"I need your wisdom, Solas, to withstand the strong voices that would go too far—like Elgar'nan. I need you..." Mythal had asked of him too many years ago, when he had still been only the ancient spirit of Wisdom who dwelled in the Fade. Now, Solas was an Evanuris, and those words echoed like faint reverberations as he watched how far his enemies had gone.
In the distance, astride an imposing war unicorn, Elgar'nan advanced—King of the Elves and General of the Enlightened Army. He rode his beast with the arrogance of one born to command, sheltered by masterwork armor forged of Dawn Diamond: an exceptionally resilient allogenic metal the Sun-Tamer and first of the Evanuris had obtained by manipulating the very might of the sun itself, fusing it with the earth-crust taken from the back of one of the Pillars of the Earth—nearly felled during the last Great Battle against the Earth.
Today, they meant to make that feat real again.
Solas, Spirit-Speaker, held the Wolf Scepter with unwavering steadiness: a powerful weapon forged with the blood of the Great Queen Mythal's dragons and the essence of a king-spirit of Valor. With it, he commanded his spiritual troops.
Behind him, the spirits who had answered his call formed uneven ranks, fluttering with anticipation. He did not know if they would be enough. Among them were presences of Determination, Valor, Loyalty, and Justice. All of them—and he as well—stared in somber silence at the catastrophe stretched out before their eyes.
Even so, Solas felt grateful for their company. After all, what was Wisdom without the support of those other virtues? It was they who kept him standing in times so dark—times that threatened to break him and tempted him to err. For that reason he gave thanks with humility, acknowledging the act of love his spirit-brethren performed in following him to war despite their own misgivings.
The Speaker knew not all spirits approved of joining the elves' army. He was only the bridge between two peoples, the voice capable of binding spirits and embodied beings to a common cause… but convincing them was not simple. Many did not agree with the slaughter of the titans, and that dissonance sowed in him insecurities, doubts… and fear.
Was he doing the right thing, involving them?
Though Mythal and Elgar'nan had given their word of honor that they would protect the spirits, he could not stop wondering. It was foolish to do so. The Kings of the Elves were beings of their word, but he found it difficult to entrust the spirits' lives to anyone.
Then a delicate—yet firm—hand settled on his shoulder and pulled him out of his brooding. He did not need to turn to know who it was.
Ahead of them, hundreds of elven corpses lay broken after the Pillar of the Earth's assault—a brutal reminder of why they fought. The titans showed no mercy toward the budding society that fought tooth and nail for its inherent right to exist.
Not even the Sun-Tamer had found a way to defeat them; his power barely managed to force their retreat, and each retreat cost hundreds of elven lives.
They were desperate.
- We have no other option, Solas. - Mythal whispered beside him. - You must create the weapon.
He clenched his teeth, wishing for an instant he wore heavy armor like the army's warriors—if only so she would not sense his doubts. The Queen of the Elves turned toward him, and her golden eyes caught his gaze. The long lashes, the pale skin, the red lips… everything in her seemed the illusion of a fragile woman, when in truth she was the most powerful among them all.
Mythal was exceptional; she could steal his breath with a glance. They had shared eons in their spiritual forms, but it was not until they took physical bodies that they were consumed by a carnal desire unknown to them both. They loved each other. They loved each other more than when they were only entities of the Fade—and that love made it harder still for him to protect his own.
But he was the Speaker.
The spirits trusted him… and what she proposed was terrible.
An act of amputated dreams.
Sometimes, in the privacy of his thoughts, Solas wondered if that was why so many spirits hesitated to follow him to war. Perhaps they sensed that he had begun to consider it…
To consider breaking the titans' spirits, if only to grant the elves a peaceful existence.
- No. That is madness.
- Is it not greater madness to watch our people die when you hold the key to defeat them?
- We do not know that with certainty.
- Because you do not have the courage to try!
Mythal's words went straight through him. He knew she did not think him a coward, but he also knew they were desperate. Mythal had been a spirit of Benevolence; she wanted only to turn these lands into acts of love and greatness. But the injuries her people had suffered at their enemies' hands were vast—countless. They were exhausted now. Tired of waging war. Tired of begging for a little peace. And every time they managed to build a thriving community, the titans returned. They struck. They razed it until the elves hovered at the edge of extinction.
They were tired.
The elves deserved something else.
Solas knew it too.
- It is not so simple, my love. - he whispered, looking away as he gripped his staff tightly. A powerful wind cut through them and Solas's robe flared in response. - It is not so simple.
- My people's deaths are not simple to me, Solas! - she shot back, desperation seeping into her voice.
They faced each other, each clinging to their ideals, their pain.
- My love, please… - Mythal relented at last. The crown of Lunar Dragon Bone gleamed as she turned to look at him. In those golden eyes was supplication, and it tore him apart that he could not give her what she asked. - You know, as well as I do, that it is the only way to end this war… You know the last thing I want is to commit an act of evil… and I know even you recognize it in the privacy of your mind, as surely as I speak it aloud. - Solas felt his heart wrench at her words. - Otherwise you would not have confessed it to me. It was you who came to me with this possible solution, my wise love, and now you refuse to carry out the act that will bring us peace.
- But the cost, Mythal…
- Will be ours… - She almost turned fully toward him, almost took his arm with intimacy, but held herself back. It was not appropriate there. Solas watched her lower her gaze, swallow, search for strength in the deepest part of herself. If only Mythal understood she was the most powerful among them. The only one truly capable of walking away from this war unscathed.
Then she exhaled. Found the fortitude he envied so much. And straightened in her full majesty once more—becoming again the regal Queen of the Elves.
- You and I will pay the price. We will not let the rest of the kingdom know. It will be our secret. For them.
- Your Majesty, please… - the Speaker murmured. - It is not proper that we lose decorum. We are at war. Let us go and offer aid to our King and leave these matters for another moment. My spiritual armies await my orders. My King awaits my help.
Mythal snorted, and her body transformed into a magnificent High Dragon, surging up toward the skies. Solas felt the weight of guilt threaten to crush him completely as he watched her fly toward Elgar'nan.
And then it happened.
A gigantic creature rose between the mountains.
They had been waiting for it.
The Sha-Brytol had spent long, long months amassing spiritual power for their masters; the elves, awaiting the awakening of one of their stone gods. And at last, it had happened.
Desperation.
A titan stood before the Enlightened Army. Despite its monstrous size, it moved with the agility of a condemned assassin—a mass of living stone driven by boundless hatred. Two unbreakable boulders—its colossal arms—came down on the King with a violence that made the entire surface tremble. The plateau that held the elves shuddered, cracked, nearly gave way…
…but held.
Elven warriors charged with a battle cry. Mages drew on arcane power and forced the plateau to remain firm. The Sun-Tamer roared—more visceral than any storm—and with his Solar Sword he struck at the enemy.
Watching Elgar'nan fight was always a delight. In Solas, it woke fascination. That man seemed to know every secret of a battlefield.
All of them…
…except how to destroy a titan.
That secret was his.
No: his and hers.
Theirs.
Even so, Elgar'nan was an irritation for how reckless he was—how he exposed himself to danger again and again, as though he challenged death itself. The Evanuris possessed immortal bodies, yes… but the titans were the only ones capable of splitting them.
- Spirits! Protect the King of the Elves! - Solas bellowed, raising his scepter before throwing himself toward the precipice.
The spiritual entities swarmed around him, pouring into him the strength he needed to take the shape of the Great Wolf. A dark-furred lupine beast, the size of the High Dragons, took his place and lunged into the hunt, devouring distance with each masterful stride.
At his side, Mythal—now in her imposing, savage draconic form—dove from the sky toward Elgar'nan, who was already calling for Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, to join the war.
The clash was harsh and cruel until, at last, they forced the titan to retreat back into its own stone shell.
A vast mountain.
Nothing more.
It no longer beat with life. No longer bellowed. No longer killed them.
But the elves knew it would remain there, watchful, waiting to be fed enough spiritual power to rise again against the People of the Elves.
The outcome of the war was, once again, the same as always: elves and spirits slain. Rivers of blood spilled. Whole peoples razed. It had taken only three savage forms of the Evanuris, the bulk of the elven army, and the spiritual hosts.
And the worst of it?
They had not even defeated it.
The cycle felt endless. When the Sha-Brytol gathered enough spiritual energy, they awakened three or four titans at once. The elves fought them all, yes—but each time the cost grew heavier for the People.
- The King of the Elves has survived, Speaker. - Loyalty murmured at Solas's left.
Yes. Elgar'nan had survived. Solas could hear him in the distance, roaring orders, trying to gather what remained of his army.
Almost nothing.
The Great Wolf growled and returned to his Evanuris form.
- How many spirits have dissolved into energy, Loyalty?
- More than we expected. - the spirit answered. - Your enemies grow stronger with each passing battle, Speaker. - It still felt strange that, after so many years, spirits continued to recognize the titans as enemies of the elves…
…but not theirs.
- Perhaps you should consider the participation of other spiritual entities. Chaos? Vengeance?
- Too dangerous, Loyalty. They are… difficult to command. Insubordinate.
- I understand, Speaker.
And it said no more. It remained at his side, watching the troops regroup.
But Solas understood what those words left unsaid.
The noblest purposes of the spirits no longer found meaning in this war. Their loyalty endured, but not their conviction. The battle against the titans had ceased to be an act of spiritual defense, becoming instead a slow butchery of bodies and wills.
Solas could not keep asking them to stand there without conviction; that would only distort their purposes…
Perhaps Mythal was right.
Perhaps only one alternative remained...
…terrible as it was.