Chapter 30 - Looming Threats

  The threats Daniel knew of were all potentially world-ending, but some were far less urgent than others.

  Best to start with the least urgent, I guess.

  “The world serpent.”

  Zoltran's eyes narrowed. "That's... an old legend. One of the creation myths from before even my time. You're saying it's real?"

  "It's real. Thousands of kilometers in length, mostly buried beneath the sea floor. Dormant for so long that it's become a myth."

  “Thousands of kilometers? Why would the gods create such a thing?”

  Because the world felt too boring without it, and because I’m an idiot, Daniel chided himself silently. A casual stroke of his pen had never haunted him this badly before. Though this was unlikely to be the worst.

  “I don't have answers for everything, just... knowledge of what exists. But it's not very likely to awaken after tens of thousands of years of slumber, so I'm more worried about the others, honestly."

  “Hmm… Continue.”

  “The next is the world seal itself. As far as I know, no one knows exactly what it keeps sealed away. But as a formation that crosses every continent in the world, using the latent mana to keep something sealed… It has to be potentially world-ending.”

  He'd written the world-seal as background information, a mysterious element that added depth to the world. Ancient ley lines that connected across continents, channeling mana into a purpose no one living remembered. The kind of thing that made readers speculate and theorize without him ever having to commit to an answer.

  Because I never decided what it was actually sealing. It was a potential future arc, before I decided to end it where I did.

  “Indeed,” Zoltran nodded gravely. “And you’re right about no one knowing the true purpose, perhaps with the exception of the old turtle. I take it you know of him as well?”

  “The oldest member of The Council, yes. I don’t know how old he is or what his origins are, but I know he’s the oldest person in the world—with the possible exception of the next threat.”

  Daniel paused, letting the implication hang. This one was going to be hard to explain, because he'd barely developed it himself.

  “Do tell.”

  “The Sovereign.”

  "...That’s a name I haven’t heard since early childhood. A story told to scare us into hiding in the endless forest."

  "He was real. The most powerful being in history, by a considerable margin. The creator of the first Sarun magic, the origin of the word itself. He contracted with the spirit king and ruled the world for tens of thousands of years."

  The Sovereign had been one of those ideas that seemed cool. An ancient emperor-mage whose power had shaped the development of magic itself. But he'd never gotten around to fully developing the concept, leaving it as a vague backstory that explained certain magical conventions.

  "These are legends even among elves, Artorias. Stories from before recorded history."

  "And yet you recognized the name immediately. You know the stories aren't entirely fiction."

  Zoltran studied him. "What does your knowledge tell you? Is he alive?"

  "I don't know. I was only told he existed—no confirmation of death, no confirmation of survival. But if he is alive..." Daniel let the implication hang.

  "Then everything else we've discussed is secondary." Zoltran's expression hardened. "A being with that level of power, watching and waiting..."

  "I don’t think he will be a problem. Unlike the last, and likely most urgent threat."

  "I feared you would say that. Nothing you've mentioned so far qualifies as 'urgent' in the immediate sense."

  "Exactly. The others are dormant, possibly mythical, or at least stable. This one is active, growing stronger, and will eventually reach a threshold."

  He'd written it that way deliberately—a ticking time bomb built into the world's foundation. Something that would force a confrontation eventually, whether anyone wanted it or not. A narrative device to create urgency.

  "Go on."

  "The Queen's egg in the deep. You know of the mermaids?"

  “Of course.”

  Mermaids were real, though not well known. They traded with a few coastal villages, occasionally raided ships, and maintained their underwater kingdoms with the same complex politics as any surface nation. Or, at least that was the case in the past.

  “Do you know how they are born?”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The question seemed to catch Zoltran off guard. “From eggs, I expect?”

  “Indeed. And the longer they stay in their eggs, the stronger they will be at birth. Some manage to stay unborn for over a year, or even two in rare cases. And those become great warriors of their clan, even threatening grandmages underwater.”

  It had been a neat bit of worldbuilding, he'd thought at the time. An explanation for why some mermaids were more powerful than others, a biological justification for their warrior caste. The longer the gestation, the more mana the developing mermaid could absorb from the ocean itself.

  "And the Queen's egg?"

  Zoltran's voice had gone very quiet. He'd already made the leap, already understood where this was going.

  “One egg has stayed unbroken for thousands of years. That is the Queen’s egg. A being to herald the rule of mermaids everywhere.”

  The words came out heavy. He'd written it as a legend within his own story—a myth the mermaids themselves told. Their ultimate ruler, gestating for millennia, growing strong enough to unite all the scattered clans under one banner.

  Strong enough to challenge the surface world for dominance.

  “...Oh. And every day, the queen gets stronger?”

  “Every day.”

  Zoltran remained quiet for a long time before speaking again. "And you believe your return is connected to this. That you returned now because these threats are reaching some kind of critical point."

  "I’m not sure. It could be random luck, but there are a lot of signs pointing to something greater."

  “How would we know for sure?”

  "By investigating them. The Queen's egg first—it's the most urgent and the most verifiable. If I'm right about that, the others become more credible."

  If I can find it. If it exists where I think it does.

  Zoltran sighed, heavier than such a young body should be capable of. "I will leave the investigations to you, old friend. These threats have slept for millennia—they can wait a few more weeks while you verify your knowledge."

  He studied Daniel for a long moment, then his expression softened. "But enough of dooms and prophecies. For now, I am simply happy to see you alive and well."

  Daniel felt tension drain from his shoulders. The weight of prophecies and threats and impossible responsibilities faded, just for a moment, replaced by something simpler.

  "Same to you, Zoltran. Although I expected you to look older, not younger."

  Zoltran's young face broke into a grin. “Oh, you must excuse this temporary form of mine. It is a simple disguise I use to check up on the students from time to time.”

  “Oh, that’s what it is. Sarun magic?"

  "Decades of work," Zoltran admitted with a nod. "The first stable form took me nearly thirty years to perfect. But it's proven useful for moving among students without suspicion. They speak more freely to a child than to the Headmaster."

  Thirty years to perfect a disguise.

  The timeframe made Daniel's head spin. Three decades of dedicated research and experimentation, all to occasionally walk among students as an equal.

  "Clever. Though I imagine it's strange, looking young again after so many centuries."

  "Strange, yes. But not unwelcome."

  “Better than being reminded of how short the time you have left is?”

  The words came out before Daniel could stop them, blunt and tactless.

  But the ancient elf just laughed. “Hah, I have more time than you! No need to worry about me, Artorias. Instead, worry about your girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend. The word felt too casual for what they'd been.

  Besides, he was not Artorias. Part of him was, through some strange fusion of memories and identity, but that's not what Elania expected to meet.

  “I’m terrified of meeting her, if I’m being honest.”

  "Yes, that is understandable."

  Zoltran's voice filled with sympathy. If anyone could understand the toll a thousand years could take on a relationship, it would be him. He’d known them both, and probably seen the aftermath of Artorias’ sacrifice.

  "But the sooner the better, right?"

  "You'd think so,” Daniel replied. “But a thousand years is a long time to grieve. What if she's not the same person I remember? What if I'm not who she needs me to be?"

  "Then you'll both figure it out together. Like you did the first time."

  It was strange hearing such wise words from a child. But they rang true.

  “Let me send her a message! I think she’s on a trip, but she should return immediately if she learns of your return.” He moved to the branch of magical birds, picking one up with his small hand.

  “Well, hold on. Do you think it’s a good idea to tell her outright?”

  Daniel's voice came out more panicked than he'd intended. The thought of Elania receiving a message—Artorias is back, come immediately—filled him with a dread he couldn't quite articulate.

  “Hmm, perhaps not. She has been waiting for a thousand years, so she might not believe it before seeing you with her own eyes…”

  “You could tell her an old friend wants to visit her?”

  Zoltran's expression shifted. "Well, she's not on speaking terms with most of her old friends. Other than me, of course, and even then..."

  "Even then?"

  Zoltran shook his head. "Losing you changed her, Artorias. She's been waiting, yes, but not... not kindly."

  Daniel closed his eyes. A thousand years of waiting. Of course it had changed her.

  "I did that to her," he said quietly.

  "You saved the continent. She knows that. But knowing something and accepting it..." Zoltran trailed off. "Just be patient with her. And with yourself."

  The advice was simple, but Daniel could hear the depth of experience behind it. Zoltran had lived long enough to watch countless people navigate grief and loss and reunion. He had probably made his own mistakes and learned his own lessons.

  "I will. I have to."

  Zoltran studied him for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "You'll need somewhere to stay while you wait. The academy has guest quarters, but..." He paused, considering. "The Grifantes tower might be more appropriate. Your family's home."

  “...I don’t think it can be considered my home anymore. I do have business there, but I would prefer not revealing my identity unless I have to.”

  Zoltran nodded. “That is understandable. And what makes a home is the people, of course.”

  “Right… I’ll likely return here once I've settled some things at the tower. There are still many things I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “I feel the same way. But a thousand years of catching up will take a while, trust me.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  "I'll send the message to Elania tonight. Give yourself a few days to settle in before she arrives." There was knowing sympathy in those old eyes. "You'll want to be prepared."