Chapter Text
Some wizards, those old enough to have lived longer than could be considered reasonable, became flippantly dismissive about the weight of time.
But they were still creatures of time, experiencing time linearly and, for the most part, consistently. Whether or not they had lived for one or a billion years, a year was still a year. Objectively, it did not pass by any quicker or slower based on subjective experience.
And so no matter what those old wizards may said;
1000 years was a very long time.
There was a lot one could achieve in a thousand years. Even on a galactic scale. Especially, if one happened to be a wizard. Even more so if one happened to be a wizard of four and able to dedicate all their focus and parts to one singular goal.
He had done very well
Deimon Five, on the outskirts of the great galactic Empire of Fife, had been the first planet to turn desperate. As with many firsts, its cry for help was met with all the help the planet would have needed to survive its environmental crisis.
It had started with a strange bacteria, utterly harmless to the population, which had caused a dramatic decrease in a specific anemone common in the northern seas. It had been really unspectacular. Sea biologist had noticed, nobody else really paid attention. Until it caused the near extinction of several species a little while later but even that barely got the attention of the general population. It would be fine .
It would have been, if not for the change in power production a hundred years prior affecting the oceans currents. And then, brought on by a chain reaction deemed impossible, within thirty years Deimon Five's seas had turned toxic.
The empire sent scientists and medical personnel, as well as food and medicine. D5's population was given the chance to relocate though not many did, believing the planet would be healthy again one day. The great empire spared no resources in the relief efforts, adamant to not force the people to leave, and certain that indeed, things would be fine again.
It could have. If not for the civil unrest on Galapago turning hostile at the unlimited show of compassion towards D5 while their own population struggled under the strict regime of the provisional government (which had been provisional for almost 10 years already after the Incident which had killed all of the previous one due to unrest seeded almost 40 years prior).
Galapago had once been important. Not anymore. Until extremists, under the banner of the Galapean Unit, crashed a freighter posing as a relief ship into the VS Henshin - a relief ship out of Sol System. Then Galapago had been suddenly extremely important again.
Advised to take swift action the provisional government of Galapago was replaced by another provisional government - but in reality it was Earth taking over the settled world. Military as well as political staff was sent to Galapago, to take care of the extremist elements. Firm action, showing strength and decisiveness. But also a sign of an overbearing central government causing tense disapproval in several other systems. But then, many had still believed that Earth would manage to establish a new, now functioning government and establish safe trade routes again.
It could have.
If it wouldn't have been for the genetic defects caused by a pandemic on Tul 150 years ago.
If it wouldn't have been for the pirate faction breaking of Zoltan A almost 600 years ago which led to the loss of the Cyric Systems.
If it wouldn't have been for the horrible accident on Rembran.
Or the ruined relations of the empire to their sister galaxy Darksong.
Or the other hundred and one seemingly isolated events having transpired within the empire within the last couple hundred years.
Hundreds of singular threats all weaving together - and what a magnificent pattern of misery they created.
The year was 1991. And the entire empire was at war. Some with itself. Some with factions outside of it. And earth's resources were spread thin. There were too many people in need, and too little resources left to help. Too many fronts to defend. Too much desperation, caught in a deadly spiral of ever increasing escalation.
And the wizards?
Absent. Careful. Uncaring. Knowing.
They knew the prophecies. The real ones, and those just heard in rumours. For hundreds of years they had lifted them up, a fleeting interest sparked by the one Hammer of Glory finding its owner on that one earth. But ever since the passage of time had whispered to them. Speaking of death and destruction.
They knew all this would crumble. So why bother. It was a lost cause. And maybe it just happened because they let it happen. Maybe that too was part of the prophecies.
Just on Earth and Luna the wizards still held on. But even those were abandoned by the nonessential wizards, portal by portal. For a while, Sol System had been one of the most populated and well defended systems by wizard standards. But not anymore. It had been a fad, a fancy, a short lived interest ready to be put aside and forgotten. If the rumours were true, they even considered extraction of their most valuable asset in this galaxy.
But that decision had not been made yet, and with all of earth's towers there were still a lot more Wizards on earth than on most other planets, but it paled to its former glory. He could only imagine how desolated those halls must feel by now.
Quadirymir tore his eyes from the massive array of news and update feets. Casualty numbers, struggling relief efforts, propaganda - Images of pain and helplessness. He knew, objectively based on "normal" conventions, that it was… sad? Yes, sad was probably the right word. Or tragic. Either way, he was under no impression that what he was doing here was for benevolent purposes or a greater good. But, it made him happy.
He had to assume it had not been an intentional feature of his creation and the core values he had been given, but he had always been smart enough to not let anyone notice once he had realised it himself. Because wizards with "defects" like this usually didn't live very long.
But here he was, alive and well, and the joy he felt was real. He liked doing it, he was really good at it, and nobody was there to stop him. It was an enjoyable existence.
The content smile on his face lingered as he left the operations centre node of the Dark Citadel.
He walked down to the Halls of Creation in a leisurely stroll - because he was in absolutely no hurry. That would come soon enough. One last trigger to pull, and everything was set for a grand finale.
The halls were mostly abandoned. Most of the Dark Citadel was by now. He was good at a lot of things, but keeping people around wasn't one of them, he'd admit that any day. That's why Zargothrax had been so useful, as had been Atladin before him. No matter how childishly hot-headed Quadirymir thought the old wizard to be, he somehow managed to inspire loyalty to a cult-like extent. Unfortunately, that loyalty had not magically transferred to him as Zargothrax had been defeated and trapped on Triton. Instead, that rat Zargothrax had titled his second in command, Tharon'zul, had taken their ships and those most loyal to Zargothrax and had disappeared into the darkness between the stars. Maybe it was better this way. A fresh start without the riff raff.
Quadirymir came to a well protected set of doors, magic and curse as well as good old metal and steel reinforced the small room behind. It hadn't been opened for a thousand years. And no one on the Citadel even still knew what - or whom - was inside. Just one of thousands of storage blocks, having vanished in the array, with no reference to its existence.
Unlocking all the different locks, mechanical and magical alike, took the better part of a minute before the door slid open with a soft hiss.
And there he was.
Zargothrax.
Or well, what should be a Part of Zargothrax at least.
This was his Warrior. Zargothrax' insane and risky backup plan. He had rebuilt this part while the Warrior had been still alive. Which was insanely dangerous, risky and came with very real side effects to the active part - but that wizard was insane after all.
With the Warrior before him, being already fully initialised, Quadirymir could have simply disabled Zargothrax at any point while his other Warrior was still alive. Just wake this Part up and let the critical error of double parting take care of the rest. Luckily enough, Zargothrax' death really would be pointless - currently as much as back then. He couldn't really control him, not the way he wanted to, but Zargothrax was still an extremely useful and powerful tool at his disposal.
Quadirymir had been under firm order to wake this Part in the eventuality the Warrior might not survive the bombastic grand opening of the occupation of earth. In Quadirymir's estimation it had been more of a "when" than an "if", actually.
Well, as he had expected the Warrior had indeed died.
And Quadirymir had done nothing but taken the Dark Citadel and gone radio silent. Just watching the events on earth unfold. Because he had been the only one seeing clearly in that moment. If he had woken the Warrior up chances would have been good to inevitable that he would have lost both parts of Zargothrax in the pursuit of this senseless endeavour. And he wouldn't lose an asset this valuable to the romanticised idea of ultimate power that would free them all. The whole harnessing the power of the solar conjunction part surely would have worked, Quadirymir had no doubt about that, the science and magic behind it was solid. It was everything Zargothrax had wanted to do with that power afterwards that was insane and utter nonsense that would have only gotten him killed. So Quadirymir had cut him off at the kneecaps, so to speak, when he had the chance to do so.
He had not expected the Hammer of Glory to become active. And that could have gotten horribly wrong. Luckily, as heroes of that kind tend to be, mercy had been shown.
And so Zargothrax' Wizard had been defeated, captured, and hung out as bait. He had expected that. It was a set up he could work with.
And so, well calculated, Quadirymir had done nothing and waited for the dust to settle before getting to work. The lifeless body of the Warrior lay as unmoving before him as it had been a thousand years ago. But now he had engineered this whole galaxy into a position where rescuing Zargothrax was no longer a suicide mission, but a very real possibility with a chance of success. All that was missing was that one final trigger to pull. And this was it.
He gave the panel to the side of the work table a light touch and momentarily the entire slab lit up brightly.
And his eyes lay focused on the unmoving face. Waiting. Expecting. He could barely imagine the shock about to go through that wizard's neural network. It would hurt. Preventively he cut himself off from his other Parts - this could become dangerous. Depending on how bad it would be. He knew that anger within this wizard well - he'd only needed to redirect it away from himself.
The light glimmer shot through the Warrior's body, the ancient markings lit up brightly, then the pitch black eyes glowed intensely.
As it faded he made a step back without taking his eyes away from Zargothrax.
For a second he just blinked - and then…. There it was. A smile twitched on Quadirymir's lips.
A hard gasp went through the Warrior's body, like jolted by electricity his upper body shot up, his breath suddenly hard and quick. Utter confusion and unbearable pain in his face as the reunification shock coursed through his body. One hand grasped for anything, some hold, something to escape the memories crashing down on him. A pain filled shout as he almost collapsed onto himself, curled over his legs as if his entire body was set aflame and hurting.
He stumbled as he tried to stand up, staggering in his stance, his hand lost in trying to find hold, shaking. Then he collapsed onto his knees, fists tight on the metal floor. Another roar of disorientated suffering as he bent over - but there was no getting away from his own body and mind.
Or well, there was. Because then there was a flash of light, a slow pulse below Zargothrax' face - and Quadirymir knew he had just cut himself off from his Wizard again. An act of desperate self-preservation, as the memories flooding his mind were just too much to bear.
Then there was silence. Just the hard breaths in the room. Zargothrax curled onto his knees on the floor, forehead resting on his fists. His whole body was still trembling.
Quadirymir felt a sting of dismay. He'd have thought it to last longer. That Zargothrax would have lost himself, at least for a little while, in that horrible existence.
"Welcome back," Quadirymir muttered, barely concealing his disappointment.
It was like first now Zargothrax even realised he was there in the room with him. It was probably true.
Zargothrax looked up, another hard breath in his lungs and raging fury in the black eyes.
"You…" a dangerously low growl as he pushed himself up.
"I know you're angry but believe me it was for your own good. You can thank me later," Quadirymir said chidingly, opening up his arms. Zargothrax was coming closer. The look on his face was hard and drawn by impossible anger. "Once you cooled off some."
He had barely finished the words when Zargothrax suddenly disappeared for only a split second before his eyes, reappearing straight in front of him quicker than he could have reacted and Zargothrax' fist crashed into his face. There was a deafening crack shattering through his head, an intense wave of warning pain while he fell back and onto the floor.
His sight jittered slightly, and yet he kept his eyes glued on Zargothrax from the moment he opened his eyes again.
"You were supposed to wake me!" Zargothrax shouted at him, looking down at him, his fists trembling as Quadirymir noticed. In his face was more than anger, a sense of betrayal too - he was surprised to see it there as much as it was delightful.
"And I did. Look, you're alive and walking, aren't you?" Quadirymir wiped off some of the dark blood from his face. Most of his jaw was shattered, making his words sound a bit more loose and his smile lopsided. "Wait!" He quickly said as Zargothrax twitched. "You don't see it yet but it was the only way to keep you alive! The moment you died casting that spell, the whole operation was doomed to fail and you know it! Especially with the hammer in the mix! But you would have thrown this one against that wall too and both parts of you would have been captured or died."
"How long?"
"A thousand years, give or take." Quadirymir pushed himself back up meeting Zargothrax' infuriated anger without any sense of fear. Just his gaze jumped across Zargothrax' face and posture, soaking in all the signs of distress. "But it was necessary-" he winced back when Zargothrax' fists were twitching again, seemingly barely able to hold back the destructive violence he longed for right in this moment. To be honest he was surprised to be even still alive.
" Necessary ?" Zargothrax hissed through clenched teeth. Quadirymir knew he was one wrong word away from getting viciously killed. Not that it would achieve much, but he saw that Zargothrax didn't care. He wanted him dead right at that moment.
"I kept you from doing something rash and very stupid. Your Wizard is alive, and he is out there, and they have been waiting for you. You would have walked into that prison and they would have killed both of you. You know that. But you would have done it anyway. Just to stop …this." Quadirymir examined Zargothrax' face closely. Behind the anger he could see it - the pain and torture burning in his memories as his other part was kept alive and frozen.
"They were watching very closely. For a long time. But not anymore." Quadirymir smiled. His face still hurt but it was getting better already.
"What do you mean?" Finally the Warriors' anger seemed to settle. At least enough to hear what Quadirymir was saying.
"They are looking elsewhere now. They build an empire on your defeat - but that empire is crumbling now. They are looking for the enemy everywhere - but no longer on Triton."
"Triton…"
"They have become complacent in their arrogance. They can't imagine anyone able to endure this for this long. But what is a thousand years for a wizard like you?" his grin widened with malicious joy. "We can make you whole again."
He met Zargothrax' eyes, and he saw in his face that he realised that he was set on a path to do something Quadirymir wanted him to do. Zargothrax, surprisingly enough, always saw straight through him. Realised immediately when he was being manipulated.
But there was one very important lesson one had to consider when setting out to manipulate anyone really. And that was, that people were more likely to do something, if they were already set on the path to do it anyways and just needed a last push.
Their eyes met for a long and quiet moment, Zargothrax’ breath was still hard, but the tension in his fists had loosened. Quadirymir had wondered when the right moment would be, and he tentatively doubted this was it, this could be extremely dangerous - but it might also be just the right amount of goodwill needed.
"To aid you on this perilous rescue mission, I have something for you," Quadirymir exclaimed like it was Zargothrax' birthday and he had just forgotten about it. "To make up for all this. I assure you, even if you may doubt me now, your well being is in my best interest too."
"What is it?" Zargothrax squinted his eyes with raised suspicion.
Quadirymir raised a finger chidingly as to tell him to be patient. His eyes lit up for a moment as he deemed the risk of Zargothrax's anger having calmed enough and he connected back to his other parts. Then a swirl of light and dark appeared next to them, a chaos teleport, and within the blink of an eye another part of Quadirymir appeared. The young woman held a rectangular and flat box.
The very moment Zargothrax already knew. Quadirymir saw it in the way his eyes jumped from the box to his eyes and back. It didn't need to be told to him what it was because he would feel it. Finally, after millennia, it had been returned to him.
"You had it… the entire time?" A strained pitch coloured Zargothrax' words. Barely contained anger flared up within every syllable.
"I kept it safe. For the right moment," Quadirymir said chipper as he opened the box - revealing the Knife of Evil.
"And this is the right moment?" Zargothrax hissed. Quadirymir, still holding the box, shrugged slightly.
"Probably not. But it might give you a fighting chance in what's to come." Of course he was framing it with ultimately altruistic motives, but in truth that blasted thing was starting to get on his nerves. Since Kilchoan he had tried everything, literally everything, to get this cursed knife to work. But no matter what he did, in his hands it was nothing more than an ordinary knife.
So he might as well gave it back to the one wizard who could actually wreak some havoc with it.
Then, not without glaring at him with a look that spoke of fury and murder, Zargothrax took the knife.
And preemptively Quadirymir made a generous step back with both his present parts. He was aware that he had basically armed the wizard equivalent of a nuclear warhead and there was a good chance he would need to teleport out of here to avoid the detonation and make sure to never cross Zargothrax' path again in the future.
The cold glow enveloped Zargothrax' hand and suddenly he looked calm. Almost at peace as his gaze rested on the knife in his hand.
Then his eyes darted up, Quadirymir actually flinched back a bit more, for the first time now an unsteady smile twitched on his lips. Every atom of his being was ready to teleport out of here at the first sign of attack. The next seconds would show if he had calculated correctly - or if he had just signed his own death warrant. Because with that knife, Zargothrax could actually kill him. Right here. Right now.
The last time they had their standoff in exactly this constellation, back in Kilchoan, even with the knife, Zargothrax had stood no chance against him. But now the same power that had been Quadirymir's advantage back then coursed through Zargothrax' veins as well. And he was so much more powerful.
But then Zargothrax simply walked past him "Get Tharon'zul to ready the Dawnbreak. I'll be in my quarters."
"Zargothrax-" Quadirymir started, drawing out the word with a sigh, taking it as a good sign he wasn't dead yet, but a truthful answer to this question might change the odds on that. "It's been a thousand years. They are not here."
Zargothrax had stopped, glaring at him. Quadirymir made sure to keep a good and proper distance between them as he continued, every word dripping in contempt making it clear that this one most definitely wasn't his fault. "That rat of yours took your fleet and bolted. Unless you have a way of contacting him I'm not aware of, your ship is gone."
Zargothrax' eyes narrowed. "Did he now?"
To Quadirymir's surprise, Zargothrax didn't seem very angry about the revelation that that menace had basically stolen his ship. If anything he seemed thoughtful. So he had a way of contacting him - at least in theory.
He needed to keep an eye on that.