The Legendary Mage (Alavin)

"May that day hasten to us."

"One step at a time, my lord. We've done well to reach this point. Once your authority is secured and the Mallister family's power grows to shield the town, more and more folk will come to settle here." "We are yet too weak."

Lucan glanced at Alavin, whose youthful features had matured into chiseled lines of strength, but tonight, his eyes held a melancholic depth. "My lord, don't dwell on such thoughts. All will be well." "I wonder... should enemies besiege our town, how shall we respond?"

"With the aid of the Mollen family and the Cobalt Strike's protection, none would dare encircle us unless Cobalt Strike were to forsake Stormcast, which seems improbable. Your renown for strength and talent is widespread in the Northlands, and many Organizations would welcome you. Cobalt Strike would not be so foolish," Lucan boasted with pride, for the guards had spent the afternoon speaking of Alavin's prowess. They took great pride in him, knowing that his strength was key to the town's revival.

Alavin remained silent, his gaze fixed upon the sleeping town.

"Can I truly safeguard the secret of Atlantis?"

What stance did the Cobalt Strike Commander hold? In the worst-case scenario, if the secret was revealed and they were besieged, what then? To whom could Alavin turn for aid?

The Covert Bloodlore Society? The Mollen family? The Iron family?

They might wish to help, but none would dare stand against the entire Northlands for Alavin's sake alone.

"Do I place all my hope upon them?"

"No! I must rely on myself!"

Alavin pondered silently for a long while, his gaze drifting away from the ancient city to the distant seas, toward the ruins of the old kingdom that had met its doom.

In the depths of the ocean lay the Watchful Shore. The Tomb of the Kings.

"You've gone too far," grumbled the little white turtle, standing atop a high ledge, wagging its tiny claws at the silent statues of the Kings, gesturing wildly.

"I just did the math, ten thousand years, by the gods, I've been locked up for ten thousand years. While other turtles have been wooing and whispering sweet nothings, breeding and carrying on their lineage, here I've wasted my prime standing guard over this place.

"I demand compensation for the years of my youth lost!

"Would you lot care to make even the slightest peep? If you can't manage that, at least pass some wind to make a noise. Don't you play dead on me? Say something. What do you want to keep me here for? You've passed on the legacy, so what purpose do I serve now? What, have we grown fond of each other over these ten thousand years? Have you fallen for my dashing good looks and flawless white shell? "Oh... please, just let me go!

"Can't we part on good terms?

"You must be weary too, unnaturally alive for ten thousand years. If it's time to die, then die. Stop clinging on."

"Ah! Great heavens above!

"I'm going to die! I'm going to end it all! Don't push me!

"I want to die, but I'm too scared. How embarrassing."

The little white turtle's emotions fluctuated between anger, sorrow, cursing, and forced smiles. After a bout of noisy complaints, its head retracted, its expression turned blank, and its claws touched the ground once more. Enough, it thought, this is pointless, back to sleep!

"Might as well sleep another ten thousand years. I'm cursed with a long life anyway."

The other Magi-Monsters in the cave, seeing the turtle settle down, slowly emerged from their hiding places and went back to whatever they were doing.

Tucked in the pitch-dark cave, the little white turtle blinked its green-glossy eyes and sighed, "How wicked! You undying, wicked beings! I should have gathered a few more female turtles back in the day, at least I'd have something to do over these ten thousand years, a bit of fun every now and then. Alas, it is such a hard life. How did I get fooled into this? When I was but a thousand years young, in the prime of my life, naive and clueless, and now here I am... Sigh..."

Closing its eyes, the turtle gave in to boredom and fell asleep, resigned to whatever fate had in store.