROUS GULP. THE WARM LIQUID CASCADED DOWN HIS THROAT, IGNITING A FIRE THAT SPREAD THROUGH HIS ENTIRE BEING. HE MARVELED AT THE SENSATION; AS A SPIRIT, SUCH PHYSICAL PLEASURES WERE RARE. WHAT KIND OF MAGICAL BREW WAS THIS, CAPABLE OF AFFECTING EVEN THE ETHEREAL? HIS SOUL FELT MORE SUBSTANTIAL WITH EACH SIP, MORE ANCHORED, A SURE SIGN THAT THIS WAS NO ORDINARY WINE.
"WHO IS THAT MAN?" HE MURMURED, HIS GAZE DRIFTING TO THE FIGURE BEHIND THE BAR.
THE BARTENDER MOVED WITH A PRACTICED GRACE, PATIENTLY POLISHING GLASSES THAT GLEAMED UNDER THE DIM LIGHT. DUST NO LONGER CLUNG TO THEM, YET HE CONTINUED WIPING AS IF PERFORMING A SACRED RITUAL. HE SEEMED INDIFFERENT TO EVERYTHING AROUND HIM, EYES FOCUSED SOLELY ON HIS TASK. BUT BASTIAN SENSED OTHERWISE. DEEP DOWN, HE KNEW THE MAN SAW EVERYTHING UNFOLDING IN THE ROOM YET CHOSE NOT TO INTERFERE.
"KID," A DEEP VOICE BROKE THROUGH HIS THOUGHTS. "I KNOW WHAT YOU SEEK AND WHAT YOU AIM TO DO. I EVEN KNOW WHO HOLDS THE ANSWERS YOU DESIRE. BUT TELL ME, WHY SHOULD I HELP YOU?"
BASTIAN TURNED TO FIND THE SOURCE OF THE VOICE. NEXT TO HIM, A SNOWY OWL PERCHED GRACEFULLY, DIPPING ITS BEAK INTO A TINY CUP OF THE CRIMSON WINE. ITS WHITE FEATHERS CONTRASTED SHARPLY WITH THE DARK WOOD OF THE BAR, AND ITS GOLDEN EYES GLINTED WITH INTELLIGENCE.
"DIDN'T YOU LEAD ME HERE?" BASTIAN ASKED, ARCHING AN EYEBROW AT THE OWL. "OR PERHAPS OUR GOALS ALIGN."
THE OWL LET OUT A SOFT CHUCKLE. "YOU'RE SHARPER THAN YOU LOOK," IT REPLIED. "INDEED, I SHOULDN'T BE SHARING THESE SECRETS WITH YOU. BUT SINCE YOU'VE COME THIS FAR, PERHAPS YOU'RE READY TO LEARN THE TRUTH."
THE SNOWY OWL HAD ALWAYS BEEN A CHATTERBOX. EVER SINCE IT HAD DECIDED TO NESTLE IN BASTIAN'S BACKPACK, IT HAD FILLED THE SILENCE WITH ENDLESS PRATTLE, MUCH TO HIS ANNOYANCE. BUT NOW, ITS DEMEANOR SHIFTED. THE OWL FELL STRANGELY SILENT, ITS EYES REFLECTING A DEPTH BASTIAN HADN'T NOTICED BEFORE.
AFTER A LONG PAUSE, IT SPOKE SOFTLY. "YOU KNOW, THE WORLD IS DYING."
BASTIAN BLINKED, TAKEN ABACK. "DYING? YOU MEAN THE ELVES WAGING WAR, DESTROYING OTHER RACES, WREAKING HAVOC ON THE LAND?"
"NO," THE OWL SHOOK ITS HEAD. "IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE. I MEAN IT QUITE LITERALLY. THE WAR IS MERELY A SYMPTOM. THE REAL ISSUE IS THAT THE WORLD CAN NO LONGER BEAR THE DAMAGE INFLICTED UPON IT."
THE OWL'S WORDS HUNG HEAVY IN THE AIR. BASTIAN LEANED BACK, SKEPTICISM CLOUDING HIS FEATURES. "THE WORLD ENDING? DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL?" HE THOUGHT. "EVEN IF EVERY CREATURE PERISHED, THE WORLD ITSELF WOULD CONTINUE SPINNING AS ALWAYS."
NOTICING BASTIAN'S DOUBTFUL EXPRESSION, THE SNOWY OWL SIGHED, A SURPRISINGLY HUMAN GESTURE. "SOME TRUTHS ARE HARD TO ACCEPT," IT SAID GENTLY. "BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE THEM ANY LESS REAL."
"SOLESIA," THE OWL SUDDENLY DECLARED, ITS GOLDEN EYES LOCKING ONTO HIS.
BASTIAN'S SMIRK FADED INSTANTLY. MEMORIES HE'D FOUGHT HARD TO SUPPRESS SURGED FORWARD, FACES AND PLACES FROM THE NORTH, ECHOES OF LAUGHTER AND SORROW. WOUNDS HE'D RATHER LEAVE UNTOUCHED.
"AH, SO YOU DO REMEMBER," THE OWL OBSERVED. "THAT'S THE KEY TO ALL OF THIS. NOW, HOW SHOULD I EXPLAIN?"
THE OWL SEEMED TO PONDER FOR A MOMENT BEFORE NODDING DECISIVELY. SPREADING ITS WINGS, IT GENTLY TOUCHED THE GLASS ON THE TABLE WITH THE TIP OF A FEATHER.
TO BASTIAN'S ASTONISHMENT, THE GLASS BEGAN TO SHIMMER AND WARP. IT MELTED SEAMLESSLY INTO A LONG, SLENDER GLASS TUBE UNDER THE OWL'S CONTROL. THEN, WITH A TAP ON BASTIAN'S WINE CUP AND MUCH TO HIS DISMAY, IT TOO TRANSFORMED, FLOWING LIKE LIQUID INTO ANOTHER GLASS TUBE.
WITH A GRACEFUL MOTION, THE OWL CONNECTED THE TWO TUBES END TO END, FORMING A PERFECT CIRCLE THAT HOVERED IN THE AIR BETWEEN THEM.
"YOU'VE SEEN THE RIVER OF SOULS, HAVEN'T YOU?" THE OWL ASKED, EYES REFLECTING THE SWIRLING LIQUID WITHIN THE GLASS RING. "YOU WERE BATHING IN IT NOT LONG AGO."
INSIDE THE TRANSPARENT CIRCLE, THE CRIMSON WINE FLOWED ENDLESSLY, MOVING IN A CONTINUOUS LOOP. BASTIAN WATCHED, MESMERIZED YET PUZZLED.
"THIS REPRESENTS REINCARNATION," THE OWL EXPLAINED. "AN ENDLESS CYCLE, LIFE FEEDING INTO DEATH AND BACK INTO LIFE AGAIN. IT CONTINUES UNBROKEN, SUSTAINING THE BALANCE OF OUR WORLD. BUT WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SOMEONE INTERFERES."
A FROSTY MIST EMANATED FROM THE OWL'S WINGS, ENVELOPING THE GLASS RING. ICE CRYSTALS FORMED ALONG THE SURFACE, SPREADING RAPIDLY. THE FLOWING WINE BEGAN TO SLOW, HINDERED BY THE ENCROACHING COLD. EVENTUALLY, ICE CLOGGED THE TUBE ENTIRELY, AND THE ONCE-SMOOTH CURRENT CAME TO A HALT.
"DO YOU SEE?" THE OWL SAID GRAVELY. "THE FLOW IS OBSTRUCTED. THE CYCLE IS DISRUPTED. IF THIS CONTINUES, THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE CATASTROPHIC."
BASTIAN STARED AT THE FROZEN RING, A KNOT FORMING IN HIS STOMACH. "ARE YOU SAYING THIS IS WHAT'S HAPPENING TO OUR WORLD?"
"PRECISELY," THE OWL NODDED. "FORCES ARE AT WORK THAT ARE DISRUPTING THE NATURAL ORDER. THE WAR, THE DESTRUCTION, THEY'RE SYMPTOMS OF A DEEPER MALAISE."
"BUT WHY TELL ME THIS?" BASTIAN DEMANDED, FRUSTRATION CREEPING INTO HIS VOICE. "WHAT CAN I POSSIBLY DO?"
"BECAUSE YOU, BASTIAN, ARE NOT JUST A BYSTANDER," THE OWL REPLIED, ITS GAZE PIERCING. "YOU HAVE A ROLE TO PLAY; A CRUCIAL ONE. YOUR FORGOTTEN MEMORIES HOLD THE KEY."
HE CLENCHED HIS FISTS, TORN BETWEEN DISBELIEF AND A GNAWING SENSE OF URGENCY. COULD THE OWL BE RIGHT? WAS THERE MORE AT STAKE THAN HE EVER IMAGINED?
THE BARTENDER CLEARED HIS THROAT, DRAWING THEIR ATTENTION. FOR THE FIRST TIME, HE LOOKED UP, MEETING BASTIAN'S EYES. THEY WERE ANCIENT EYES, FILLED WITH WISDOM AND SORROW. "LISTEN TO HIM," THE BARTENDER SAID QUIETLY. "TIME IS RUNNING OUT."
BASTIAN GLANCED BETWEEN THE BARTENDER AND THE OWL, HIS MIND RACING. THE WEIGHT OF THEIR WORDS PRESSED UPON HIM LIKE A HEAVY CLOAK. FINALLY, HE TOOK A DEEP BREATH. "ALRIGHT," HE SAID SLOWLY. "TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO."
THE OWL'S EYES SOFTENED. "FIRST, WE MUST JOURNEY TO THE NORTHERN REALMS," IT SAID. "THERE, YOU'LL FIND WHAT WAS LOST AND PERHAPS, SAVE WHAT REMAINS."
A HEAVY SILENCE SETTLED OVER THEM. BASTIAN KNEW THAT SETTING FOOT IN THE NORTH MEANT FACING THE VERY MEMORIES HE'D TRIED SO HARD TO FORGET. BUT IF THE WORLD WAS TRULY AT STAKE, COULD HE AFFORD TO LET THE PAST BIND HIM?
"FINE," HE AGREED, RESOLVE HARDENING HIS VOICE. "WE'LL GO TO THE NORTH. BUT YOU BETTER HAVE ANSWERS."
THE OWL NODDED APPRECIATIVELY. "TOGETHER, WE'LL UNCOVER THE TRUTH. AND PERHAPS, JUST PERHAPS, WE CAN MEND WHAT'S BEEN BROKEN."
AS THEY PREPARED TO LEAVE, THE BARTENDER RESUMED HIS SILENT POLISHING, A FAINT SMILE PLAYING ON HIS LIPS. BASTIAN CAUGHT HIS EYE ONCE MORE. "THANK YOU," HE SAID, UNSURE OF WHAT ELSE TO OFFER.
"SAFE TRAVELS," THE BARTENDER REPLIED SOFTLY. "MAY YOU FIND THE ANSWERS YOU SEEK."
STEPPING OUT OF THE DIMLY LIT TAVERN, BASTIAN FELT THE WEIGHT OF HIS NEW QUEST SETTLING UPON HIM. THE SNOWY OWL PERCHED ON HIS SHOULDER, ITS PRESENCE ODDLY COMFORTING.
"READY?" THE OWL ASKED.
"AS I'LL EVER BE," BASTIAN REPLIED, STARING INTO THE HORIZON WHERE THE FIRST HINTS OF DAWN BEGAN TO EMERGE.
TOGETHER, THEY SET OFF TOWARD THE UNKNOWN, CARRYING THE FRAGILE HOPE THAT THEY MIGHT JUST SAVE THEIR DYING WORLD.
"SOMEONE HIJACKED PART OF THE 'WATER' AND TRANSFORMED IT INTO SOMETHING ELSE, WHETHER IT'S 'ICE' OR SOME KIND OF 'SOLID WATER,' THE RESULT IS THE SAME: THE FLOW DIMINISHES. EACH NEW CYCLE WILL SEE LESS AND LESS WATER MOVING THROUGH."
BASTIAN SHOT UP FROM HIS SEAT, A COLD REALIZATION CRASHING OVER HIM. AT LAST, HE UNDERSTOOD.
COMPARED TO THE TRUE CATASTROPHE UNFOLDING, THE DANGER OF SOLESIA SEEMED LIKE A TRIVIAL INCONVENIENCE.
"YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT THE NEWBORNS, AREN'T YOU?" HIS VOICE TREMBLED WITH THE WEIGHT OF THE REVELATION.
"YOU'VE SEEN IT YOURSELF," THE OWL REPLIED CALMLY. "MORE AND MORE CHILDREN ARE BEING BORN WITHOUT SOULS. THE NORTH IS VAST, BUT SPARSELY POPULATED, WHEN SOULS ARE SIPHONED OFF FROM THERE, THE DAMAGE BECOMES PAINFULLY OBVIOUS. IT WON'T BE LONG BEFORE THIS CURSE SPREADS ACROSS ALL RACES, CAUSING A MASSIVE DECLINE IN BIRTHS. THERE WILL BE SOUL-STEALERS, THOSE WHOSE SOULS HAVE WITHERED, PEOPLE WANDERING IN A DAZE, AND OTHERS DRIVEN TO MADNESS. WHEN THAT DAY COMES, NORMAL BIRTHS WILL BE SO RARE THAT NEWBORNS WILL BECOME PRIZED, TREASURES FOR WHICH ENTIRE RACES WILL FIGHT, JUST TO SURVIVE."