In the Bamboo Forest Tea Room of Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One sat serenely on a bamboo mat, pouring tea for Lockhart who sat opposite her.
Lockhart didn't touch his tea. Instead, he gazed at the Supreme Sorcerer and asked softly, "Master Supreme, when do you plan to depart? Is there anything I can do for you?" Though his voice remained calm, an unmistakable heaviness permeated his tone.
The Ancient One filled her own cup, raised it, and drank the tea in a single swallow.
"I have one month remaining," she replied gently. "Do as you see fit. Don't concern yourself with me—focus on what you must accomplish." She offered a reassuring smile. "Since I've entrusted Kamar-Taj to you, you must have confidence in yourself."
Lockhart nodded without speaking. In truth, he had always deeply respected this elder. She had taught and guided him without reservation. Though she had her own motives, he harbored little resentment—if he had truly objected, no amount of persuasion from the Ancient One would have swayed him.
Now, watching his mentor prepare to distance herself from him completely to become an eternal Holy Spirit, he felt a peculiar emptiness.
Of course, serving the eternal creation gods of the multiverse was a privilege many deities could only dream of. With eternity as one's patron, few dangers remained. Yet despite these advantages, Lockhart knew the Ancient One was profoundly reluctant in her heart.
He would feel the same in her position. After fighting against gods for so long, to ultimately serve the supreme deity and become its disciple seemed a cruel irony. What was that, if not defeat?
If Lockhart could escape such a fate, he would never willingly become the believer or servant of any god. Without autonomy, what remained of the self?
If the Ancient One truly became the Holy Spirit of Eternity, then should Eternity wish to attack Earth, the Ancient One would be compelled to participate in the assault. She could not refuse—she could only accept, perhaps even with manufactured joy. Becoming a Holy Spirit meant complete surrender, body and soul.
How could one possibly remain true to oneself under such circumstances? At best, she would become another entity with her memories, retaining perhaps some echo of her emotional influences. In Lockhart's view, if one couldn't escape such a fate, there was little difference between that and death itself.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Lockhart hesitated, preparing to speak. Before he could voice his thoughts, however, the Ancient One gently shook her head.
"Lockhart, I know what you wish to say," she interrupted softly. "I cannot make that promise. I signed a covenant with Eternity—this is my destination. I have faith in your abilities. Earth's future now rests in your hands."
Lockhart paused, then nodded gravely, falling silent.
He had intended to invite the Ancient One to accompany him to the wizarding world. Given the differential time flow between the two realms, such a journey would certainly buy her additional time to perhaps discover a solution to her predicament. Even if that proved impossible, remaining in the wizarding world might isolate her from Eternity's pursuit—a preferable alternative.
Yet the Ancient One had declined, likely for multiple reasons, with Earth's safety being paramount among them. After all, if Eternity's wrath descended upon the Ancient One for her betrayal, the planet would suffer. Who then could protect it?
Lockhart said nothing further. The two seemed to understand each other perfectly without words.
After drinking another cup of tea poured by the Ancient One, Lockhart rose and bowed deeply.
"Supreme Sorcerer, rest assured that the future Kamar-Taj will not disappoint you. I will fulfill your vision. Kamar-Taj will always remain your home."
Meanwhile, in the Vientiane World, a flurry of activity created an atmosphere of controlled chaos.
Grindelwald's acolytes, Lockhart's students, Kamar-Taj sorcerers, and countless automated assistants shuttled back and forth throughout the realm. They moved with purpose, carrying various containers, artifacts, and space-extension bags before them, behind them, or clutched in their hands.
The items they transported represented the full spectrum of magical resources—precious and mundane alike, nothing was overlooked. The scene resembled a massive evacuation, as if every resource were being systematically packed and removed.
Kaecilius stood in the eastern warehouse of the Vientiane World, observing the dense throng of sorcerers moving like industrious ants. They entered the warehouse, deposited their collected resources, then departed swiftly to gather more.
A profound sense of wonder crossed his features. Never in his life had he witnessed such an abundance of magical resources. The entirety of the sorcerers' resource realms had been meticulously harvested, preserved, and transported here without damaging their original environments.
The purpose? Kaecilius now understood.
To be entrusted with overseeing such a fortune would tempt anyone with less integrity. Yet Kaecilius was no shortsighted opportunist. Lockhart's extraordinary investment and mobilization of resources suggested ambitions far beyond the obvious. Though Lockhart hadn't explicitly stated his ultimate goal, Kaecilius had formed theories based on his understanding of the man.
These speculations only heightened his excitement and dedication to the task.
As these thoughts occupied him, a small elf flew through the distant warehouse entrance, approaching him swiftly.
"Lord Kaecilius," the creature announced, its wings beating rapidly, "the master requests your presence in the central tower's conference room."
As it finished speaking, the elf's eyes—situated strangely on its back—seemed to summon something. A moment later, a shimmering silver-white spatial doorway materialized before Kaecilius.
Through the portal, he could clearly see a conference room at the pinnacle of Vientiane World's central tower. Beyond the expansive windows, towering structures pierced the distant sky, intertwining with white clouds.
Unsurprised by the dramatic transport, Kaecilius stepped directly through the doorway.
The conference room was elegantly minimalist, dominated by a long table occupying its center. Kaecilius found a seat near the front and settled in quietly.
Almost immediately, additional silver-white portals began appearing around the room. Various wizards and sorcerers emerged, each taking their place at the conference table. To Kaecilius, all were familiar faces—Grindelwald, Ian, Wanda, Mordo, Arnold, and others. Each represented Lockhart's inner circle, his direct lineage of followers.
Within minutes, the thirty-seat conference table was occupied by twenty-nine individuals. Only the head seat remained vacant.
An expectant silence fell over the assembly, with no one initiating conversation. All eyes focused on the empty chair at the table's head.
Lockhart finally appeared, standing before the main seat. He surveyed the gathered students, friends, and subordinates who lined both sides of the conference table.
"Everyone," he began, his voice resonant and clear, "I've summoned you here today to share two critical announcements—one favorable, one unfortunate."
The assembly listened with rapt attention.
"Let me first deliver the difficult news." Lockhart paused, his tone becoming heavier. "The Ancient One, original Supreme Sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, will succumb to illness in seven days. The responsibility of resisting the Dimensional Demon Gods will soon fall entirely to us."
At this revelation, Kaecilius appeared momentarily stunned, as if unable to process what he'd heard. Before he could voice his questions, however, Lockhart continued with his second announcement.
"And now for the more promising news," he declared. "In seven days, our world arrival plan will officially commence."