The thought of Tomli possibly crumbling before him was unbearable, so Garinor stepped toward the pedestal himself. He looked from the prince to his best friend and then drew in a breath of air and touched the wrought-iron scepter.
Instantly, a silvery light sparkled out of the scepter and flooded the room. Garinor’s attention was drawn toward the crystal top. Inside, countless tiny gems of all types and colors lined an inner lip just under the crystal dome of the scepter. They twinkled like starlight as they each sprang to life, adding to the whitish brilliance.
“Welcome, Chosen One,” said a booming voice. Garinor looked around, but it was coming from the air itself. It sounded more like all the residents of a small hamlet speaking in unison than it did a single voice. “You have come to the path of destiny, seen ages ago, and ending here. The prophecy stands upon the brink of completion, now that all three principals are present.”
“All three? But how—”
Before he could finish his question, the gems inside the scepter glittered again. The rubies took on a particularly bright hue and the light seeped out of the crystal dome and sought out the prince, standing nearby, unblinking. Next, the sapphires wafted into the air and settled around Tomli. Emeralds released their light and enwrapped Garinor.
“Three,” said the Voice, “prophesied ages ago to meet before this altar. The prince who would keep his reign. The true heir, once thought lost forever. And one Chosen by the heir to select the ruler by claiming the scepter.”
“But then that means… Tomli is the heir, not me.”
“Yes, and he Chose you with his heart to be the one by his side at this crucial moment.”
“But even the prince said that all the information pointed to me.”
“And so it did, by a great ruse crafted by one whose wisdom is matched only by his bravery.”
He knew of whom the Voice spoke without asking. His father. A lifetime that I must apologize for. Pieces fell into place. His father had known that Tomli was the true heir but had pretended that the heir was Garinor in order to protect Tomli. Misinformation had been seeped out and led to the king seeking Garinor in error. And he had organized the Daggerfists to protect him and others like him. Garinor couldn’t believe he hadn’t given his father a chance to explain before rushing off to this cave. Everything was tumbling around his mind. He didn’t know what to do.
“The light of destiny beckons,” spoke the Voice, “but with it comes a price.”
Garinor recalled the prince’s words about a true Seer and the cost of the light of truth. “A human soul.”
“Correct. And now you must choose. Who among these will rule this land? Only the one bearing the scepter may decide.”
Garinor was quiet for a moment. “But will I… die?”
“You have willingly taken several lives of others and so your soul is tainted. Your price is to fuel destiny.”
“You mean the soldier who died moments ago?”
“And those you slew in battle.”
Aghast, Garinor couldn’t respond, but there was nothing to say anyway. It would be pointless to argue with an ethereal voice that knew so much more than he ever could. But without that option, it turned Garinor’s thoughts down a difficult path.
He looked at Tomli, his best friend, and the true heir to the land. He considered all that Tomli had done for him through the years and even on this quest alone. Tomli had protected Garinor in the forest by guiding the others to fend off the hunters, and then had pursued Garinor upon finding the chain in his soggy nightclothes. The chain that he had removed the guard who had taken him from his home. The chain that was oddly familiar, and after what Tomli had said, now he knew why. His father owned one as well. His father had even founded that group meant to protect him. And when he found it, Tomli went without hesitation to join them, not knowing that they were in truth working to protect him instead.
He turned his gaze to the prince, who had shown him excellent treatment over the course of their journey together. He had promised to keep Garinor in comfort for the rest of his life and had lived up to those words on the road. Even when they had overtaken the Daggerfist camp that afternoon, the prince had not ordered the deaths of all they captured. He merely worked to subdue them in order to move on with the next task. He certainly had a capable air about him and Garinor knew he would find a way to manage the duties of the kingdom.
But now he wouldn’t even be able to reap the benefits of the prince’s promise. His soul would be consumed by the scepter. He wouldn’t be able to see his family again or to apologize to his father for not listening to his story. He wondered if the prince’s protection would still extend to his family upon his death. But he had no way of asking. The prince and Tomli both stood nearby, unmoving, caught in some sort of timeless cloud created by the scepter as its magic dealt with Garinor.
“It is time for you to Choose the path of destiny,” spoke the Voice.