Paragon of Destruction

"You want to hear about the outside world?" Arran hesitated in answering the question. Karanos had spared him for now, but once the white-eyed man had the answers he wanted, he might still decide to take his long-awaited revenge.

"So I do," the gaunt mage said. He glanced at Arran, then added, "I do not mean to kill you after you answer my questions. You are what, two centuries old, if that? I am not so unreasonable as to blame you for events that happened centuries before you were even born."

"I'm twenty-seven," Arran replied. "Or maybe twenty-eight." He wasn't quite sure which of the two it was, but either way, informing Karanos of his youth seemed a sensible thing to do.

"Twenty-seven?" Karanos gave Arran a long stare with his piercing white eyes. "You fight well, for one barely out of infancy. But follow me to my residence — you can answer my questions along the way."

Arran realized there was no point in refusing. Unsettling though the gaunt mage's appearance might be, it did not seem like the man had any hostile intent — not beyond the initial beating he had given Arran, at least. And more importantly, Arran had little doubt that the man could easily force him to talk, if he so wished.

As they made their way to the buildings at the center of the cavern, he detailed the current state of Amydon, repeating what Kimon had told him when he visited the town.

"It's become a mining town once more?" Amused surprise sounded in the mage's voice. "Thousands of years of turmoil, and in the end, the city merely returned to its origins." He sighed softly. "Perhaps it's for the best. Glory only brought Amydon ruin. But a mining town… a mining town can escape notice, and have a chance at peace."

Arran only listened with half an ear. Not because he wasn't interested in what Karanos had to say — and certainly not because he wished to offend the man — but because they had reached the center of the cavern. And now, they were passing between the many large buildings that stood there.

The buildings' designs filled Arran with wonder. They were all shaped from smooth stone, with massive walls and square towers.

Yet although the buildings' straight angles and thick features were far from elegant, they were far from clumsy. Rather, they seemed to follow an aesthetic that valued function over form.

"This city…" Arran began, turning to Karanos. "Did you build it?"

"Did I build this?" The question drew a laugh from the white-eyed mage, and he shook his head. "This city was built long ago, and abandoned many thousands of years before I was ever born. I merely had the fortune of being the first to find it."

"Then who built it?" Arran asked, his eyes wandering around the buildings that surrounded them.

"That, I do not know," Karanos said. "Although I do know why they built it. And I will tell you, if you wish — but not before you finish answering my questions."

He gestured at a large building a few hundred paces ahead, then continued, "But first, let me welcome you to my palace. It doesn't offer much in the way of comfort, but it does not lack for space."

Arran followed Karanos inside, where he soon saw that the gaunt mage had spoken the truth — the building was as austere as it was spacious, with wide halls and bare stone furniture.

They passed through several halls, with Karanos finally leading them to a large chamber that held several large stone chairs, a stone desk, and stone bookcases — all of them empty.

As Karanos sat down in one of the chairs, he asked, "How goes the war? From your appearance here, I assume the Shadowflame Society has not been defeated just yet?"

"The war has ended," Arran replied. "At least for now. About fifty years ago, the Hunters and the Ninth Valley reached a truce, and the borderlands have been peaceful ever since."

"A truce?" Karanos frowned, then shook his head. "Merely a brief pause. The war between won't truly end until one side is thoroughly defeated. Each is too much of a threat to the other. I only fully understood it when Amydon had already fallen — why the Shadowflame mages would not accept neutral powers in their lands. It is a war not for power, but for survival."

Arran narrowed his eyes as he looked at Karanos. While the pale mage had not ventured outside the underground city for half a millennium, he had already been there when the Hunters first arrived. And that meant he might know more about the conflict's origins than anyone Arran had met so far.

"Why did the Hunters attack?" he asked, curious to hear what the white-eyed man knew.

"Those you call Hunters are part of an empire," Karanos replied. "An empire that was once as powerful as the one that lies behind the mountains. But for countless thousands of years, it has been in retreat, fleeing an unstoppable enemy."

"What kind of enemy?" Arran asked at once.

"That, I do not know," Karanos said. "Though I suspect their enemy is magical in nature — only that can explain their hatred for mages. They are a closed society, one that jealously guards its secrets. And that, too, might offer some insight into the nature of their true enemy."

"But if they're fighting another enemy," Arran began, unsatisfied with Karanos's answers, "why would they invade the borderlands? If they're already at war, wouldn't starting a second one weaken them?"

"Clearly, they're losing," the white-eyed mage replied. "And the Shadowflame Society stands in the way of their escape." He paused briefly, then continued, "Unless I'm mistaken, their true intention is to pass through that Ninth Valley of yours and carve out a dominion on the other side of the mountains — a place where they might be safe."

"They want to invade the Empire?" Arran asked, eyes wide with shock. While he had known the Hunters had plans against the Valley, he had not expected that they would have designs on the Empire itself. And even if years had passed since he had left the Empire, the thought of it being invaded still caused him some outrage.

"That is what I believe," Karanos said. "Though it's merely a guess — as I said, little information escapes their lands. And that is something I cannot imagine to have changed, even after half a millennium."

Arran and Karanos spent the next hour speaking about the war, with Arran informing the old mage of the most recent developments and Karanos returning the favor by detailing the war's beginnings.

To Arran's disappointment, there was little Karanos could tell him that he did not already know. He welcomed the tales of long-forgotten battles, but the things he really wished to know — the true nature of the Hunters' society and their supposed enemy — turned out to be as much of a mystery to Karanos as they were to Arran.

Finally, during a lull in the conversation, Arran decided to change the subject.

He gave Karanos a curious glance, then asked, "What are you?"

"What am I?" Although the mage's white eyes showed no emotion, the rest of his expression betrayed some confusion at the question.

"The magic you used…" Arran hesitated, then continued. "It's unlike anything I've seen before, like you were using Shadow as a weapon. Are you… a Sage?"

"A Sage?" A thoughtful expression crossed Karanos's face, as if it was a question he had never considered before. "I was barely an Archmage when Amydon fell, but now…" He paused for some moments, brow furrowed in thought above his white eyes. Then, he shook his head. "I do not believe so."

Arran looked at the man in disbelief. "You don't know for sure if you're a Sage or not?"

Karanos smiled wryly. "These things are not so simple as you might believe. Five centuries in the dark have greatly improved my understanding of Shadow, but I feel there is still much left to learn. Whether I'm a Sage… I think I might have started on the path toward becoming one, but I do not believe I have reached that destination just yet."

The answer did little to satisfy Arran's curiosity, but it seemed Karanos truly did not know the answer. He frowned, then asked another question — one that had caused him nearly as much confusion.

"Sage or not, given your strength, why haven't you left this city? You are powerful enough to defend Amydon now, aren't you?"

Yet the white-eyed mage merely shook his head. "My presence would merely endanger Amydon. I am strong enough to defend myself, if only barely. But to defend a city against foes such as your Shadowflame Society? Such power is still far beyond me."

Arran furrowed his brow. "You're not strong enough to face the Shadowflame Society? But… I've seen its leaders fight, and you are at least their equal in power."

And even that, he thought, was an understatement. In a fight between Brightblade and Karanos, he suspected the latter would hold the upper hand. Not just because of raw power — something which Brightblade had in abundance — but because Karanos somehow used Shadow Essence in a manner he had previously thought completely impossible.

And Arran was almost certain that it was, in fact, Shadow Essence that Karanos had used. He still had numerous bruises on his body that were left by the man's spells, and the strikes had felt completely different from any that Arran had previously suffered.

Being hit by Shadowflame felt much like being hit by Fire Essence, and Arran had little doubt that the same would hold true for Shadow merged with other types of Essence. Yet Karanos's attacks had contained not even a trace of Fire, Force, Wind, or any other Essence Arran had encountered.

"Perhaps you've seen the Society's leaders fight," Karanos replied, "but there are others who stand behind them, ones stronger than them."

He narrowed his white eyes, then added, "And much the same holds true for the ones you call Hunters. You should not believe that what they show the world is their full strength — there are greater powers they keep hidden for desperate times."

The answer was an unwelcome one. While Arran knew that the Shadowflame Society had Sages backing it, he had not known the Hunters had similar backers. But then, it made sense — the Hunters would not have driven back the Ninth Valley for centuries if they couldn't match the Society's true strength.

"But enough talk of war," Karanos said. "You are my first visitor in five hundred years, yet already, I tire of the subject." A small smile passed his thin lips, and then, he asked, "You came here to find the mines, did you not? If you wish, I can show them to you."