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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 453: Eternally Bright
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 14:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 453: Eternally Bright
21 June 1995, Unknown Place
And just like that, with a heavy heart, Albus committed the greatest act of sacrilege in his life and stabbed Excalibur into the boulder. The Light screamed and the world itself turned white.
Albus Dumbledore groaned as he opened his eyes, wondering where he was, and what had happened. He had been fighting the Potter boy with the aim of making sure that the final prophecy would break, and that their ritual would be finally ready. After that, he remembered feeling pain unlike he had ever done before as he broke Excalibur, the weapon of Light, the sword of promised victory, which Merlin himself had weaponized Fate itself to craft. And then everything just turned black.
Damn it, he needed to get back as quickly as possible. Ragnarök was coming, and Albus’ inevitable confrontation against Grindelwald, the final battle between the Light and Dark should be anytime now. For all their friendship, Gellert was extremely ruthless and would use his temporary absence to get even more advantage. Albus couldn’t afford that, especially given that he already lost his greatest weapon when he destroyed Excalibur.
The contrast of the sheer brightness he was feeling as he opened his eyes gave him a small migraine. It wasn’t just sunlight—no, this was something far purer, far more oppressive. He blinked a few times, his vision finally adjusting, only to freeze.
He was standing in a vast, empty field of white. No horizon, no sky, no sound. Just Light. Endless, overwhelming, suffocating Light. It was familiar, in its unbending way, like an old teacher whose lessons were carved in pain and sacrifice. There was no warmth to it—only judgment. The kind that didn’t scream or rage, but simply existed, absolute and final. It didn’t need to speak for Albus to understand that he was meeting his patron. And given the oppression he felt, which was a stark contrast to the soothing comfort he experienced in its order previously, it wasn’t happy with him.
He knew that this could happen. After all, he had failed it.
No, it was worse than that. He had betrayed the Light, not unknowingly, or anything like that, but actively made the decision to do it. Albus didn’t regret it, not really, and he would do it again. Humanity’s survival was far more precious than his devotion to the Light. It had been the only line in the sand. The former headmaster was prepared to die, to kill his oldest friend and most devoted allies for the Light, but he would not sacrifice humanity for its battle.
But the Light didn’t care for intentions. It never had. It was a force, not a friend—a truth that Albus had known but never truly understood until now. Here, in its domain, stripped of his wand and will, there was no room for justification, no place for noble lies. Only the weight of his defiance.
A familiar voice spoke up, “Ah, Albus the defiant, how was your little act of defiance?”
Dumbledore turned, glaring at the source of the voice, and spoke up, “Is this another trick of yours, Merlin? Am I even speaking to you?”
The white-haired man with the mischievous eyes snickered, “There is no place for lies here.”
“But you’re not Merlin, are you?”
“I am in every way that matters,” the former court mage of Camelot uttered, “The Light chooses its champions when they’re children. It makes it easier for them to be influenced like that. The entity records everything that happens to us, every moment, every feeling. I’m a recording of everything Merlin ever experienced, everything he ever felt, every thought he ever had. The Light believed that this would make things easier for you to accept, or more accurately, a way to better interpret their intent. After all, a foreboding feeling or a push here and there could work, but it chose the direct approach for now.”
Albus nodded, still feeling guarded. Despite what happened with Fawkes, Merlin was, by far, the Champion of Light which he respected the most. Despite his failure in Camlann, he had become something of a godly figure for all mages across the world. His feats were widely acclaimed, and he had changed the landscape of magic for everyone after him. Hell, in every way that mattered, he had won. It was his ideology, his work, that lasted for centuries after his death. He could see the logic of the Light using him as a mouthpiece, a way for him to lower his guard.
His caution must have shown because Merlin started to snicker, “You’re in the Light’s domain. There’s no need to be so nervous. If it wanted you dead, then you’d be dead. That said, you really did your best to screw things up, didn’t you? Destroying my sword like that was rude, to say the least.”
Finally, they were at the crux of the problem and the former headmaster answered with a firm tone, his voice echoing strangely in the blank eternity around them, “I know that I shouldn’t have destroyed Excalibur. I know that I betrayed the Light while doing so, but that doesn’t change anything. Humanity was always going to be my priority. The Light wanted a war that would leave the world in ashes. I chose not to save as many of us as I could before the end, and I would have gladly fought and died for it. It was the one that failed me. It didn’t care that humanity would perish, and so, this fell on my shoulders.”
Merlin, or the memory of him, smiled faintly, with something that was not quite amusement, “Of course it didn’t care. Humanity is just a single species with a very limited lifespan, a species that’s barely out of its diapers. It’s not special, not to them.”
“It is special. We have created gods out of the void and empowered them with our worship. I know the value of my people.”
“This isn’t humanity's power, this is Midgard’s. The material realm stands at the centre of the cosmos and amplifies whatever effects humanity has on the other realms. It’s not special, but Midgard is. This is why the war is for Midgard, for the material realm, not for humanity. Hell, humanity might be an obstacle. After all, our people have shown that they were very fickle with their worship. Countless realms and gods have been created and faded into obscurity, with nothing more than a whimper. Your plan to eventually return humanity to Midgard would always present a risk. After all, a united humanity could dream of a challenger to the Light or the Dark, even after Ragnarök.”
Dumbledore looked enraged, “That’s monstrous.”
The former champion of Light seemed outraged, “No, it’s strategic. You’re missing the point as to why gaining control over Midgard is so critical. There is a reason why both the Light and Dark want it. They could express their wills on this plane and influence the void between worlds one step at a time. Even the Gods could be affected, strengthened, and weakened. There is a reason why this realm was neutral. This would have become nothing more than a battlefield. No, before Atlantis fell, Gods and Demons alike, made an agreement to empower themselves and avoid more gods from being born. Every single pantheon was allowed to influence humans from the outside, but without direct interference, to strengthen their positions. It was a system doomed to fail, and the main reason why the great Cataclysm happened. To make things brief, keeping humanity alive on Midgard would present a future risk to the Light’s supremacy, a risk that they are not willing to have.”
“So, that’s what we all are, just pawns on the board,” Dumbledore muttered to himself but then raised his voice, “If that’s the case then why did the Dark help Grindelwald in our plan? Why did the Dark protect humanity?”
Merlin gave the former headmaster a disappointed look, “Even now, you are too blind to see what is before you. Grindelwald betrayed you. He had no intention of bringing humanity back to Midgard. His agreement with the Dark was simple. It would create a realm, which would have every single magical being in this place, and Grindelwald would ascend as their god, completely separated from the Dark. In exchange, he would start Ragnarök, and our final battle would finally begin.”
“I don’t believe you,” Albus retorted, only for some mist to appear in thin air, showing Grindelwald revealing his plan to Harry Potter.
He froze, slowly realizing that he’d been duped. Gellert had no plans of saving the muggles, only the worthy, mages and magical creatures. This was their greatest point of debate. When they were younger, Gellert had always been in favour of exterminating the muggles, calling them a threat to mage-kind. Albus never really believed him. They had progressed, yes, but not nearly enough to fight the magical world, not enough to even detect its presence. To be honest, he’d been concerned a bit about their advancement in his older years and had a few plans ready, mostly wards that would mess with any form of surveillance, that would detect magic.
Alas, he didn’t need to do it. After Ragnarök, magic would inevitably be detected, but the muggle infrastructure would have been gone, destroyed by the fighting, and the muggles would go back to being defenceless, giving the mages more than enough time to merge into their society properly, providing services through friendship and maybe a bit of magical persuasion.
But to think that Gellert was planning on leaving them to die, not out of hate, but to use the energy that would save billions to ascend. It was a betrayal that Albus hadn’t seen coming. He had destroyed Excalibur for this, to let the muggles die, and let Grindelwald rule a mockery of the magical world?
Rage. Pure rage. That was what Albus was feeling. Rage at himself, rage at the world, rage at Gellert, rage at the Light and rage at Dark. Then the defeat came, and the former headmaster slumped, “Why didn’t you tell me? I know that you’re the Light’s mouthpiece, so why didn’t you say anything?”
Merlin’s face turned neutral, and Albus could finally see the unnaturalness speaking through him, each word felt more like a spell, like an order, than a conversation, “Because it didn’t interfere with our plan. Ragnarök would happen and there wouldn’t be anyone left on Midgard after our victory. The plan was that you would use Excalibur to defeat Grindelwald, that you would take his place as the ruler of the new realm of mages, and that by killing him with our greatest weapon, it would be the chink in the armour that would get us to finally destroy the Dark, just as Merlin planned. We would have been victorious. The Dark would have died, and you would have been a god in everything but name, ruling the magical world, shaping it into your treasured Utopia. You would have achieved your dream. Alas, with your actions, you have jeopardized everything.”
“You could have said something,” he protested, “How was I supposed to know…”
“You were not supposed to know. You were supposed to have faith,” Merlin’s sharp voice echoed, “And yet you chose rebellion, and our position is now untenable, with Ragnarök being so close.”
Albus looked down, ashamed. He shouldn’t have tried to defy his patron. He should have known better than to defy it, to betray it, like that. And now, Gellert’s twisted vision of the magical world would be what remains of humanity, and the battle between the Light and Dark was now uncertain.
“I suppose this is it, time for my punishment,” the former headmaster asked, his voice even.
Merlin’s voice lost its inhumanity and turned a bit more casual, more normal, “Funnily enough, no. You’re very lucky. If it had been any other time, then you’d have been punished very heavily, but you are very lucky if one could call you that. Ragnarök is coming and the Light needs its champion.”
“How?” He asked, feeling slightly desperate.
“Just watch,” the former Archmage retorted.
What he saw was one of the greatest battles he had ever seen, his duel with Gellert included. The Potter boy had surprisingly kept up during their fight. Nurmengard had fallen, the vampires wiped out from the face of the earth, and all that remained was the final fight between the Potter boy and Gellert. To his surprise, Gellert had turned himself into some inhuman being of Darkness, essentially a demonic creature bound to the Dark, by using his soul as the catalyst to his ritual, trying to salvage as much as possible of his plans. The Potter boy was coming very close to killing Gellert, each attack being surprisingly effective.
“Impressive, isn’t he?” Merlin continued with wonder in his tone, “He’s fighting against impossible odds, with nothing to rely on, but his wits and planning. Do you know that he actually came very close to killing the Light and the Dark? Grindelwald’s warning is one of the reasons we weren’t tricked. He crafted a weapon that would trick two entities into destroying themselves without even noticing. Even now, his weapons resist being destroyed, but the Light was able to slowly overpower them and stop any magical infection from spreading. And look at him, fighting your counterpart, stalling for time that would never happen. He will eventually die. It will only take a single mistake, and his tale will end. So much potential, gone down the drain.”
“And what? You want me to save him?”
Merlin’s eyes glowed white once more and his voice turned inhuman, “No, we want you to kill him. He is too dangerous to be left alive. He has almost managed to destroy us once. We will not give him the chance to do it again. You will use this.”
Slowly but surely, a spear made of pure Light appeared in thin air and materialized in front of Albus. It hovered with unnatural stillness, humming with a resonance that felt like law incarnate, “What is this?”
“A weapon forged the essence of the Light itself, the spear of the end. It will kill anything it touches and is enhanced by whatever it touches. Take the Hallows from the boy, take his weapon, and kill your final enemy.”
“What’s the price?” Albus asked, knowing perfectly that with weapons like this, there will always be a price to it.
“This weapon is not natural. It is not material in nature. And you, as its wielder, will eventually combust under the weight of its authority,” Merlin intoned, his voice echoing like judgment made manifest. “It is forged from the essence of the Light itself and meant for one task—to end what should not be.”
Albus stared at the spear. It was beautiful in the most terrifying way—pure, perfect, absolute. He could already feel it pressing against his soul like it sought to overwrite his very being.
“Kill the Potter boy with him—kill the boy who carries the Hallows, and you will usurp their authority. The wand, the cloak, the stone… they are fragments of Death’s domain. Slay their bearer, and the spear will absorb them, becoming whole. This will give you the edge against the Champion of the Dark. This will injure the Dark itself, enough to influence the coming battle. It will also allow you to usurp Grindelwald’s ritual. You can save humanity, all of it, by sending them to Grindelwald’s empty realm, under the guidance of the Light, which they will thrive under the guidance of the Light, under its eternal order.”
“You didn’t mention the cost,” the former headmaster commented.
“You will burn,” Merlin whispered, voice finally losing its edge and turning… reverent. “The spear will consume you when you use it fully. Your final attack should not only hurt the Dark, but also activate Ragnarök, and usurp a ritual, using it to save billions of lives. The soul is a powerful and rigid thing, but even it has limits. When you are done, your soul will be claimed, and there will be no afterlife. No redemption. No memory. But in that final moment, you will have shaped the future.”
A pause.
“A god, for an instant. Then—nothing. That is your punishment, but in exchange, your dream will become reality. Humanity will be saved, living in a utopia, an order of Light.”
The spear floated closer, pulsing brighter now.
A final choice. A final sacrifice.
Yet, it was perhaps one of the easiest ones he ever made. After all, what was one more sacrifice for the greater good? Humanity’s survival came first, and the Light’s offer was an enticing one.
And so, Albus grasped the spear and felt the Light’s small presence pour into every corner of his soul, flooding him with power and purpose. It was too much. Already, he could feel the fraying of his soul at the edges. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
He turned, gaze hardened, and whispered with quiet finality, “For the greater good.”
And the world began to shift.
AN: I’m back. I wanted to thank you all for your well wishes. I was tempted not to write but felt like I needed a bit of normality after the last weekend. Anyway, I hope that this chapter comes out like I wanted it to. I think I made the Light a bit too casual. The idea was to have it also manipulate Albus by using a memory Merlin as an intermediary while showing its commands somehow. I hope I pulled it off, but if I didn’t, I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Garri Sarkisov
Fanatics
Abe 7
Dumbledore's character in this chapter felt like someone who is already out of his mind and very gullible. But good portrayal of someone who has been loosing his mind and soul to Light for the past year or so of the story. Looking forward to the duel between Harry F'ng Potter and both Dark, Light Lords (discount Sauron and Gandalf. LOL)
Afterdark230
Yeah, something tells me the light will not be getting what it wants.
