Part 3 recap: As they race toward the Drakkonian Orb, Bellarax and Domatra begin to realize that this event, the discovery of long-lost Drakkonian magic, will be interpreted differently by different factions across the land of Etheria. Scholars will want to study it, soldier and military machines (like the armies of conquering Ivarium) will wish to harness it, using it against their enemies. Their musings are short lived as they arrive at the Orb, and find a looming alien statue next to it. As Domatra moved forward toward the Orb, the statue comes to life – and attacks the Forcemaster. They battle the Guardian, eventually defeating it, and as they do so, the stars overhead change, slowing revealing a celestial map showing the location of all the V’Tar Orbs across Etheria.
Now, enjoy part 4! -- Sabrath Kell
BATTLE LINES: Part 4
No sooner had she touched the Orb, than it had begun to spin rapidly. Above her, the points of light quickly faded out, save for one single point that became brighter and larger. The strange veins of purple light that crisscrossed the floor of the island also pulsed, quicker, faster, brighter.
By then Bellarax had made his way to the pedestal and grabbed Domatra by the shoulder, spinning her around. "What have you done!" he yelled, gesturing to the now largely empty skies above them. "Do you know what we witnessed? It was a map! A map showing the locations of all the V'Tar Orbs. But you – you were too greedy! Where is your scholarship? Your training?"
"Who needs the map when you have the Orb in front of you?" she replied, leveling her forceblade at his chest. "There are larger forces at work than the endless debate of history, Bellarax."
The sky above them was white now, and began to flicker, brilliant flashes of white light that punctuated their every word, capturing each gesture and facial expression as if it were imprinted on clay. Other than themselves and the light, nothing else existed.
"Domatra!" Bellarax yelled, somehow trying to drown out the brilliance of the light. "This was no V'Tar Orb. I think this is the Nexus! Don't you get it? That orb was some other kind of Drakkonic magic -- something that powers this place. Gods only know what happens now."
Then suddenly, the flickering stopped, and the light receded.
They were no longer on the Nexus; the island and the strange orb and the dead guardian were nowhere to be seen. Instead, they were in a cross-shaped chamber, with large vaulted ceilings and smooth stone floors. Along the walls, shelves and tables were arranged, each holding collections of thick tomes, scroll tubes, odd glass bottles and objects that were certainly not from the current age. This was the lair of a Drakkonian Archmage, one which had not been visited for many, many hundreds of years. And yet, the real prizes lay on each side of the chamber -- spherical orbs, metallic in color with glowing purple runes etched upon them. Next to each were more of the Guardian creatures from the Nexus. These, finally, were the V'Tar Orbs, the pair suddenly knew of a certainty.
Even more incredible, near the center of the chamber, a strange device lay humming. Bellarax could not shake the impression that it resembled the heart of some long dead god or giant, with monstrous veins that pulsed to the beat of some far off circulation. How the Drakkon Archmages of had crafted such things, he had no idea, but like the certain knowledge that the metallic orbs were V'Tar orbs, he knew that this was a V'Torrak, a device that could literally open a portal to Voltari, siphoning in its pure, ineffable power.
He looked at Domatra, found her staring at him.
"I may have been foolish before, Bellarax, but this time, I am certain. How many scholars have lived before us, who have studied musty scraps of parchment all their lives, hoping to see what we see before us now?"
Bellarax nodded, but kept his eyes on Domatra. He smiled, sadly.
"You know Domatra, we are witnessing the line of our age. Once the nations awaken and find pure V'Tar power in their grasp... who is to say what will keep them in check. For five centuries, the Mage War Accords have sheltered our diplomacy, our disputes, our rivalries. For five centuries, the dreams of Mereveran have allowed us to rebuild our land, by relegating our baser instincts to the safety of the arena. Now? I wonder how the history books will remember our age. Will we be another Age of Catastrophe? Or another Golden Age?"
"You always did know how to deliver a moving speech, old friend," said Domatra. "And I think your time at Sistarra has only honed your ability.
"I say it's a fitting honor that we find ourselves here today. Two representatives of the Society of Everlore, an organization bent on rediscovering the powers of the past. A scholar of Sortilege, training the land's future mages, and a emissary of the Empress, a chance at long last to reforge the Pellian Empire, bringing back the lost sheep of Westlock and the Selenia into the fold of the new Ivarium Empire."
Bellarax sighed. "I was afraid you were going to saw that. I'm afraid 'The Scholar I once knew has become the Tactician.'"
"Don't quote "The Arts of Lord Bellicar" at me. This is destiny, Bellarax. 'Only fools shrink from opportunity.'"
"Yes. Yes, you are right, of course." said Bellarax. "And we are no fools." His voice was husky, but no longer wistful. "Should we find ourselves on some other field, perhaps even on the same side some day, let's discuss this day in length. But until then --"
As if a thunderclap had struck the chamber, the two Mages hurdled themselves forward, each toward one of the Orbs. As they moved, they cast familiar spells and enchantments, and summoned armor and wands.
The Line of the Age had been crossed.
...to be concluded...
