# **The Final Confrontation**  

“Gale… w-we found it! We found immortality!” Cavreign’s voice trembled with a strange mix of excitement and desperation, his hands trembling as he clutched an artifact pulsating with eerie green light.  

“At what cost, Cavreign?” Gale’s voice was low, each word cutting like the blade at his side.  

“What?” Cavreign blinked, his grin faltering.  

“At. What. Cost,” Gale growled, his eyes locking onto his brother’s. “Do you even *understand* what you’ve done? Do you even *remember*?”  

“Wh-what? Oh, the mortals? That’s… that’s nothing.” Cavreign waved a dismissive hand, the words tumbling out too quickly. “A few hundred lives, maybe, but imagine—imagine what we can achieve with this power, Gale! We can *save*—”  

“NO!” Gale’s roar echoed through the chamber, cutting through his brother’s manic rambling. “You’re *wrong*! This isn’t salvation. This isn’t what we were working for!”  

He drew his sword, the enchanted blade igniting with a rich, violent purple flame. The light danced in the shadows of the room, casting Cavreign’s features into sharp relief.  

“This… this power has changed you, brother. Twisted you into something you’re not.”  

“Gale.” Cavreign’s voice softened, almost pleading. “A few hundred now is insignificant compared to what we can do with eternity. Think of the lives we’ll save—the wars we can stop, the sicknesses we can cure. A brighter future is worth—”  

“*Worth what?!*” Gale’s voice cracked, raw with pain. “Every single life is sacred. Every death you caused is a tragedy—a *failure* of everything we stood for!”  

The words seemed to strike something deep within Cavreign. For a moment, his shoulders sagged, and he bowed his head.  

“I’m sorry, brother,” Cavreign murmured. “But you’ve let your heart blind you. You act without seeing the greater picture. Without understanding the cost of doing nothing.”  

“Wha—” Gale started to respond, but a sudden, searing green glow erupted from the shadows behind Cavreign. The spell surged forward like a serpent, coiling around Gale before he could react.  

The magic lashed at him, binding his limbs, encasing his body in glimmering chains of energy. His struggles were futile as the spell dragged him toward a dark, jagged metal object in the center of the room.  

“Cavreign!” Gale’s voice turned hoarse, a mix of rage and betrayal. “What are you *doing?!*”  

“I’m sorry,” Cavreign said, his voice hollow. “But this world can’t afford to be led by your heart. You’ll understand in time.”  

The magic flared brighter, and with a final surge, Gale’s form collapsed into the artifact, his soul bound within its cold, unfeeling core.  

---

## **The Aftermath**  

Centuries later, Cavreign would stand before the world as the savior who had sealed a god of chaos and destruction inside the artifact—a lie he told to protect his actions. His magic, now revered as life-giving and healing, became a symbol of hope for countless generations.  

But in his quietest moments, alone in the sanctuaries of his ever-expanding temples, Cavreign could still feel the faint presence within the artifact. Gale’s voice was distant, like a whisper carried on the wind.  

And it always asked the same question.  

*“At what cost, Cavreign?”*  
