Himself. He had become himself, as he was meant to be. Perhaps Laurel was right and he could not escape his destiny. The Magic Emperor had been born at last. And it had filled Ghaleon with a sort of excitement. He felt giddy, and looked at things with a new light, as if he had never seen them before. And with the drinking of the draught he and Xenobia had prepared, their pact was sealed, and she would aid him. Her blood now flowed in his veins as well as his own. But now all he could feel was a twinge of regret.
Ghaleon was riding his massive cat out on the path from Nanza to the Fountain of Transmission to Vane. His meeting with Xenobia had ended a week and a half before. He had resealed the fountain leading into the Frontier and was finished with his visit with Damon. Now he was going home. Both he and his cat were weary, and he had received word that Lemia was going to be appointed guildmaster tomorrow. It was a day he did not want to miss.
His cat tossed his head as he plodded down the path. They were two weary travelers, and for the moment Ghaleon wished they were nothing more than that. If only he could truly ride off to another world and forget everything that had transpired, but fate would never be so easy. Dyne's death had complicated his life, and that was beyond his control.
Ghaleon looked up and saw the floating city of Vane on its orbit around the Goddess Tower. What would Lemia think if she knew what he had done? What would Mia think? The poor girl. He wished that he didn't have to turn her world upside down to right a wrong he felt had been committed, but he could see no other way. Something had to be done.
The forests he loved would run red with blood, and innocents would die. Was getting rid of Althena really for the better? It was for the greater good, just as she had once done. But perhaps once she was gone, such sacrifices would no longer be necessary. Why must one man die to save the lives of many? It's good for those that live, but does it make a difference to the one who dies? Either way he's still dead. Oh, it does a bit of good. But why should a goddess have to rely on a man anyway? Couldn't she had simply struck the insane dragon dead so that Dyne may have lived?
Ghaleon tried to ignore the doubts he carried with him, and he knew that eventually he would have to leave them behind if he was to succeed in his mission. He could not let himself turn back. The hard years since Dyne's death had made Ghaleon a desperate man. The Vile Tribe wasn't the best choice of allies, but there was so much that had to be done, so much that this world would have to give up so that Althena's wrong may be righted. So much needed to be done, and it was best to put it behind him. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.
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