The Temple of Wik rose into the sky like a monument of glory, the top of which was only visible above the clouds. It’s sacred stones testified of the immortal power from which it was made, for there was not a sign of age upon them. As smooth and glossy as pure crystal, the surface of the monument reflected a thousand colors, and it’s transluscence reflected the transparency of those whom have dedicated themselves to its purpose.
The Old Wizard climbed the steps to the precipice alone, as was the tradition. He paused after each step to reflect upon the mistakes he had made during his prior journey, vowing not to repeat them. It was no small endeavor, to empty ones soul of all it’s knowledge, trusting only in the power of Wik to teach it to him anew. Though he would have much aid, there were still so many circumstances left to depend on faith alone. Any soul would have just cause to fear the outcome of such a trip.
But he had taken the first step. There was no turning back, now. As he continued the climb, the air became thinner, but his resolve only thickened. He reminded himself that, shortly after his departure, a very good friend would follow along this same path; and they would see each other again in dimension earth. Even more reassuring was his foreknowledge of the others, the souls who would join him once his earthly ministry began anew. It was for them he pressed on.
His thoughts strayed for a moment at the recollection of his friends question. “Do you think they will remember,” he had said. The old wizard couldn’t help but doubt. He had been watching events play out upon the earth for over two thousand years, and they have consistently turned from bad to worse. If only the Architects had allowed him to return earlier, he reflected, perhaps things would have been different. But he had made a fatal mistake. He fell weak to the powerful urges of the flesh in which he was clothed, and he had went the way of so many fallen men before him…
“Bah!” cried the Wizard aloud. “It shall not be so again!” As he released this inner rebuke, his voice resounded into the clouds and echoed in the rarest clarity, calling back towards him from the air. An admonition from the Masters, he decided. No. It shall not be so again.
As he reached the crest of the temple, the bright golden flame of life began to dance in solemn magnificence. Here we are… again, the Wizard mused. Once, more, he would set out to save this flame from those who would destroy it. There was no greater cause, as far as he was concerned. Life, in all it’s glorious imperfections, must go on thriving. If it dies in one dimension, it dies in all. If any souls be enslaved, the affect ripples throughout the multitude of universes. No, it must go on!
The Wizard of Wik paused for a brief moment, fell to one knee before the towering flame, then leaned his staff across his chest.
As he drew a deep breath, he prepared his soul for the journey, then invoked what would be his final spell for a very long time…
“I am the Great and Powerful Guardian of the Sovereign Flame of Wik. My name may not be spake aloud, lest it be profaned by mortal lips.”
As the incantation resounded, the entire temple came to life, casting beams of colorful light in all directions. The great flame atop the temple, where the wizard stood, now soared high into the sky like a giant volcano, spewing it’s blue fire in all directions.
As the Wizard stepped into the flame, a mighty voice from the sky echoed seven thunders…