Garinor decided that it would be best if the prince ruled the land, but he couldn’t take Tomli’s life after all their years together. It would mean giving up his own life, but for Tomli it was worth it.
“The prince will rule. I sacrifice myself.”
“Very well, Chosen One,” spoke the Voice.
Garinor looked at Tomli, hoping he would understand this decision. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Tomli would make a good ruler, but that it was such an outlandish thing for him to suddenly become the king. Perhaps the prince would turn his power now to seek a fitting destiny for the land. But either way, his friend would be alive and that was what mattered to him most.
He felt a great tug from within his heart. The scepter worked its magic on him and the green light surrounding him coalesced at his chest and then seeped toward the center of the crystal top of the old artifact. He knew his spirit was being drawn from within him and he was ready for what was to come.
With a horrible wrenching feeling, Garinor was pulled from his body and encased inside the scepter itself. He could see his body standing there without life in its eyes. It merely watched him vacantly. But he couldn’t look for long, for the gems around him started to sparkle.
The emerald lights started to fade away but then they stopped, holding a faint glow. They waited for something, he knew inside, but he didn’t know what. Then, at last, the green light was swept into a whirlwind of yellow light from the topazes and he felt himself brought up into the air. He passed through the ceiling and extended in all directions, reaching to the far borders of the land. As he did so, he could see the villagers sweeping by underneath him. Tendrils of light cascaded down and notified them of the destiny as it had been fulfilled. The heir had been found but the prince was chosen to lead.
Across the land Garinor could feel the pain of the people, and when he floated over Paligar he saw his mother fall to her knees with tears streaming from her eyes that her life’s mission had ultimately failed and the heir, though alive, had not acceded the throne.
After one full pass, the light retracted forcefully to the scepter and Garinor’s senses reeled with the suddenness of it. His body was still nearby, hand clutching the scepter, unable to let go. Around him a strange rumbling sensation started and he knew that soon the scepter would explode and with it would go his spirit. He swept his glance once more over his friend, who was moving again, freed of the prince’s poised sword. He looked like he would be fine.
Garinor eased his mind and prepared for his final farewell. The rumbling of the scepter increased and then with a solid crack it shattered to pieces, taking Garinor’s soul with it.