The power of the mask sought dominance.
It wanted either to give commands or to be given them.
It wanted sweeping gestures and world-shaping decisions.
The Yellow Mage's own instincts ran in the opposite direction.
He wanted to brew medicine by the spoonful, repair cracked bones one at a time.
He wanted to help villages, not empires.
In no way would it magnify his wisdom or help him achieve his goals.
He simply did not want its power.
He covered the mask with a cloth and rested one hand lightly upon it.
It was finished.
The thought should have brought satisfaction, but it had not.
Repairing the mask had been his part, and it had been the easy one.
What came next was entirely out of his control.
The Yellow Mage lifted the mask carefully with both hands.
Even covered, it carried a presence that seemed to bend the room around it.
The cloth did little to conceal its power.
He left the workshop without another glance behind him.
His steps were just a little too hurried as he crossed the tower.
The Dread Mage's daughter was staring out the window.
The evening sun painted the hills gold.
She turned as he entered.
Her eyes immediately settled upon what he carried, and she waited until he spoke.
The Yellow Mage crossed the room and laid the covered mask carefully upon the table between them.
He did not remove the cloth.
"I've finished."
Sonder looked at the outline beneath the linen.
Even hidden, the contours of the face were unmistakable.
She said nothing.
"The rest," the Yellow Mage continued, "is your choice. I have taken this as far as I can. I cannot use the mask's power. Its magic and mine disagree on almost every principle imaginable. We would make very poor partners. I cannot decide what should be done with it.
You gathered great power. You resisted its influence for a very long time. You understand what it is, and perhaps more importantly, you understand what it might cost to use it.
I have done everything within my ability to keep your father alive and to repair the mask. Now I have reached the limits of what my gifts and skills allow.
There is nothing else I can do."
Sonder slowly approached the table.
She stopped within arm's reach and stared at the mask for a long time.
Not with longing.
Not with fear.
Only with the solemn recognition one reserves for something that could shape the rest of one's life.
She had traveled for so long to gather all the pieces, and now, at last, they were whole.
Resting only an arm's length away.
Yet somehow, standing before the completed mask felt far more daunting than anything else she had ever faced.