Magic was dying.
Not with a roar, but a whimper.
Gregorian stood, wind tossed and scowling, atop the Crown of the World. Even here, standing over the grave of the world beast, he felt the void. He scraped the world for any scarce droplets of power, but came up empty.
Lightning carved the sky and he struggled to cobble together a simple interior working.
Years prior he had stood alongside eight of the most powerful mages in existence, facing off against the world beast. A force of creation that warped reality with every step. The air around it bowed and bent in its wake, warping perception.
Force and fire had torn the air, shields destroyed upon creation, and beasts weaved together by mana and will were turned to dust.
Now, even a simple teleportation left him sweating and gasping for breath.
If he had any chance of fixing things, he needed help.
Gregorian was reluctant to call the council; once great men and women. Now nothing but selfish, bigoted worms. The eight most powerful mages in the world, excluding himself, of course. He had somehow obtained the rank of Elder; in other words, a glorified babysitter. Hundreds of years their junior and thrice the talent.
He'd laugh if it wasn't so pathetic.
For the first time in a hundred years they were all gathered in the Octaviary.
The long abandoned school that had once housed all of them. Formerly the most prodigious magical educational hall in all the world, now just a home for monsters and worms.
He knew what had to be done and that they would fight him on it. If they refused? He would have to destroy them.
Morons. Fools. You have no idea what's at stake. Gregorian spat. His own impotence ate at him. All the power in the world and he still failed. He was as furious at himself as he was the council for letting it get this bad.
He completed the workings of the spell, using his own reserves, and energy exploded out of him, warping reality. It was time to play his part. Space enveloped him, and he was gone.
****
The Council–eight masters of magic–gathered around one of the last natural mana wells in the world. A hidden chamber tucked away in the space between spaces. They lounged in a cozy room inundated with tobacco smoke and urgent chatter. There was enough history and artifacts jammed within to fill a museum.
A wide lacquered table took up the lion's share of the room, its golden outer edge carved, showing stories of the very people who sat around it. A polished stone sat floating gently in a center gap. It was the little brother of a larger version in the great hall. Though diminutive in size, it was bursting with power.
The mages bickered; each weighing their accomplishments against the others; wielding their egos like swords.
"What do you suppose he wants this time?" Nico nearly slurred, an orb of wine swirling in the air beside him. Occasional lines broke free and flowed into his mouth. "I have far too much business to attend to these days without catering to the Elder's every worry."
"Drinking yourself stupid is hardly business." Chun snapped, considering actual problems that required her attention.
The space at the front of the room warped. With a snap reality tore. Gregorian stepped out, a legend in the flesh. A dark cowl, grey beard and blazing blue eyes, he levied a glare over the room, bringing silence with it.
He clutched a gnarled staff in his hands, lightning and arcane energy coursing through it. His scowling face was framed by a coarse grey beard that tumbled down to his waist.
"Let's skip the pleasantries. You all want to be here as much as I do. But this problem has been ignored long enough." Gregorian announced, his voice artificially enhanced, booming through the hall. "Njeri, please. Explain why we're here."
He hadn't bothered to brief her, the same way you don't explain numbers to a calculator. The truth from her lips carried far more weight than his own. A sad, but undeniable truth. He had developed a reputation as being too cautious. He balked inwardly at the thought. It was only through caution that they still drew breath.
Njeri favored him with a look, her piercing amber eyes looking not just at him, but at every potentiality stemming from him. Avenues bisected with different decisions that could be made. New rivers flowing from change, however small. She clarified her vision, focusing on only the most likely outcomes.
"Magic is dying, brothers and sisters. I know without a doubt that you have felt its effects. Spells are harder to cast, your defenses weaken, and everyday the blanks grow stronger with their technology. If something is not done, magic will disappear forever."
"Aye? And 'ow are we gonna go and do that then?" Otis grumbled in a thick brogue. "Patch it up like a leaky pipe will we?"
"With the World Beasts slain, the source of magic has shifted dramatically. The beasts, as problematic as they were, had their benefits. Though they may take a few hundred lives every year, the mana that leaked off of them was enough to supply every wizard on the planet ten times over."
Lee barked a laugh, "Yes! So we just bring the beasts back and problem solved, right?"
He sat there rubbing his hands together, and Gregorian noticed he was flexing. For who or why he wasn't sure.
"Even if that was possible, that's foolish, even by your standards Lee." Gregorian sighed, annoyed that he even had to waste time on such words.
"Elder, what is your solution?" Chun asked, bowing her head in respect.
Gregorian favored her with a small bow. It was nice to have an ally in this den of snakes.
"With the beasts gone, there is only one source of new mana." Gregorian announced.
The room stared at him expectantly, some already knowing the answer through their own research. The others blissfully unaware, thinking this temporary.
"Us."