3 | The Wanderer of Worlds

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Makalaurë | Master of the Mystic Arts

Location: Kamar-Taj, Tibet, Earth

Time: 1370 C.E

Makalaurë was rarely angry.

However: he decided to make an exception today.

He strode into the Sanctuary's training grounds, his rich blue robes billowing behind him as he focused his gaze upon the figure standing in front of the group of sorcerers. He already sensed the tension as he graced over her stiffened shoulders, raising her arm to stop the students from conjuring the runic circles.

As he arrived several paces before them, he heard her instruct them: "Class is further dismissed." 

Many eyes went to him, glancing back and forth as they moved out of the open courtyard before he heard her speak.

"Makalaurë—"

"Is it true? You...you use the Dark Dimension." His seething was barely but a whisper.

There was a long silence.

Isolde continued to look away as she said in a quieter tone, "It is the only way."

He ground his teeth, biting away a seething hiss. Twice had this happened to him in his entire life, watching someone he cared for waste away for a choice that would tie them to such a painful life. A choice that was either ritual or oath.

Makalaurë knew the consequences of them all. He had seen his family be torn apart. He felt himself waste away in grief and guilt and to this day he still did, mourning for the losses despite knowing his duty as now a Master of the Mystic Arts. His father, his brothers...now his only friend he considered family too.

All he wondered was why. Why would she choose this path? And yet all he could muster out was his disbelief and the swirling conflicted thoughts in his head.

Because in one way, he didn't have to lose the only anchor of his sanity in such a short time. But in doing so, it would be a heavy price.

"I don't know how I feel about it." Taking a step forward, he tried to nudge her to look back at him, "Of you...choosing this way. You know the downsides of immortality, Isolde. Both of us know it."

Finally, she turned around, her eyes now aged and yet he could tell the unfathomable unhealthiness of her immortality. How her hair began to thin despite her youthful appearance. In a few decades, many would wonder how truly ancient the Sorcerer Supreme was.

And how she became immortal.

"It is the only way to protect our world from the threats," She told him, maintaining her composure and confidence despite the slight guilt edged in her tone, "Even if it means I must take measures beyond the natural law."

Taking a deep breath, Makalaurë rubbed his palms together before he stared back at her.

"I trust your decisions, Isolde." He answered in an honest voice, "But if anything happens. If...if Dormammu seeks Earth. You must let me know. I won't let you fight them alone."

Surprised by his response, there was a softening in Isolde's gaze as he returned with an assured sad smile.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Time: 1375 C.E

Kamar-Taj had several rooms restricted to very few members of their group. Mostly consisting of the longest-reigning Masters of the Mystic Arts, they were allowed to conduct their research and work within the Sanctuary. And in some cases, they were also advised to maintain the destruction of property by using other means.

That was why he was secured in his research room, protected as well by the Mirror Dimension.

In the dimly lit room, a bright small object lit up a majority of the space, shining a white light that flashed in several colours. It was propped up on a wooden plaque, protected by several eldritch runes as Makalaurë waved his hands and allowed to rotate the jewel around, inspecting the effects of his experiment.

After several months of non-stop work on the jewel, all he could muster was the same reaction.

And that was frustration and confusion.

He was about to finish for that evening when he spotted a golden portal conjured on the other side of the room. He noticed Isolde immediately, returning his eyes to the glowing jewel before he lowered the eldritch runes and placed back the shields.

As the sparks of golden dust dissipated, he heard Isolde ask him: "How far have you been able to control it?"

Makalaurë eyed his friend, inhaling deeply before he swiped his glove hand into the air, a small wooden box appeared upon the table before he snapped it open.

"The fact that my father's creation has more than just appearing as a lovely precious gem on a circlet scares me more than having to discover this was how it took me here," he told her, staring back at the Silmaril which sat in front of them, an aching feeling and urge wanting him to take it. "The energy in the gem... is beyond what I am capable of."

It was beyond anything he had imagined.

When he first laid his eyes on one of them (well all three of them), he had been back in Formenos. They were always locked up safely in some vault, only shown whenever his father wanted to either ogle them or inspect them if anything changed in them. Sometimes he found his mother with it, though less frequent and more concerned by their effects on their father.

Makalaurë believed they were just jewels for display, with immense beauty and purity from the light of the Two Trees.

But now...he somehow believed the jewel was the cause of him landing in this new world...this new universe.

Isolde spoke, "I was able to look at your notes." She perked up a question, "Could your natural abilities be able to combine with it to control it?"

That seemed to be a good point, making him hum before he muttered: "It will take years, possibly decades, to even scratch the surface of its possibilities."

Perhaps even more. With what he learnt from his studies of relics and objects of immense magical energy, there was the potential of it doing more than just gateways and light. It was just annoying that no matter what, it would seem it did not exactly connect with dimensional energy as much as the eldritch spells he used.

It radiated pure energy.

Energy which clearly felt similar to other singularities in this cosmos.

"You think it is like an infinity stone."

"Perhaps." He answered, eyeing back to Isolde to find the Eye of Agamotto resting upon her chest. "It seems to work in tandem whenever The Eye is near. But I do not want to take a risk."

When his gaze hovered back to the Silmaril, taking care of not fully piercing his eyes into its blinding light, a thought quickly rose from his mind.

Could it be possible?

"What is it?"

Makalaurë picked up the charcoal, drawing something in the blank parchment in a few seconds. As he jotted some notes on the side, he placed the piece down and held the parchment up.

Sketched upon it was a lotus, a necklace of sorts.

"Perhaps there is a way we could create a protective relic around it." He suggested, "Much like the Eye of Agamotto, it holds the stone but also remains to possess other powers. I may be able to create one that could be similar and could withhold the power of many suns."

"And not just holding it in the palm of your hand," Isolde said in an amused tone.

He glared slightly, mentally hearing her chuckle.

Intrigue glistened in the Sorcerer Supreme's eyes as she replied, "I believe that may be a good solution to it."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Gobi Desert, Northern Asia, Earth

Time: 1400 C.E

The winds whipped his hair about, causing him to put the hood of his cloak up as they entered the great plains of the wasteland. Isolde had come with him despite his request that it was too dangerous for any of them to arrive. He even forced his apprentice to stay put in Kamar-Taj, knowing that he would not let her accidentally be pulled apart by energy.

It was the reason why they chose this place, isolated enough for no one to get hurt or destroyed.

Isolde was the one who brought the box, holding it in her hands as she laid it out towards him. Opening the lid, Makalaurë sucked in a breath to see the new relic.

Fashioned much like the Eye, it was in the shape of a lotus flower, bronze and golden coloured fastened by red and blue straps.

He carefully brought it into his hand, putting it around his neck before he felt the weight of it hit his chest. Even by the numerous layers and years of enchantments, he could easily sense the pull of the oath from the jewel.

Makalaurë then took a few steps back, letting his hands out to the side whilst he went through his head to remember the movements he needed to do.

He eyed the indigo-coloured hooded figure and told her, "If this does not work and something happens to me, you must not hesitate to stop me and destroy the Silmaril and Stone." Makalaurë sternly added, "Do you understand?"

Isolde tilted her chin and quirked back simply, "Who is the Sorcerer Supreme between us, Lokachari?"

Well, that was a name that caused him to raise a brow.

Though the name...

Makalaurë hummed, replying, "Wanderer...it fits." Quite an understatement as well. It has been decades of him constantly wandering the Multiverse, finding solutions and answers he needed for this to happen.

"The sorcerers call you that nowadays," She spoke, now smiling. "The sorcerer who travels beyond the reaches of the multiverse."

In a joke-like tone, he rose his hands up and positioned them, "Let us hope I return to where I first was." As he felt the shift of energy surge, seeing the petals of the lotus unfold, Makalaurë smiled back and replied to her, "See you in a minute."

In a blinding light, all he could hear was a blank noise as his entire fëa felt itself shift and rip from his physical body.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The first thing he saw was a room.

His room to be exact - back when he was still living in Eldamar. The familiar colour schemes. The Fëanorian tapestry draped over the walls and the bed itself. Not to mention the number of scrolls, books and parchment sprayed across the floor and desk or various notes he used to write on the eve of Telperion's light.

This was his old room when he was still living with his family.

Makalaurë's first instinct was to try and comprehend that this was all real, glancing down at his own body to find it translucent. When he spotted the mirror across the room, he graced towards it, seeing no reflection upon the glass.

'This is incredible...' He thought with a breathless tone, his fingers even sensing the smooth surface as he touched it gently. His form may be here, but it wasn't at the same time.

Suddenly heard a muffled cry from outside the doors.

"Kano!" 

It was a familiar voice crying out loud before there was a bang at the door. 

"Kano! You're going to be late for your apprenticeship!"

Turning around, he saw a figure enter the room from the adjacent doors, sucking in a breath when he spotted his younger self. 

A young Kanafinwë strode out of the ensuite, rushing to grab his satchel which was perched on top of the bed whilst trying to tie the end of his braid.

The person continued to knock on the door.

He watched young Kanafinwë let out an exasperated sound from his mouth, muttering something in Quenya before he glanced at the other doo.

"Yes, yes I'm coming!" Kanafinwë shouted as he finally finished his braid and then let out a sigh.

When his younger self opened the door, Makalaurë's heart lurched as he saw the small figure standing in front of the doorway.

With arms folded, wearing a dark grey tunic with black leggings, the boy with dark raven hair glared up at Kanafinwë.

Morifinwë looked up and down and questioned with a raised brow, "What are you wearing?"

That was when he remembered what this was.

The day he left for his apprenticeship with Lady Nienna. On the same day, he would learn his gift with the Songs of Power.

The day they would tell him that his gift was more than just that – but a powerful source for great things.

Makalaurë gulped as he saw his young innocent self look slightly offended, eyeing his clothes which were perhaps a little too extravagant for a five-day journey to Nienna's halls. He remembered that he was so excited and nervous at the same time that he wanted to wear his best clothes.

For some reason, he thought adding lilac with marigold tones would look good for a future minstrel of the Fëanorian family.

"Thought I'd wear something different today," Kanafinwë defended, earning still a raised brow from his young brother.

"Right..." Morifinwë changed the subject and told him, "Well Ammë's calling for you."

When he walked closer to them, he noticed that Kanafinwë was eyeing him as well and asked back, "Where are you off to?"

Young Morifinwë face twisted into a displeased expression. "Ammë's making me and Curvo meet with Angaráto and Ambaráto." He complained, "Why couldn't Tyelko and Írissë come too?"

Makalaurë's chest tightened, remembering exactly the news he got when he got to the Halls. It was not every day you hear that two young prince elflings would begin a prank war against their cousins for an entire Valian year.

He was only glad they could not see him, failing to hold back his cracking shell as his emotions began to override his pain.

"Well Tyelko's off with Ammë for one-to-one at the training course and he invited Írissë," Kanafinwë told him, smiling back before he slumped his satchel and picked up the small lyre from the floor beside the door. Ruffling his hair, Kanafinwë said farewell to his brother as he added, "I'll see you later Moryo. Please behave...or don't try and stab anyone."

Morifinwë glared, a face Makalaurë knew would be repeated in an older Carnistir. Though that was before Beleriand, before the kinslaying. The Morifinwë here was just a boy, smart and intelligent and calculating just like their mother.

Morverulóra reborn.

However, just like their mother, Morifinwë wore his emotions in the most unexpected ways. It was how Makalaurë remembered this moment, shocked at his brother's actions as he watched him embrace Kanafinwë tightly.

Despite the muffled voices, he could only hear, he remembered what Morifinwë said to him before he left.

"Of course not. I won't be that careless and get caught," Morifinwë said before he looked up to Kanafinwë and whispered back something.

'You better write to me, Kano. Promise?'

'I promise to write especially to you, háno.'

His throat tightened, stopping himself to choke out a sob as the air around him shifted, feeling the pull and tug of the Silmaril. As the scenery shimmered into a white light, Makalaurë closed his eyes and waited for himself to be tugged back.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself kneeling on the sand. The weight of the Silmaril necklace was less than before it was used.

He stared up, gasping out breaths, as he found Isolde's widened eyes staring down at him.

"Makalaurë, what happened?" She asked with a concerned tone.

To be honest, he didn't know what it was. Did the jewel put him in his memories? Or was it another reality altogether?

There were just too many possibilities. The place he had been was so similar that it was difficult to distinguish.

"I was there. I Astral projected and felt I was really there, in another reality," Makalaurë gulped, still trying to sense his own scarred hands and his body. He hated being semi-corporeal. Especially when he was in the Astral Plane. He eyed the Eye around Isolde's neck, seeing it close off as the green tint disappeared within its protective shell. "The Time Stone stopped me from entirely affecting that reality."

The Sorcerer Supreme and the Wanderer of Worlds were lost for words.

After a few seconds, Isolde narrowed her eyes before she gestured a handout. As he thanked her, dusting off the sand, she told him in a warning tone, "No one must know of this." She said, "If word reaches that a Silmaril can withstand the powers of an infinity stone. Earth will be targeted."

A cold shiver passed him, not sure if it was the cold desert of the dark thought of perhaps a Celestial having an infinity stone and the Silmaril in their grasp.

They could decimate planets and worlds in a snap of a finger.

He grazed his palm over the new relic upon his chest, swallowing the bile down his throat. "Earth will be targeted, either way, Isolde." Makalaurë looked at her with a grave expression, "Our universes are inevitable to their end. You remember what we saw."

Before this experiment, before even deciding to use both the Time Stone and the Silmaril, they had seen the possibilities of their future. The branches that would grow and grow until all they could see would cause themselves headaches.

Their far future would be carnage.

And they wouldn't even be able to be there sometimes.

She said lowly to him, "We will be breaking the Natural Law if we do this."

"I know," he said, stepping forward.

Isolde stared directly at him, whispering back, "But we must defend it."

"And I will be there in step no matter what."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Maglor's Safehouse, Norway, Earth

Time: August 2027

"So let me get this straight: the Silmaril sent you to Earth where you met the Ancient One, learnt to become a sorcerer and then used the Time Stone with said Silmaril and basically see the past, present and future," Illyria stated in a deadpanned look. "What is wrong with people trying to fricking time travel?"

Dinner was perhaps the peak of Illyria's supposed interrogation. After what occurred at the village store, Maedhros already knew the second they arrived something happened and immediately made shot an accused look at him...which was reasonable until the blonde sorceress assured his brother that it wasn't him who caused it – hinting the hesitation in Illyria as she revealed to Maedhros what happened.

After that, Maglor returned to get the things, advising her to meditate despite the glare she gave back before she gave in and went inside.

He didn't see the duo until dinner. But since Maedhros forced them with his typical glare at any of his siblings, they sat down at a transfigured dining table.

Taking a sip of his water (he really wished he brought alcohol. He's starting to feel foolish in forgetting these things), Maglor rubbed his temples as he sighed. "I was a careless and reckless sorcerer, Illyria." He looked at her, telling her tiredly, "Both of us were. We wanted to see it all. See so much of it...until it was too late and we saw things that weren't to be."

"And yet you still did it." Illyria leaned back on her chair, propping one leg up as she held it with the crook of her arm. She questioned back, still in disbelief, "How are you not crazy? I mean, my dad did it as well."

He looked across to her before he noticed his brother's look back at him. It was those blank looks he would give to Celegorm and Curufin, unimpressed at their actions if it meant causing chaos and damage.

Oh Vishanti, has he stooped that low like them?

Well, considering he almost caused multiversal war perhaps...

That was another story to be told.

"Wait, so you knew about Thanos?" Illyria gaped back at him.

Maglor winced, already sensing the anger in her voice. "Yes."

Thankfully, Illyria kept her composure, glaring instead as she asked accusingly back, "Where were you then?"

"Here, protected from being snapped and dusted away," He answered truthfully, "It's why I sent those letters to your father. And why I couldn't really see you." No less he didn't know the chances of being part of the half who would be dusted, Maglor didn't want to take the risk and remained in Arda during those years.

It was why the last meeting with Strange had been a few days before Thanos arrived on Earth. He remembered how that meeting turned out, already feeling the raging storm in the former doctor's face as if Maglor had already killed Illyria.

He had known that the news of Illyria's origins would conflict with Strange's choices.

All Maglor could do was accept it.

"Does he know?" She asked him, snapping him back to reality.

Maglor stared at the young woman, sensing the gradual pulsing of her energy beginning to show. "That you are half-aini? Yes." She opened her mouth to retort but he quickly gave her a look and replied, "Don't be mad at him, Illyria. He did not even agree with my choice but I had to. For the sake of keeping things simple and easy when we were able to meet you were able to now be trained by me."

She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward over the table, "Why would you think I'd agree."

The lights flickered slightly above them.

Maglor (and surprisingly Maedhros as well) gave an unimpressed glance to the mortal sorceress.

Illyria huffed back, "Okay ignore that but you know what I mean."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: South of Middle Earth, Arda

Time: 1000 S.A

After a decade, Lokachari found himself walking across the southern coast of North Endor. A decade since his first travels to the multiverse of Ea, slowly learning more and more about the secrets of the Silmaril and controlling its power through time and space.

Suddenly he saw the wave begin to crawl back, a great force making him capture his eyes as the water began to trickle through the rocky crevices and sand. Soon, the water began to form a figure, a translucent form of a man which brought his heart to skip a beat.

Fear and worry begin to surge up to him, ready to flee in an instant.

But as soon as he heard the Vala's deep voice echo into his mind, telling him that he would not harm him, he closed the Gem before he stared back at the Lord of the Sea.

"Kanafinwë."

He lowered his head slightly, centuries of learning to respect the great Valar despite what little they have done. However, he knew from his journeys that out of all of them – only a few felt safe and had a slight trust in them, such as Lady Nienna and the Vala in front of him.

With an elven greeting, he called out to the Vala his name, "Lord Ulmo."

The great lord of the waters and seas of Arda surprised him, who in turn lowered his head in response before he echoed out in Sindarin: "I hope your journey was enlightening."

Lokachari widened his eyes in astonishment.

Ulmo's eyes twinkled under the moonlight.

"You sent me there?" He peered at the Vala, asking boldly, "Why?"

The Vala's face somehow morphed into a blank slate, though by the tone of his voice – worry began to seep through their minds. "Because your future," Ulmo began, "The children of Eru...they are in danger."

He could feel the Vala asking his permission to enter his mind, hesitating for a moment until he allowed them. Soon, Lokachari saw the future visions. What Ulmo saw before entering Ea...a prophecy which had always been told to elves of Aman like ghost stories.

Dagor Dagorath.

The battle of all battles was true.

Lokachari flicked his gaze to him and spoke aloud, "From Morgoth? Will he return?"

"Yes. But also it will be our undoing," Ulmo replied gravely.

For once in many decades, fear and all the problems and issues he pushed away were now brought back to the surface of his mind.

It took a few days to try and comprehend everything that Ulmo told him.

Ulmo chose him as his...champion of some sort.

He would never consider himself a child of Ulmo, no matter how much his heart wrenched at how the words Ulmo spoke about him. How Ulmo had forgiven him all those years ago when he saved the Peredhil twins and Elemmírë, learning to atone with his actions and growing once more from the grief and guilt despite still evident in his heart and soul.

How Ulmo told him that his family – despite their actions – could be redeemed such as him.

It was why he was full of tears when he was brought to Ulmo's halls, finding the elleth with bright red hair and eyes the colour of jade. His knees went weak as she began to walk up to him, her hands cupping his cheeks.

He stared down at her as he whispered, "Ammë..." Lokachari felt her fingers wipe his tears away. "Mama. I miss you."

Nerdanel embraced her long-lost son tightly, his silent tears whilst his shoulders racked. When she pulled away, she spoke softly in return, "I miss you, Мой сын." Her lips lifted into a saddened smile as she stated, "Вы изменились." [1][2]

"Земля изменила меня." He felt himself return the smile; his voice hoarse from his crying. Once hurried to compose himself, he began to tell her exactly what happened. "I met her. Your young friend's first guardian. Her name is Isolde." [3]

Nerdanel pursed her lips, showing her familiar side smile as she trailed off, "Isolde..." As she paused for a moment, she changed the subject and ushered him towards a quieter room in Ulmo's halls. "Come. We have much to speak."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Maglor's Safehouse, Norway, Earth

Time: August 2027

Illyria spat out her tea.

He wasn't expecting it to rain inside the cabin this evening, and unfortunately, he was not prepared with an umbrella.

"Ulmo knew all this time!?" Her jaw dropped onto the table, "About the Noldor?"

Wiping the droplets of saliva and jasmine tea, Maglor inhaled and nodded at her.

"Yes. And only we could know of this. The more who know, the more at risk the Noldor will be." He explained, waving his hand over his tea to utter a simple cooling spell. Once it was the right temperature, he took a sip before he continued to tell his tale. "Ulmo knew of the plans of the Valar and informed me...and our mother, Nerdanel, of this. Our plan has been rooted ever since. Slowly but surely trying to wait for the opportunity."

Maedhros, his grip on his mug incredibly tight, questioned: "And he knew there was always a way through the worlds?"

"Ulmo knew the Silmarils had more than just a significance to our house. That they possessed more than just light power and a source of life." He thinned his lips, peering back at both his brother and Illyria as he added, "In the beginning, I did not trust his choice. Obviously, I wondered if he was taking advantage of the skills set before me and my mother but if she trusts Ulmo enough...then it seems it was better to be on one Vala's side than neither at all."

He watched both ocean eyes meet the murky light blue and grey ones of Maedhros'.

Maedhros blinked before he slowly began, "This...this helps our plan."

Illyria furrowed her brows and replied, "What plan?"

"The one we've discussed in Mithlond." Maedhros hinted, obvious to Maglor that he wasn't involved in said plan. Of course, he would know eventually the details.

He could already tell what his brother and Illyria meant.

There was nothing to trick someone who saw the possible future.

"Oh." The memory finally clicked into place as Illyria perked up, asking back, "You think it'll work?"

The hope in her voice made Maglor internally smile, seeing the light slightly glow brighter in the young sorceress' eyes whilst Maedhros nodded. "Having not just the elves, but the men and dwarves and other beings fight alongside us could help." He paused, thinning his lips in a displeased look. "But Sauron is a threat to the East."

Not just the east. To Maglor, he knew in his agenda that there was more in the shadows. Beyond the known world, the elves of Middle Earth knew about Sauron and his influence on Arda. He mentally cursed himself for forgetting to inform the rest, noting that he would have to leave at some point to know what was going on in the other parts of Arda.

"Then we help them," Illyria firmly spoke, a determination evident in her posture as she leaned forward to them. "Help them fight Sauron and push him back until all he could do is go to Morgoth."

Maedhros' face wore a sort of pride in his eyes, something which he remembered vividly even after everything Maglor had been in. However, he could never remember the most important people in his entire life, knowing how much these two were destined to be entwined in the fate of it all.

With a twitch of his lips, he drank more of his tea before inputting himself back to the conversation. "But I would like to input one thing. They likely have the other Silmaril and they will choose to use it."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Location: Kamar-Taj, Tibet, Earth

Time: 1500 C.E

The evening arrived when Lokachari entered the Sanctuary. 

Perhaps dragging his physical body was more accurate.

As soon as he was inside, his first instinct was to go to his room, wash up and then collapse on his bed and sleep. But his little taste of final relaxation after travelling the multiverse of his world would have to be delayed as he found them already waiting inside the main study hall as he passed by. He stopped once he saw the small candlelight on the table, spotting the yellow robes clearly in the middle of the room.

With a heavy sigh, he trudged over (or how an elf could possibly trudge over that is), pulling his hood down before he found himself looking back at his longtime friend.

Isolde wondered to him, "Seventy years and you have covered, what: five realities in the span of nine thousand years?"

He should have guessed his friend would wait for him, knowing he might have been late this time around.

Maybe a year or two later than what he anticipated.

Unfortunately, battling Ringwraiths in Modern Middle Earth was quite a handful. Especially when their master could equip them with guns and other artillery. Thankfully he had some help (which consisted of the variants of Thranduil Oropherion, Tauriel and the sons of Elrond to his surprise).

Didn't mean he left their reality unscathed.

He found himself tilting his head to the side, giving her a tired smile in return. "Nine or ten give or take," Lokachari gestured to her in a teasing tone, "I'm getting as old as you, mellon."

The Sorcerer Supreme's eyes lit up in amusement.

"You have exhausted yourself. Perhaps travel more traditionally," She suggested, "Or perhaps aid me with teaching, finding me some recruits."

Humming to himself, the prospect was persuading him to do so. Travelling was perhaps something he had grown to enjoy, never staying put for too long and always making sure his mark wasn't too obvious in other worlds. It did get tiring after a few thousand years, and between the realities, he had always stopped at the Sanctuary to rest and get informed on what's been going on in this universe.

"I could," Lokachari answered before an idea sparked his interest in staying. "Actually, I'd like to make something. A relic of some kind, though perhaps not harbouring a cosmic singularity in it."

She quirked an eyebrow, piquing her interest before she softened her gaze and replied, "This is your home. You are free to use whatever is available."

____

[1] - First translation (bear with google translate sorry): 'My son' in Russian.
[2] - Second translation: 'You have changed' in Russian
[3] - 'Earth has changed me.' in Russian.

____

A/N: More Maglor and Ancient One scenes just to add more between these two. Don't worry, we'll head back to Illyria and co soon. I just wanted to show more of them before we jump back to the present.

You can tell from Maglor that he's changed a lot over his long life. But unlike elves: he's experienced way more than they would and that's why he stands out from the rest of his family and people.

It's kind of obvious now who Maglor and his brothers' mother is, but I won't tell you guys just yet. ;)

____

Edited: 26/09/2022