"So you wish to make me a slave?"
Ansas could not contain his disgust, though he spoke in a very controlled manner.
"You are an idiot. If I wanted to make you a slave, I could do so with a wave of my hand. Do you think I couldn't?"
"Then why don't you?"
"Because you would only be a shell of what you could be. I can't make you grow stronger if you are under my influence. You are no value to me under those circumstances."
"But why do you think I would serve you as an ally?"
"Because once you see how much more you can be, you will understand what I offer. I can give or take away the ebony energy at my discretion. If you turn against me, you will give up everything. If you take advantage of the opportunities I offer, you will grow more powerful by the day."
And so it was laid bare before Scheff. He did have a choice to make. If he agreed, he would link himself to Ansas in more ways than one. He might not be a slave, or even a servant, but he would be at the sorcerer's call. Further, the power of Scheff's magic would not be completely his own. That did not sit well with the elf. It was not simply a matter of associating with the brusque sorcerer, it meant accepting a different kind of subordination. Even as he was gaining a level of independence by releasing the shackles of camp elders and traditional elf beliefs, he was tying himself to the whims of the sorcerer. He did not wish to trade one suffocating constraint for another.
He almost refused, almost created his own portal back to Uton, but in the end, he decided everything had a cost. A deeper desire grew stronger than his concerns. He voiced that craving to Ansas to ensure he would receive the proper compensation for his collaboration.
"It is not just powerful magic I am after," Scheff admitted. "When you talk of what I could become, I believe I understand what you mean. There is something within me, something of great significance. I know I can be more than I am. You said 'legendary,' but I believe I can be something even more. I do not wish to be one more elf in the legends of elflore. What is elflore but a collection of myths?"
"I don't bother with such trivialities," Ansas responded with disregard to the myths of Scheff's race.
"That is exactly my point. I will not be trivial. I can surpass the legends."
"An interesting ambition, but surpassing the legends is nothing more than comparing yourself to long dead elves."
"That may be true," Scheff acknowledged, "but I must accept my current station. I am nothing but an ordinary elf with a special ability to control violet magic."
"And that's not enough for you," Ansas noted while comprehending the craving in the elf's voice.
"No, it is not. My aspirations go beyond simply casting spells with efficiency and skill. I do not wish to look to external sources. You, your ebony magic, even the violet magic that I can control now; all of that is inconsequential. It is all outside of what I am. I want to advance, to evolve. I do not wish to simply cast spells of power based on the energy I can wield. I want the full power of the storm to bend at my whim. I want to become the storm."
Ansas tilted his head at the elf, at first in curiosity and then in appreciation.
"It seems you do have some idea of what I'm talking about, because that's exactly what I'm offering. You have an inner talent, a skill that you can either waste or expand. If you wish to step beyond being a skilled spell caster and toward becoming an elemental force, you have to devote yourself to that inner ability. You must become the lord and master of your ambition, the director of your path. For you, there is nothing but your grasp over the violet hue. As I said to the other elf, the magic must serve you. You do not serve the magic. Unless you can accept this one principle, you will never reach your intended goals."
"I understand."
"Good, then follow me."
Ansas led Scheff back to the small wooden house that served as the sorcerer's home in the otherwise bleak realm of monsters and chaos. As they walked, not one creature dared molest them in any way. The dark creatures that lay in wait for prey could sense the power in the sorcerer and they wanted nothing to do with him.
Upon entering the house, they moved through the corridor and back to the sorcerer's study. Three other individuals waited inside, but Ansas did not bother to acknowledge their presence as he moved to his desk. He had called to them as he walked with Scheff and their attendance was expected.
Before sitting in his chair, Ansas pointed to a spot on the floor.
"Stand there and don't move."
Scheff obliged but felt uncomfortable as all eyes were upon him. He looked upon the three strangers that regarded him with both interest and suspicion. Two were human, a man and a woman. The third was an infern, a half-demon dressed in black armor with a white hot face.
"His hue is violet but there are many impurities within him," Ansas announced to the others. "I will need you all to help purify him."
The command appeared to alleviate the suspicions of the three spell casters as well as invigorate their attention to the newcomer. It was as if Ansas was offering up the elf as a late afternoon snack.
Scheff's discomfort grew, but he held his tongue. It was not trust that kept him quiet, for he had none for any that were before him. He doubted any of them would be true to their word, regardless of the circumstances. They had their own interests to guard, as did he. It was his own desire that kept him still, and that desire began to burn.
As he stood in that small room, he felt an extremely distinct and very unique aura of power around each individual. The more he probed the energy around them, the more apparent it became. As his sight adjusted to the pulse of magic, he believed he could see a cloud of dark red envelop the male human, while a mist of navy blue encircled the female. The infern glowed constantly, but its white face and black armor suddenly appeared immersed in a haze of burnt orange.
He realized he could see the brilliance of their undiluted hues, their individual focus purified in the most precise manner. They had also agreed to Ansas' terms and found glorified legitimacy in the concentrated nature of their inherent abilities. Red, blue, and orange; the color of each was deeper and darker than he had ever seen before in any realm of existence.
Scheff reveled in his decision, believing he would find the same vivacity in the violet essence within him. He foresaw his individual supremacy in the sheer magnificence of a titanic storm.
He almost laughed at the three spell casters there to assist in his transformation. What were they? Land, water, and fire; insignificant to the potential of his path. The pure ferocity of a storm was more than just a cataclysmic tempest raging over land and water. The storm was the raging fury of gods. He stood at the doorstep of transcendence, of becoming a god himself.
The consideration was intoxicating and the perspective forced further self-examination. He thought of his previous advancements, how proud he was to reach the skill of casting in a perfect circle. He once thought he might reach the proficiency of white magic. A renewed contemplation on that empty ambition caused him to shift his amusement and laugh at his own ignorance.
What did he need with other hues? Why should he dilute himself? To cast in white meant ignoring the very power that was his and his alone. Just as he stated to Ansas, he grasped tightly to the belief that he did not need to reach out to some exterior force. He only had to develop the violet hue deep within himself and he would ascend into a higher being, become an immortal of elemental dominance.
"I want to begin," Scheff stated.
"We are about to," Ansas replied. "Do you think I would waste time?"
Scheff smiled slightly.
Ansas leaned back in his chair as he regarded the elf with greater care than he normally allowed. With near boredom, he described what Scheff should expect.