A Hard Choice

by Luke Thomas

Dear Diary,

The glow of the wish was intoxicating, a golden light promising the impossible. But the Valley of Heroes doesn't surrender its prizes easily.

We crept closer to the pedestal, searching for a riddle, a catch, some ancient test we had missed. A voice, deep as grinding tectonic plates, boomed through the chamber: *"Only those untouched by evil may approach."*

Before I could even process the words, a colossal thunderwave blasted from the statue. The sheer concussive force lifted me off my feet and slammed me into the mosaic floor. Everything went dark. I woke up to the bitter, metallic taste of a healing potion and Hayley’s concerned face hovering above me.

We scoured the room. Dadroz found giant-sized secret doors, but no riddle. No hidden key. The lock was literal. *Untouched by evil.*

Hayley cast *Nondetection* on Alistan, hoping to blind the statue's magical sensors, and he walked forward. As his hands closed around the cold gold of the lamp, the voice boomed again, accusing him of thievery. The shockwave hit, rippling the air itself, but Alistan—stubborn, unyielding Alistan—braced himself. He fought the stone grip of the statue, muscles straining against ancient magic, and wrenched the lamp free. He tossed it to me.

I rubbed the gold.

Fire erupted, coalescing into the towering form of a Djinn. She introduced herself as Marrake Al’Sidan. The air grew stiflingly hot, smelling of ozone and burning spices.
I spoke my wish clearly, leaving no room for malicious interpretation: "I wish to be able to attune to four items of my choosing simultaneously."

She smiled, a flash of white teeth against living flame, and snapped her fingers. “It is done."

Just like that. No ring required. The arcane pathways in my mind shifted, expanding to accommodate the impossible power of the four Elemental Hearts.

We asked what she wanted. She admitted she couldn't grant another wish for a year, and didn't care where we left her lamp. But, she added with a fiery glint in her eye, she wouldn't mind if we broke it.
Alistan and Liliana didn't hesitate. They brought their swords down in a synchronized, divine *Smite*. The ancient gold cracked, then exploded in a blinding flash of holy light. Marrake laughed, genuinely surprised. She thanked us, vowed to return in exactly a year to grant us another wish, and vanished into the ether.

We teleported back to Tarn, likely leaving a very angry pantheon of dead giants behind us.
I immediately sent a *Sending* to Amarra, telling her I had solved the attunement problem without her ring. Then, I took the Elemental Heart of Water from Hayley. As I attuned to it, a tidal wave of knowledge crashed into my mind—currents, pressure, the freezing depths. I am now bound to the elements of Fire, Earth, and Water. One remains.

The next day, I spoke with Amarra. I told her my decision: I will use the ritual to *restore* the barrier around Keralon, not to permanently seal the Feywild away. She pressed me, asking why I wouldn't end the threat forever. I told her the truth—it's too risky. The unintended consequences of severing two intertwined planes could be catastrophic, even factoring in Ulther’s inevitable retaliation. I asked if she had a plan to rescue the imprisoned knights to bolster our forces. She didn't, but promised to consult her library. I even lent her my apprentice, Anna, to help.

Meanwhile, Alistan had a theory about Feyris. The man's sudden surge in power—growing plants, commanding beasts—was too profound. Alistan suggested Feyris wasn't just a magically gifted refugee; he thought he might be Myrrdin, the legendary druid, suffering from amnesia.

It sounded absurd, but Feyris had recently described a dream of a comfortable, furnished cave. It perfectly matched the hidden sanctum we found years ago, the one guarded by constructs programmed to obey Myrrdin. It was a simple test.

We teleported to the cave.
Immediately, we found fresh tracks—a humanoid wearing flat shoes, arriving within the last day. The entrance was laced with tiny, hidden rune-traps that Dadroz and Gael carefully dismantled.

As we stepped inside, Feyris muttered that the air felt familiar. We found one of the guardian nagas dead, its scales scorched by recent fire. The large statues animating the entrance were heavily damaged. As we approached, one spoke, remembering us from our peaceful visit years ago. It reported that an intruder had breached the inner sanctum.

Alistan pushed Feyris forward. "We may have found your master."

The statue took one look at Feyris and knelt, the stone grinding in submission. It apologized for failing to stop "Anaya" from stealing the sanctum's treasures.

Feyris closed his eyes. A shockwave of psychic energy blasted through the cavern, making my teeth ache. When he opened his eyes, they were ancient.
He remembered. He *was* Myrrdin.

He thanked us, but his tone was heavy. He released the bound spirits within the statues, granting them peace. He confirmed that while he opposes a fey King ruling Keralon, his own power is inextricably linked to the Feywild and ancient pacts. He warned me, specifically, against mastering elemental magic, calling it the raw essence of creation—too much power for one mortal soul. It corrupts, he said.

We searched the ruined sanctum. We found a few scattered scrolls—Chromatic Orb, Zephyr Strike, Call Lightning—and an Orb of Time. The library was a wreck, books on elemental magic torn and burnt.

Then, Alistan called us outside.
Amarra was standing there.

Feyris—Myrrdin—looked at her with a hatred that chilled the air.
And then, the truth dropped like an anvil. Amarra wasn't just my mentor. She was Anaya. She was a figure of legend. She was the one imprisoned in this cavern for a century.

I was stunned. The foundation of my magical education, the woman I trusted above almost anyone, had lied to me about everything.

They started arguing immediately. Myrrdin claimed he only wanted to protect the city, while Anaya was consumed by ambition. Myrrdin’s apprentice, it turned out, had killed Anaya’s son. The history between them was a tangled, bloody knot.

Liliana finally shouted them down.
Amarra turned to us, her eyes hard. It was an ultimatum. We had to choose: the path of elemental magic with her, or the path of fey magic with Myrrdin. She claimed she had found a distraction powerful enough to help us free the knights, but only if we sided with her.

Myrrdin countered, offering alliances with rebel fey to fight Ulther. He reiterated his warning about elemental magic. He argued that the Amarra we knew was a fabrication, that we didn't truly know the woman standing before us.

The debate tore us apart. Ileas, a fey himself, vehemently opposed Amarra’s plan to sever the planes. Liliana and Gael pleaded for a middle ground, refusing to deal in absolutes.

I fought for her. I argued, I pleaded. The magic in my veins is *hers*. I look up to her. But I was fighting a losing battle, and I knew it. Her secrecy, her extreme measures, her hidden identity... she had dug her own grave in the eyes of my friends. If the roles were reversed, if Myrrdin had been the one who had deliberately hidden identity, we would have sided with Amarra in a heartbeat.

But then Hayley spoke against her.
And that was it. I will argue with my friends, I will debate tactics, but I will not wage war against my twin sister. When forced to choose between Amarra and Hayley, there is no choice at all.

Hayley offered Myrrdin a month to formulate an alternative plan. Amarra scoffed. She refused to even entertain the idea of working alongside him.

She looked at me one last time, a look of profound disappointment. Then, she broke our alliance. She turned her back on us and walked away.

I have three Elemental Hearts beating in my chest, the power of a djinn's wish in my mind, and I have never felt so entirely empty.

— Luke

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A Hard Choice

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