"THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHAT IS THIS?" BASTIAN'S VOICE WAS GROGGY AS HE STIRRED AWAKE, BLINKING AT THE STRANGE OBJECT ON THE TABLE.
BEFORE HIM LAY A LIGHT GOLDEN STONE, SHAPED LIKE A SMALL TOWER. BUT THE TOP OF THE STONE WAS PARTIALLY MELTED, OR PERHAPS, WORN AWAY BY USE.
"IT'S THE PRODUCT OF SOLIDIFYING SOULS. THE EMBODIMENT OF INFINITE MAGICAL POWER. IT'S THE TRUTH YOU'VE BEEN SEEKING. THAT SMALL PIECE ALONE HOLDS THE WEIGHT OF TENS OF THOUSANDS OF SOULS."
BASTIAN INHALED SHARPLY, STARING AT THE STONE IN DISBELIEF. SO MANY SOULS TRAPPED IN SOMETHING SO SMALL?
AS THE WEIGHT OF IT SETTLED ON HIM, THE HORROR OF THE SITUATION BECAME CLEARER. HIS EYES WIDENED WITH THE REALIZATION. "WAIT… SO THE ELVES USED THE ALCHEMY TOWER TO CREATE THE PHILOSOPHER STONE?"
"YES, BUT THE ALCHEMY TOWER ONLY PERFORMS THE ROUGH WORK. WHAT IT PRODUCES IS NOTHING MORE THAN RAW ORE. WHILE THESE ROUGH STONES CAN STILL BE USED, THEIR EFFECT PALES IN COMPARISON TO A TRUE PHILOSOPHER STONE. IT MUST BE SENT TO A 'SAGE' FOR FURTHER REFINEMENT BEFORE IT CAN BECOME A REAL WONDER, A PERFECT MAGIC CRYSTAL."
BASTIAN'S MIND RACED. "BUT... CAN MORTALS REALLY HARM SOULS LIKE THAT? MAGIC CAN'T USUALLY TOUCH THE ESSENCE OF SOULS, LET ALONE MANIPULATE THEM."
THE OWL'S VOICE WAS STEADY AS HE CONTINUED, "TRUE. MAGIC ALONE IS POWERLESS AGAINST SUCH SOUL GATHERINGS. IF IT WEREN'T SO RARE, A STONE LIKE THIS COULD EVEN BE MADE INTO ARMOR; INDESTRUCTIBLE, IMPERVIOUS TO WEAPONS OF ANY KIND. IN FACT, THOSE WITH THE MEANS HAVE ALREADY CREATED SUCH ARMOR FROM CRYSTALLIZED SOULS."
THE WORDS BLURRED TOGETHER FOR BASTIAN. HIS HEAD SPUN, BARELY GRASPING THE ENORMITY OF WHAT WAS BEING SAID. AND YET, SOMEWHERE IN THE FOG OF CONFUSION, HE BEGAN TO UNDERSTAND WHY THE FIRE OF DEATH WAS NEEDED.
THE SNOWY OWL GAVE A SLIGHT NOD, WATCHING HIM CLOSELY. "YES, YOU'RE BEGINNING TO GET IT. NOW, BURN IT. LET THE SOLID TURN BACK INTO LIQUID, OR EVEN GAS. ONLY THEN CAN THE LAWS OF NATURE FLOW AGAIN."
BASTIAN HESITATED, THE WEIGHT OF HIS UNDERSTANDING PRESSING DOWN ON HIM. HE FINALLY SAW WHY HE HAD TO FUSE WITH THE FIRE OF DEATH. ONLY THOSE FLAMES, WHICH COULD BURN THE SOUL ITSELF, HAD THE POWER TO MELT THE PHILOSOPHER STONE, THE CRYSTALLIZATION OF COUNTLESS SOULS.
IT WAS NO LONGER A QUESTION OF CHOICE. THE PATH AHEAD OF HIM WAS CLEAR, THOUGH FILLED WITH FLAMES AND PERIL.
BASTIAN EXTENDED HIS HAND, HIS HEART RACING. HE FOCUSED, TAPPING INTO THE DRAGON FIRE DEEP WITHIN HIM, TRYING TO MERGE THAT INSTINCTUAL POWER WITH THE FLAMES OF DEATH SWIRLING AT HIS FINGERTIPS. THE PALE BLUE FLAME SPARKED TO LIFE, COILING AROUND HIS FINGERS LIKE A LIVING THING.
AS HE MOVED CLOSER TO THE PHILOSOPHER STONE, SOMETHING EXTRAORDINARY HAPPENED. WITHOUT ANY FORCE, THE STONE BEGAN TO MELT, ITS SOLID FORM DISSOLVING INTO SHIMMERING DROPS OF GOLDEN LIQUID, WHICH POOLED ON THE TABLE. THE NEXT MOMENT, THEY STARTED EVAPORATING RAPIDLY, TURNING INTO A MIST THAT SWIRLED AROUND THE ROOM.
JUST AS THE GOLDEN VAPOR FILLED THE AIR, TURNING THE ONCE DIM BAR INTO A HAUNTED DEN OF PHANTOMS, THERE WAS A SUDDEN TEAR IN THE FABRIC OF SPACE. A CRACK APPEARED, SPLITTING THE AIR OPEN. OUT OF THE MIST, COUNTLESS GHOSTS EMERGED, THEIR EYES WIDE WITH LONGING AS THEY RUSHED TOWARD THE OPENING WITH AN ALMOST JOYOUS DESPERATION.
THE PULL OF THE STYX WAS IRRESISTIBLE, CALLING THEM HOME, TO THE PLACE WHERE LOST SOULS BELONGED.
"IT'S DONE!" SNOWY OWL EXCLAIMED, HIS VOICE CRACKING WITH EXHILARATION. HE LEAPED ONTO THE TABLE AND, TO BASTIAN'S ASTONISHMENT, BEGAN PERFORMING AN ODD, ERRATIC DANCE, SOMETHING THAT LOOKED LIKE ANCIENT COURT STEPS.
FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, THE SOLEMN OWL SEEMED ALMOST CHILDISH IN HIS JOY, UNTIL A GLANCE FROM BEHIND THE BAR SOBERED HIM INSTANTLY. HE CLEARED HIS THROAT, HOPPING BACK DOWN.
"AHEM, BASTIAN, THE NEXT STEP IS EVEN SIMPLER. WE NEED TO FIND THE ELVES' ENTIRE RESERVE OF THE PHILOSOPHER STONEAND BURN IT. EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM!"
BASTIAN BLINKED, STILL PROCESSING THE STRANGE TURN OF EVENTS. "BURN ALL OF IT? BUT WHERE ARE THEY STORED? ISN'T THAT THE ELVES' MOST GUARDED SECRET? DO YOU ACTUALLY KNOW WHERE?"
HE NARROWED HIS EYES, SUDDENLY SUSPICIOUS. IF THE OWL HAD THIS KIND OF KNOWLEDGE, IT WOULD RAISE MORE QUESTIONS THAN IT ANSWERED.
"OF COURSE I DON'T KNOW!" SNOWY OWL SCOFFED, WAVING HIS WINGS DISMISSIVELY. "BUT THERE ARE ELVES WHO DO. FOR INSTANCE, THE 'SAGE,' HIS SONS, AND THE LEADERS OF THE ELVES."
BASTIAN FELT A CHILL RUN THROUGH HIM AT THE MENTION OF THE SAGE. HE HAD HEARD ABOUT THEM. AS THE WAR DRAGGED ON, THE SAGE AND HIS FIFTY-TWO SONS HAD CLAIMED DIVINE STATUS, PROCLAIMING THEMSELVES GODS. BUT THE TRUTH BEHIND THEIR POWER SEEMED FAR LESS DIVINE, AND FAR MORE TERRIFYING.
"SO WE'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO WALTZ UP AND ASK THEM? THIS SOUNDS LIKE A WASTE OF TIME," BASTIAN MUTTERED, CROSSING HIS ARMS.
SNOWY OWL'S EYES GLEAMED WITH SLY AMUSEMENT. "MOST OF THEM WOULD NEVER TELL US, OF COURSE. BUT HAVEN'T YOU HEARD? THE FIRST SAGE, SCORMETHEUSMITHUS, RECENTLY FELL OUT OF FAVOR. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE SUCCESSOR, BUT HIS TITLE WAS STRIPPED FROM HIM. NOW, RUMOR HAS IT HE SPENDS HIS DAYS DRINKING HIMSELF INTO A STUPOR. HE'S A DRUNKARD AND A WOMANIZER. ONCE AN ELF DRINKS TOO MUCH..."
SNOWY OWL LET THE SENTENCE HANG IN THE AIR, A MISCHIEVOUS GRIN TUGGING AT HIS BEAK.
FROM BEHIND THE BAR, A FIGURE WATCHED THEIR EXCHANGE WITH QUIET AMUSEMENT. THE GRIM REAPER, POLISHING A GLASS, LISTENED INTENTLY TO THE UNFOLDING STORY. HE LOVED STORIES, ESPECIALLY THOSE HAPPENING RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES. THE MORTAL PAIR'S CONVERSATION WAS ALMOST DELIGHTFUL, THEIR FATES STILL UNWRITTEN.
BUT TIME, EVER FICKLE, SLIPPED AWAY UNNOTICED. IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, THE TWO MORTALS HAD VANISHED, LEAVING NOTHING BEHIND BUT THE WHISPERS OF THEIR VOICES AND THE FAINT WARMTH OF THEIR PRESENCE.
ON THE TABLE, WHERE THE FLAME OF DEATH HAD ONCE BURNED, A GLASS RING REMAINED. INSIDE, WATER FLOWED RAPIDLY THROUGH IT, BUT SOMETHING WAS OFF. THE HEAT FROM THE FIRE HAD UNEVENLY WARMED THE GLASS, CAUSING THE ICE INSIDE TO MELT FASTER IN SOME PLACES THAN OTHERS. THE WATER NOW SURGED ERRATICALLY, BUILDING PRESSURE.
THE REAPER, WITH HIS ETERNAL PATIENCE, WIPED THE SAME GLASS OVER AND OVER, HIS GAZE DRIFTING TO THE TABLE. THE WATER INSIDE THE GLASS RING SPED UP, THE FLOW BECOMING TURBULENT.
"CRACK... CRACK... CRACK!"
SUDDENLY, THE STRAIN BECAME TOO MUCH. THE PIPE COULDN'T HANDLE THE IMBALANCE, AND TINY FRACTURES SPLINTERED ACROSS ITS SURFACE. THE CRACKS DEEPENED, SPREADING LIKE SPIDER WEBS.
"BOOM!"
THE EXPLOSION SENT SHARDS OF GLASS AND ICE FLYING, AND THE WATER, ONCE CONTAINED, FLOODED THE TABLE. THE REAPER LOOKED AT THE MESS BEFORE HIM, AND A SOUNDLESS LAUGH ESCAPED HIS LIPS. HIS DARK EYES GLEAMED WITH AMUSEMENT, THE CORNERS OF HIS MOUTH CURLING INTO A SATISFIED GRIN.
"INTERESTING," HE MURMURED TO HIMSELF, PLACING THE GLASS DOWN. "THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY INTERESTING."
HE CONTINUED TO WAIT, KNOWING THAT ANOTHER STORYTELLER WOULD SOON APPEAR. FOR HIM, TIME WAS INFINITE, AND THE STORIES, OH, THE STORIES, THEY WERE WHAT MADE ETERNITY WORTH ENDURING.
"WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IT OR NOT, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED TO ME."
BASTIAN CLOSED HIS EYES, THE WEIGHT OF WHAT HE WAS ABOUT TO REVEAL ALMOST TOO MUCH TO BEAR. EVEN HE, SEASONED AS HE WAS, KNEW THAT WHAT CAME NEXT WAS BEYOND HIS OWN ABILITY TO FULLY COMPREHEND OR HANDLE ALONE.