Wakane's Decision
General Summary
Wakane’s Decision
He listened to the band of idiots argue about what to do halfheartedly. Most days it seemed the Collective was nothing but a tug of war between its members, a contest Wakane had quickly realized he could do little to influence. Despite this, he genuinely cared for them. A rare thing for the bookish man.
“The island should be our priority – it is only our duty to follow up with the consequences of our actions,” Terra said. She looked worn, covered in dust and bloodstains from the leach that had attacked her, but otherwise immovable. As she was.
“The island? Are you dense? We need to get out of this storming desert.” The sea elf said. Wakane softly sighed. Yes, he did care for them. But they drove him quite mad most of the time.
“You buffoons! We just damn near begun our eternal voyage, and yet you wish to blow even more winds into your sails?” Endar Wa said. The party gave him a side glance, and then continued discussing over him. The Kender muttered to himself, shaking some sand out of his ears. Wakane felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He may be mad, and quite obnoxious, but despite this Wakane suspected the Kender held some well-intentioned wisdom within his ramblings. If only Endar knew that himself.
Wakane settled down on a particularly solid dune and pulled out his journal to pass the time. Yet, as he scanned the page for where he left off, he felt little interest in updating the small booklet.
He had been running around for the Academy as if he were still nothing but a Disciple Initiate, doing their dirty work. Betraying the trust of the people who so willingly adopted him into their dysfunctional group, if only with their natural sense of distrust. For what?
Years at the Academy and magic was still nothing but an elusive idea, just barely at his fingertips. He had followed the rules, studied zealously, and complied with every piece of protocol. Yet the Magius and the Masters, under the scrutiny of the Elders and the Archmagius himself, refused to yield an inch. To show him true magic. True power.
And right there, standing in front of him in the middle of the gods-forsaken desert, were a band of wildly magical people. A traveling cleric off his rocker who had walked the planes beyond Omiralon. A Sea Elf oozing magic from a scattered mind. An Elven Ranger, very clearly far from home, deeply connected to the magic of Omiralon. Multiple beings who could call upon their magic, do incredible things, without training. Without arduous constructions. Even a damn Werewolf, for Oli’val’s sake!
A blur in the distance shook Wakane out of his reverie. It was small, but quickly approaching the group. Before he had a chance to raise the alarm though, he recognized it as one of the messenger pigeons from the Academy.
Wakane stood up, brushing the sand off his frayed and battered red robe. He’d have to get Endar to mend that for him at some point. With practice confidence, Wakane raised an arm, holding it out in front of him perpendicular to the ground.
The pigeon swooped in, breaking its momentum with a few wing flaps and landing on his arm. For the Academy to send a messenger pigeon this far out, something important must have happened. As the pigeon raised its beak to his ear, Wakane felt his gut clench in anticipation.
“Wakane” the pigeon said in the gruff, condescending voice of the Archmagius. “After closely monitoring the situation with the Collective, the leadership at the Academy has deemed the Prophecy to be foul. These people are the equivalent of a toddler stumbling through a room full of porcelain, interfering with powers they cannot even begin to understand.
“Furthermore, the creature which was first seen inside the Obelisk which catalyzed this whole debacle has been spotted. The entire situation is spiraling out of control, and we can no longer put our trust in the Collective.
“You are to return to the Academy at once. The fate of Omiralon can longer rest in the hands of such feeble-minded beings. Our leadership has decided it is time to move past our role as spectators and put the power of the mages to good use. If we cannot stop what is coming, your ragtag group of rascals certainly won’t be able to either.
“Before you depart, ensure to put a tracking spell on the group. Their use of magic is vulgar and irresponsible, and we will have to send a group to…amend that. Farewell.”
Wakane felt uncharacteristically strong emotions course through him. Hypocrites. He thought. Flimsy, self-centered hypocrites. He was tired of seeing them act as the center of the world. But more than that, he was suddenly enraged at the disposition of the Academy. Did they believe they were suddenly the Gods of Omiralon? That they could police the world, choose its fate? He had had enough.
In one smooth movement, he launched the pigeon back towards the horizon, propelling it away. His robes billowed behind him, and he held the pose for a second.
Looking up, he found seven faces absolutely slack-jawed. Suddenly bashful, Wakane brought his arm back down and nervously smoothed his robes. Not that they could be smoothed very much in their current state.
“Lad!” Endar said. “You have been holding out on me, eh? It seems you are much more suave than I ever gave you credit for!” Wakane was chagrined, but Endar simply laughed to himself.
“What was that?” Terra, Scidrix, and Kiron said almost simultaneously. He looked from face to face, noticing Haenerys and Caifiel eyeing him suspiciously as well.
“Well, you see, it seems there have been some…developments.” Wakane started. “The creature which you encountered inside the first Obelisk has been sighted, and things are growing…complicated. This to no fault of your own, of course! But the Archmagius and the Elders are, uhm, doubting your capabilities, to put it lightly. They think the prophecy was mistaken.
“In short, the Archmagius no longer believes you can accomplish the task ahead of you. For the first time in centuries, he is mobilizing the mages of the Academy into the outside world, and things are going rapidly changing from this point on. Yet…”
Enough.
Wakane pulled out his journal again, flipped to the last page, and haphazardly scribbled a few words into it. As soon as the ink set, he saw the words char into the paper. In one smooth movement, he slammed it shut, and flung the journal as far as he could over a nearby dune. The faces around him watched, then looked back at him expectantly.
“To be candid with you friends, I have been keeping tabs on you per the Archmagius’ request. This ceases now, and I hope you will find it in your hearts to forgive me.
“The Academy may be mobilizing, but frankly, they do not know what they are up against. They will fail. I have spent the last few months traveling with you, witnessing your heroism. Prophecies may be beyond me, but I do know that this group that we have become, quirky as it may be, was formed for a reason. Be it divine intervention or a cruel joke by the Gods, there is a reason. So, I can say with certainty, that if you choose to pursue the Prophecy, I can put my full trust within you.”
As Wakane looked around at the faces, seeing different expressions, he felt the full weight of the implications to what he had just done. He felt drained.
Scidrix stepped up and addressed him first;
“Wakane, I really appreciate that, but we really have to leave this desert immediately.”
“You fish-brained elf, we were having a moment!” Endar chimed in. “Did you have to go and ruin it? Always tripping over your own to feet I swear – this is not…”
As other voices chimed in and the conversation devolved into its usual state, Wakane let himself slump to the ground.
All his time at the Academy, tossed in an instant. The thought was dizzying. He looked up at the bickering people around him, realizing that he had just entrusted everything to them. May Taeyun, Pheoluk, Oli’val, and the rest of Them protect us all, Wakane thought. If the world was to end, at least he would be right at the forefront of it all.
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