Imperium

Chapter 29: Spark, Pt. 1

Regan watches Elder Haegen tamper with the console panel, flicking switches and pressing buttons. They haven't heard back from Cree and Giovanni yet, but it's only been a few hours since their departure. He shouldn't hold his breath just yet.

But his stomach is tied in knots for other reasons.

This is his chance. He just needs to find a way to convince Elder Haegen to let him give the message instead, without making him realize that he and Cree are trying to derail this declaration of war. He trusts the big man, but he's also rather excessive in the sense of wanting to reach this 'Old-World Order' by obliterating everything that's new.

For Regan, as a scientist who has dedicated countless years of his life towards innovating new things, he's not entirely sure he can get behind this plan. It's inhumane to want to eradicate the existence of Hexes simply to spite the Imperium and The Director.

As he briefly allowed himself to get lost in thought, he's snapped back to the present when a firm hand falls on his shoulder and he jumps a little before realizing that Elder Haegen is now standing directly in front of him.

"Are you ready for this, Regan?" his powerful voice still sends chills down his spine, but he remains calm and composed as best he can while under pressure. He clears his throat and nods with a convincing smile, just like he would back on the Sage council before starting to weasel his way towards turning the conversation in his favor.

"Well, yes. But I'm not the one giving the speech that has the potential to shift the entire basis of existence that the people of Eutria have become accustomed to over the centuries of the Imperium's existence," he says and tilts his head a bit. "So, I suppose the more appropriate question would be: are you ready, Elder?"

Elder Haegen chuckles wearily and slowly nods. "You are certainly full of surprises, Angevin. When Jewel showed me the result of your blood test, I could hardly believe it. I mean..." he steps away and looks Regan over from head to toe before meeting his eyes again.

"The Lost Descendant of Ophelia Dev'mar Angevell, here, in Fulminare. Would you fault me for saying that I was admittedly a little... starstruck?" he chuckles again, the low rumbles roll through his chest. "That must sound strange coming from me, an old centaur chieftain who now commands the Old-World Coalition. But still, it is true."

Regan scratches the back of his head. "I'm really not that special. I mean, everyone else of the Angevell bloodline who came before me all had incredibly powerful magic from the moment they were born. I didn't. I am just regular ol' me," he smiles sheepishly, but it fades when the large man shows him a contemplative look.

"You are far too humble. If anything, I would say that your lack of magic from birth is what makes you so unique. Ophelia's blood still flows prominently through your veins, yet her magic does not," he says and holds Regan by his shoulders, making him slightly stiffen. "It's extraordinary."

He lets him go again and smiles solemnly. "But after seeing your passion and drive and dedication towards doing the right thing and making an impact on the world around you, I see now that while you did not inherit her magic, you were gifted something else," he stares into Regan's eyes, seeing the inspiring glow behind them.

"You possess her spark. Her commitment to shaping the world into something better. Without that spark, she would have never founded the Dev'al Ordon. While the High Order fell out of their original ways set in stone by your ancestor, they still made an impact, for better or worse."

"However, what the Order became wasn't her vision. She wanted to make a place, a foundation for Mars all across the six lands of Aramora to be able to turn to and learn how to use their gifts. But, after she was gone, you can imagine what happened. That much power all kept in the hands of a collective group would inevitably erupt and destroy itself, slowly over the course of many centuries. And it did, as the destruction of Aramora is proof of," Elder Haegen sighs and looks off out the wide window of the Command Chamber.