Later that night, when Triandal finally succumbed to exhaustion after the fight in the prison yard, Elenion and I finally had a chance to resume our discussion from a few days prior.
Elenion sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. His usual air of calm seemed shaken tonight.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight I hadn't heard before.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That doesn't sound ominous at all."
He didn't smile. Instead, he reached into his tattered robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, smoothing it out on the ground. It was covered in intricate markings—symbols and writings very densely packed on the page.
"What is this?" I asked, stepping closer.
"The path to the power you are seeking," he replied, his voice low. "And the truths I've been keeping from you."
I crouched beside him, studying the diagram closer. It was unlike anything I'd seen before, even in the books I had been reading.
"You've had this all along?" I asked, my tone sharp.
"Yes, I began preparing it not long after you arrived," Elenion admitted. "I see the potential within you—the burning desire for vengeance, the need to set so many wrongs right. You must understand, this hasn't been an easy decision for me."
"I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation sooner, but the elves' arrival, as you're well aware, complicated things. Their presence shifted priorities and brought risks I hadn't accounted for. But after what happened today, I realized there's no more time to hesitate."
Elenion's gaze dropped to the floor. "...and one more truth I must share, is that I know how to break the barrier that suppresses magic in this prison... because I helped them build it during my time serving the Supreme King."
The revelation hit me like a blow. "You're telling me this now? After all this time?"
He met my glare without flinching. "Because you weren't ready to hear it before!"
I bit back a retort, forcing myself to focus. I studied the diagram again. "So, these...markings. What are they?"
"A variety of ancient inscriptions," he explained. "Which... will need to be carved into your flesh. They'll act as a conduit, allowing you to channel essence directly."
I let out a deep breath. "Alright... and how do we break the barrier?"
"The barrier is tied to the central wardstone beneath the prison. It dampens all magical essence within its radius. To break it, you'd need a surge of magic strong enough to overwhelm its connection."
"And you didn't think to mention this all before because...?"
"Because there's more," Elenion said, his gaze unwavering. As he gestured toward the parchment.
I frowned. "so, there's catch I presume?"
Elenion's expression darkened. "To complete this particular configuration I have created for you... the process will require a sacrifice."
My blood ran cold. "A sacrifice?"
He nodded. "You'll need the soul of someone strong in magic to complete the ritual. That's why I've waited. It's why I've trained you. It's why I have shared many of my life stories you. Because when the time comes..." He hesitated, his voice faltering for the first time. "You will have to take my life."
The air seemed to drain from the room. I stared at him, searching for some sign that he was joking. But his expression was solemn, resolute.
"You can't be serious," I said finally.
"I've never been more serious," Elenion said firmly. "I've lived far longer than most, Shepard—longer than anyone truly deserves. I've witnessed too much pain, too much loss. I have no desire to remain in this world and watch it descend further into suffering. If the rumors of the demons in the west are true, I have no wish to see the horrors that are yet to come."
"That's not your decision to make," I snapped.
"It is," he said quietly. "And it's the only way forward—for both of us."
I paced the cell, my mind racing. I had envisioned power, revenge, a chance to take back control of my life. But not... this. Elenion was the man that had saved my life!
"There's more you need to know," Elenion continued, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "You won't be the first to bear some of these markings."
I stopped pacing, turning to face him. "What do you mean?"
"Years ago," he began, his tone heavy with regret. They were memories he seemed reluctant to revisit, "I performed a similar ritual for someone else. A child of nobility, born with a gift for magic that most could only dream of, but it wasn't enough for him. His hunger for power was insatiable, his ambition boundless. He was desperate—desperate for more than what his natural abilities afforded him. And I was... foolish enough to oblige. The money that was offered... I was able to help so many people and fund my research..."
He paused, running a hand over his face. "The process worked," he continued after a moment, his voice quieter now, tinged with something between awe and fear. "The markings amplified his abilities beyond anything I had ever seen before. He was a prodigy to begin with, but with the inscriptions… he became something else entirely. His power was staggering, limitless. He could manipulate magic with a precision and force that defied understanding, bending the laws of nature as though they were suggestions rather than rules."
The mage exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "He must be a little older than you by now," he said, his gaze distant, as though he could see the boy in his mind's eye. "With his talent, his training, and the resources of his family, he would be unstoppable. Untouchable. A force that few would dare to challenge. But power like that... it changes people. And I don't mean in ways you can see."
He clenched his hands into fists, his voice tightening. "I don't know where he is now. But I fear... I fear what I might have unleashed upon this world. He was a child, but even then, there was a darkness in him. An arrogance. I saw it, but I ignored it. I told myself I was helping him, that it was his right to have power befitting his talent."
He looked at me then, his gaze piercing, almost pleading. "Do you see why I hesitate to do this again? I swore I would never repeat that mistake. And yet, here we are." His voice faltered.
"And you expect me to follow the same path?" I asked, my voice edged with skepticism.
My frustration was ready to boil over, as I took a step closer. "Again, you lied to me. You told me you'd never done such a thing! And now you expect me to just go along with it too, as if that's supposed to make it better?"
"No," Elenion said firmly. "You'll be different. He was a singular force, unbalanced and unchecked. You will act as his counterbalance, a stabilizing force. With you, the scales will tip back toward equilibrium. If he ever makes a grab for power, you have to be ready to stop him."
Elenion's gaze didn't waver, though a flicker of guilt now crossed his features. "And yes, I lied," he admitted, his tone measured. "But only because I needed you to trust me until you were ready to hear the absolute truth. Had I told you earlier, would you have listened? Or would you have walked away entirely, without giving yourself the chance to change anything?"
The weight of his words settled over me, suffocating in their enormity.
I sank to the floor, my back against the wall. The diagram lay between us, its intricate lines seeming to mock me with their simplicity.
"Why me," I muttered.
"As there has never been a man better suited for such a roll," Elenion said.
I glanced of at him. "But, do you have to be the one who's life I would need to take?"
Elenion's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Yes, because I designed it that way. My blood will be the first on your hands and with every life you go to take from that moment forward, perhaps you'll think twice before you do so."
The candle in the cell sputtered, casting fleeting shadows across his face. In that moment, he looked older than I had ever seen him, as though the weight of centuries had finally caught up to him.
"I am sure you understand there are risks, in accepting to do this Shepard. Risks I'm not sure you fully comprehend yet."
"I'm willing to take them," I said firmly. "I'll do... whatever it takes."
Elenion sighed, but he didn't say anything further. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, his gaze distant. "Whatever it takes," he repeated softly
I stared at the cold stone floor long after the candle burned out, the darkness pressing in around me. The muffled sounds of the prison—distant coughs, faint murmurs, and the occasional clinking of chains—drifted through the corridors. The conversation replaying over in my mind, tangling into an incoherent web of doubts and plans, until exhaustion began to creep over me. Slowly, unwillingly, sleep claimed me, pulling me into its quiet, merciful embrace.