The Longest Lament

Chapter III

The day dawned fair and bright. Cronius stood in the center of the Atrium Majora, the great, open-air courtyard within the center of the Citadel of Silver. He stood at the heart of a series of concentric circles, ring after ring of lush, flowering vegetation surrounding him, broken only by pathways for those seeking the center. Beyond the greenery rose the towering inner walls of the Citadel itself.     

He was draped in the silver robes of the Arch Magus, a crystal diadem adorning his brow, while he prepared for the most difficult feat of magic he had ever dared perform. Around him stood sixteen of the most powerful wizards in the city.

All stared at him, utter confidence in their gaze, only waiting for his word to begin the spell which would change their fair city forever, for him to once again revolutionize their lives for the better, as he had so often in the past.    

In truth, he shared their confidence. He had worked too hard to have this fail, spent too long making it fool-proof. The last two decades of his life had been spent scouring through spell books and scrolls of magical theorem, and what he did not find in the annals of the past, he created through trial and error.

Furthermore, he knew the spell worked. He had tested it first on himself, and then, satisfied with its safety, on the woman he loved most in the world. Fifty years later, they had aged not a day. He was as vigorous and strong today as when the spell was cast at thirty years of age. Many other wizards had come forward begging to have this miracle spell stop the curse of aging for them as well. In all cases he had complied, and each instance was an absolute success.

Now, at long last, after decades of preparation, he stood ready to spread this gift for all in the city to share. Celestia would become more than a city of beauty and magical splendor; it would become a city of eternal youth as well.    

The casting would be long and arduous. It was possible some of the wizards assisting him would lack the strength needed to finish. White robed surrogates stood waiting in silence along the walls of hedged greenery surrounding the middle of the Atrium, ready to replace any who proved unable to continue. All now stood in silent readiness, awaiting his signal to begin.    

The moment arrived at last, and with a final sweeping glance to assure himself all was in order, Cronius began the low chanting of spellsong. Though each word was clear, concise, the mind refused to retain any specific words, instead forming a haunting song filled with power.

One at a time, the wizards surrounding him joined in the harmony, each adding their own individual voice and power to the growing magic. Glowing light flowed from each wizard to the next, joining them together before flowing towards the Arch Magus. He stood in the center, the hub in a wheel of resonating magical energy.

As planned, he himself exerted no magical force; instead he served as conductor, directing and focusing the combined energies in ways none save he had mastered. It proved a wise decision, for he found himself only just up to the task.   

As the song grew, one older wizard fell to the ground in exhaustion, unable to handle the strain. Two junior wizards moved forward to lift him from the floor and help him from the chamber. The song was incomplete for a long moment, until another white robed figure took his place, his voice filling the missing role. At last the song reached its crescendo.

Cronius, his eyes alight with power, extended his arms above his head, spreading his hands wide to cast the magic outwards. Elation filled him as he watched the rising power, the culmination of decades of dedication, flow up towards the clear blue sky, and from there to spread like a glowing blanket outwards over the city walls.

As the rising song began to fill the city with its tantalizing voice, as the spell first began to take hold upon the waiting masses, there came a moment of absolute silence. The sounds of daily life, of birds and the bustle of a busy city ceased in an instant.

No wizard had stilled his voice, and yet no sound issued from their upraised mouths. Even Cronius found himself unable to utter the slightest word. In rising panic he watched the fickle blanket of magic begin to waiver as the magic generating it failed.

He watched, helpless, while it collapsed in upon itself and came racing back towards the point from which it spawned. He watched, eyes wide, mouth working soundlessly, as the cloud of magic refocused into a singular beam, headed straight for his chest. He was brought to his knees as the bolt of blinding light struck him full in the chest. Pain consumed him as he fought in vain to stand, to see, to scream. 

Suddenly, the artificial silence lifted. The blindness assailing his eyes faded, but the return of sight only served to deepen his shock. Something had gone wrong, horribly wrong. He stared in abject horror at the pale marble floor of the Atrium Majora. Where had stood sixteen of his greatest wizards, his friends and colleagues, now lay sixteen neat piles of white ash.

His shock was cut short as screams filled the air. His eyes went upwards, to the open sky above. The spell had been long, and though they had started in daylight now the stars shown, brilliant and growing brighter with each moment, as if mocking his failure. Indeed, they were far brighter and larger than they had ever appeared before. It took him a long moment to realize the truth. 

The Colora, the artificial stars thousands of feet above the city, were hurtling downward. The stars were falling. No spell could stop them, even had he the time to sing one. He could only watch while destruction rained down upon his city. 

Alone, amid the drifting dust that was all that remained of those foolish enough to trust him, while his people died screaming for salvation, the Arch Magus Cronius collapsed to the floor, exhausted, and the world faded into darkness.