Alsherok

The agony was unbearable; it raced up from his burning hands, tracing a trail to the screaming nerve centers of his brain, demanding, insisting that he stop the ritual before he was too far gone. Yet, he persisted still, pouring more and more of his vital energy into the tiny Globe that he cradled between maimed hands. Crippled since his first magical fight that marked him as a Mage of Fire, he had grown adept at the usage of his heavily scarred and twisted hands, gently coaxing his fiery magic into the delicately beautiful Globes of his magic. But the Globe that he now cradled, sheltered, in his hands was by far the most entrancing Globe that he had ever created.

The usual deep crimson of his Globes had faded into a translucent shade of unbearably bright gold, interspersed with faintly glowing pinpricks of silver light, throwing out the most dazzlingly painful light to have ever crossed his eyes. Faintly, one could trace a stunning view of high, arcing volcanoes in the center of the Globe, pulsing with the characteristic fury of his Elemental Magic. The whole room seemed dim to his light-seared eyes, and each fraction of magical energy that he sunk into the Globe pulling harder upon his life-force. Almost beyond thought, he only concentrated on giving his final piece of work the very last essence of his Magic...

He knew that his magic was about to expire, leaving him in a painful husk upon the dry ground. But even as he cradled his final Globe, he felt the sweet uprush of Air Magic enter his Globe. He had no strength left, only the consuming task of pouring not just his magic, but pouring his whole soul into this potentially dangerous ritual...

Gently, she channeled her magic into the Globe that lay blazing in Aren's hands, first using her control of Air to enlarge the Globe, then to reshape the very image and essence of the Globe. With the melding of two Elemental Magics, the Globe took on a new shape...

The image of harshly graven volcanoes faltered for an instant, wavering at the intrusion of other Magics, then slowly reformed itself. Gradually, the volcanoes lost a little of their harshness, becoming more placid and subdued. From the swirling blackness that formed the backdrop, the sky lightened its color, paling from black to gray to a rich blue to a faint, yet pleasant shade of blue. Amongst the blue of sky rose small seeds of palest blue, growing in due course to form wispy clouds, throwing meager but heart-warming shadows upon the rocks.

The image fades away, replaced by the harsh realities of the real world. The beautiful Globe has lost a little luster, no longer pure fire-gold, yet undiluted in strength. In fact, it is only stronger than before, glowing subtly with shades of gold and luminous moonlight. The light is no longer so bright; instead, it takes on a softer glow, no longer uncontrolled, taking on aspects of tempered steel and power. Breathing is harder now, her lungs seemingly unable to grasp the very element that she controls, but she endeavors on. The Magic that she crafts has lost the beauty that she found in recreation, but there is another kind of fierce, proud joy this Conjuring gives her - the strong sense of righteousness in creating a place where purity of heart and mind can find sanctuary...

Aren's Fire Magic is almost spent, and in her agony, she spares a glance for the Mage that she loved from the bottom of her heart. Her love that she will follow into the other world as a price for what they believe is right. He manages a faint smile that spears its way directly into her heart even as they trade glances, then the demands of Magic pull her away into the whirling maelstrom of Air Magic.

The stream of Fire Magic is almost gone, what had been a band of pure unadulterated strength fading into a mere trickle; she senses it dimly, faintly from the long tunnel she seems to have journeyed upon. Even as she feels her own Magic pouring into the endless light that is the Globe, a steady strength bolsters her own, offering comfort, support, and tender care as long as its own strength that might last...

Subtle strands of Earth Magic entwine the two drained forms; faintly tangible touches of Magic to their minds that give soothing comfort. Their minds come back to him, silently offering thanks and quiet reassurance, urging him to redirect his powers to the cause that had pulled them all together. He loosens his Magic from them, gently pulling the Globe from his long-time friend's hands into his own. Aren gladly gives up the Globe, its shape floating towards the Mage of Earth, to come to rest gently above the Earth Mage's left shoulder.

With surprisingly gentle strands of Magic, he enfolds the Globe with his strength, adding on new layers to its faceted Elemental Magic. Patiently, with the strength of a thousand men, yet his Magic falls in gentle leaves to sheathe the Globe completely. The Globe, strengthened by Earth Magic, glows deeply for an instant, then, all light from the Globe fades away, leaving a darkly pulsing mass. The layers of dark Earth Magic have obscured the image within the Globe, and it pauses an instant above the broad shoulder of Fersh. In a sudden explosion, light breaks through the outer layer of dark Magic, casting utterly away the encasing Earth. But within, the image has changed...

High mountains now surround the volcanoes, and deeply fissured earth lies at the bottom of these marvels of slate and crag. Towering steeply above the earth itself, its peak seems amongst the clouds and heavy mist that obscure the upper edge of the image. The earth has lost its harsh, grating black color, softened by tumultuous shades or rich, verdant brown, marked, even, in some places, with pale sand and dried grass. The Globe too, now begins to glow with a honeyed gold, faintly giving out luminous streaks of quivering, silvered moonlight. Strength and power exude from the Globe in the tangible taste of Magic in the air. It is but lacking one final Element...

Ketyrs summons her Magic, the power and control of Water, and through it, Life. Her Magic, the most clearly visible to all, flows from her hands as streams of trembling blue fire that swirls endlessly. Reaching out, it gathers the pulsing mass of magic with Magic hands, floating it a scant three feet above the cracked ground. Her Magic leaps forth in an arc of rich power, forming a pillar of pure Water Magic that completely engulfs the Globe. There is a sudden inrush of power, and the pillar fades, paling into translucence and then fading away into nothingness.

Grass springs up, rich, vibrantly green and everlastingly beautiful, to cover the once cracked and dry ground. Dead grass is revived, thrusting up in powerful blades, and wildflowers are once again abloom with fervor. Out of a crack in the mountain, clear and pure water flows forth, spurting into the dry stream-bed. The stream flows once again, racing with utter swiftness towards the edge of the cliff. A sudden pause, then the rich and satisfying sound of cascading water reaches ones ears...

Her voice sounds in each head, "The power of Creation has been recreated at our hands, to forge, to uphold the Light that is the core of the Universe as we understand It. We give our lives in this recreation, because only the Gods may create and live in perpetuity." The other voices, faintly murmur agreement, lending her support. "And thus, let us complete the Ritual which will bring Life to that which we Desire. Let what is Within, become Without."

There is a hollow ringing sound as if a deep-toned bell has been rung, the sound arcing above their heads, rising with the currents of the wind as if to touch the very sky. Then the silence falls, heavy, poised for some minuscule action to shake the poignant tension. Then there is a light-blinding explosion. There is no sound to hear, only the screaming of loosed Elemental Magic that echoes endlessly in their heads, and the dried and dead world around them blossoms into a fury of change...

With the last of their energy and Magic, the four Mages had sought to rectify the errors of their past, the years of warring that had left the Earth scarred beyond repair. But with this tiny sacrifice, it was hoped that the Gods would take pity on their fragmented world and restore the Ages of Peace. But for now, there exists a tiny little sanctuary for all.