He was not alone, was he? As Salgier strained to reach out to his familiar, he sensed something else entirely — a light, distinct and enveloping. Amidst the oppressive force of the seal, a halo of illumination emerged, drawing near and wrapping around him. This light was familiar; it had been present during the battle, a distant observer that seemed to know his fate.
Perhaps it was the primal part of him, heightened by the edge of unconsciousness, that shattered the educated rationalisation of reality he had built upon his instincts and innate understanding of the world. Or perhaps it was the desperation of impending death that made him hope that whatever was with him was a conscious entity, neither sent by the Shaira nor allied with the orks. Whatever it was, he felt a profound sense of presence, a reassurance that he was not alone.
He would not leave this mountain, but perhaps his words could. He needed to unburden himself of the truths he had uncovered during his captivity. This was his last chance to reveal the sinister agenda of the Shaira. Wizards needed to know. Their plan to eradicate wizardry, to create a curse that stripped magic from wizards — it was a revelation that would irrevocably alter the future. He tried to speak to the light, he tried so desperately, but his body faltered under the weight of exhaustion.
Well, then, perhaps the light had come for this very moment, a beacon from legends that spoke of what lies beyond death. Salgier had never dwelled on such thoughts and theories, like many who understood the concept of mortality but could not truly grasp their own finality. He had heard about various beliefs, but never considered what his own final moments might entail. Now, he found himself yearning to believe in the light, to trust that it would guide him as he slipped away.
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