Ричард Кнаак - The Veiled Prophet

If only I’d known sooner! he desperately thought. If only I’d listened to Mendeln and others, I could have fought it down, buried it deep inside! But now—

Uldyssian hesitated. Eyes wide, he considered one wild thought. This was his power that wrought such devastation. His power. Perhaps there was a way that he could control it. He would…

Spurred by the imminency of the situation, Uldyssian tried to draw back into him what he had unleashed. Yet he quickly discovered that once loose, those forces had amplified a thousandfold and more. They were as much a part of the natural forces of Sanctuary now as they were his. Even if he drew into himself all that he had sent forth, that would no longer be sufficient to save anything.

But Uldyssian could not turn back. There existed nothing for him but reversing what he had caused. He would take in whatever he had to. He had no choice. He would.

There had been a point when the son of Diomedes had wondered if, ultimately, there was no end to the potential of his edyrem gifts. Now he prayed that, if there was an end, it would be just enough to accomplish this epic feat.

Bracing himself and taking a deep breath, Uldyssian began willing the wild forces to return.

He cried out as the first wave coursed into him, for it burned hotter than fire. Yet Uldyssian imagined his brother, imagined Serenthia and Achilios and all those who had faithfully followed him. With their faces in his head, he demanded that his will be done. Nothing else mattered, either consciously or subconsciously.

His body already blazed a brilliant gold and grew yet more blinding as Uldyssian absorbed into himself all that fueled Sanctuary’s end. The area surrounding him radiated powerful amounts of magical energy, all of it heading toward the human. Caught up in the flow of such staggering forces, huge rocks, fragments of wood, and much, much more spun in the air surrounding him.

Uldyssian paid them no mind. Nothing existed for him but to complete what he had started. He saw only the continual rush of magic into not only his body but his very soul. Each moment, the former farmer was certain that he could take no more, and yet he continued to stand, suffering a thousand punishments a thousand times over, each worse than any ever inflicted on a single being.

Faintly, he heard voices, but certain that they were the screams of the dying, Uldyssian fought to ignore them. He could not be distracted. Everything he had needed to be concentrated purely on fulfilling his last hope.

It kept coming. Uldyssian screamed but still managed to hold on. He prayed that when at last he finally faltered, at least he would have somehow saved a few people.

It continued to flow into him like a raging river of molten earth. He went down to his knees but still held on. Yet the flow was also relentless. It kept coming and coming and coming…

Then—

It ceased.

Certain that something had gone awry, Uldyssian continued to try to draw more into him, but nothing else came.

He all but sobbed at this miracle—not for himself, though, but because it meant hope for the others. However, it was far from over. Uldyssian felt everything he had taken in straining to be rereleased. It was all he could do to keep it trapped, and how long that would last, the son of Diomedes could not say.

There came a point of clarity then, an acknowledgment of what it would take to end the threat. Uldyssian found that he had no difficulty with what had to be, for it was not just the only choice but the right choice.

He stood. Shining brighter than the sun and looking far more than human, the son of Diomedes gazed around at all that was his world. Uldyssian admired the rivers, forests, mountains, and seas. He surveyed the many peoples of Sanctuary and marveled at the diversity. More astonishing, like him, they all had the same potential, the same possible greatness.

But the trouble, in Uldyssian’s case, in the case of all his followers, was that it had come too soon. Humanity—and he, in particular—had been thrust too fast into their destiny. That had been Lilith’s doing, the demoness too impatient to let the centuries lead men in the same direction. Uldyssian had not been given the opportunity to mature properly into his gifts.

It was too soon for a being such as Uldyssian had nearly become. Too soon…

You understand…

Uldyssian knew who spoke. Trag’Oul?

I have been trying to touch your mind…but it has been overwhelming, the dragon admitted. The celestial sounded weak but pleased. I knew you would succeed.

No…not until it—I—no longer threaten Sanctuary!

He sensed the dragon’s concurrence. I can show you where it can be unleashed, but it is you who must pay.

I don’t care! Show me!

Trag’Oul did, and Uldyssian gazed in wonder at what the creature revealed. Then…that…

Yes was all Trag’Oul needed to reply.

Uldyssian smiled, his concerns all fading away. He raised his hands to the sky. Is that all I have to do? Just will it to happen?

The choice is yours. It always has been.

Uldyssian felt the dragon recede. He was no longer needed for what the human had to do.

The son of Diomedes used his powers to gaze one last time at those dearest to him—Mendeln, Achilios, and Serenthia. There were two things that he had to do before he continued. With what he could safely command, Uldyssian set about making things right for his brother and friends.

That finished, Uldyssian looked up, but he stared not at the sky. Instead, he gazed far beyond, to that place and time the dragon had revealed to him.

Within, the fury that he kept imprisoned struggled to be free.

It was time. Uldyssian smiled once more—and began to send it forth. The light that erupted shone across the grasslands, across the jungles, across all of Sanctuary. Yet it did not harm, but rather soothed. It touched all living things and made certain they were healed of whatever ill the coming of the edyrem and the near destruction of the world might have caused them.

Uldyssian then drew it together again and let it pour out into the beyond, where it spilled in all directions. He felt the pressure building up again—this time for the final moment—and readied himself and his world for it.

And when it came, it did so with an explosion of pure energy that ever so briefly shook Sanctuary to its foundations. Uldyssian roared, not because of pain but rather the sheer ecstasy of his transformation. He was no longer a mere human but something of which even the angels and demons could not conceive. He was Sanctuary for one moment, and all that surrounded it. His presence dwarfed that of Trag’Oul…of any being near. His consciousness spread out above his treasured world, where he looked at it one last time.

Then, finishing what had to be done, what he desired to be done, Uldyssian ul-Diomed let himself scatter throughout all, his passing from the mortal plane marked for those below by a fiery yet arresting flash of light that did not frighten but rather gladdened.

And forever, whether any knew it or not, would change the world of Sanctuary.

Mendeln was the first to realize that something was amiss. In fact, it was so obvious to him that he was surprised people were not screaming.

The grasslands had been completely restored. Brown and green blades waved gently in a slight breeze. Mendeln cautiously surveyed the area with his dagger and found no malice in the plants.

But he did find something else, the reason for the edyrem’s quiet. They were all as still as statues.

No, not all of them. There were two figures moving toward him, two welcome—and startling—figures.

Achilios and Serenthia—and both looking very much among the living.

They stared at him with equal wonder, clearly as mystified not only about what had happened to their surroundings but also themselves. Mendeln was certain of the cause of the latter, at least.