Laurent turned his back to Henry and looked at the flickering fire in the hearth. He stood there, solitary and somber.

"When I was Larsus," Laurent continued, his voice now filled with a sense of distant melancholy and regret for a past long gone, "I too believed in absolute justice, in a warrior's honor, in the invincible power of a nation, and in the eternal protection of the Archangels. I fought with everything I had, with my heart and soul, to protect Zephyros, to bring glory and prosperity to my homeland, to the people I cherished."

He gave a sad, fleeting smile.

"But then, through bloody battles, through irreparable losses, and through facing supreme entities that even the most Demigods feared, I slowly realized a harsh truth. Our efforts, no matter how great, were just a drop in the ocean."

He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking as the helplessness and fury of the past seemed to rise in him again.

"National interests, complex political schemes, the intrigues of powers across Tehra, the constraints of law, and the normal moral standards we held so dear... all of these things tied my hands, they held me back. They prevented me from acting decisively and effectively to deal with the real threats, the most dangerous enemies who were hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance to seize everything."

He looked out of the small window of the wooden house, where the white snowflakes were still falling relentlessly, covering the vast, desolate, and lonely land of Iskadra. His silent figure seemed to merge with the tragic landscape.

"Only when I agreed to give up everything that belonged to Larsus, fame, power, family, friends, and the responsibility of a national hero, could I truly be free." Laurent's voice was filled with a powerful conviction and a persistent sadness. " The recent attack on Aerion, while seeming cruel and senseless to you and many others, was a small part of a larger plan, a necessary 'bitter medicine' to awaken Zephyros from its complacency, stagnation, and the seeds of weakness silently destroying the nation from within."

He paused, giving Henry time to think, and then continued, his voice becoming more resolute. "It was also a way to break up the dark conspiracies and criminal networks of the Black Societies that were corrupting Zephyros from its roots. And most importantly, it was a necessary step to prepare for the much fiercer battles and greater challenges that are about to happen in the near future, battles that Zephyros will not survive if it doesn't change."

Henry listened to every word of Laurent, trying to process the shocking information he had just been given. He still felt a sharp contradiction in his heart, an unquenchable anger towards what had happened to his homeland and his loved ones.

He clenched the hand that held his Stormbinder. The pain and fury still burned inside him. But deep in his soul, a part of him was beginning to understand, or at least accept, the complexity of the situation. This was the helplessness of a hero when faced with choices too great and too painful, choices with no right answers and no easy paths.

He looked at Laurent, and for the first time, he saw not just a traitor, but a man of silent sacrifice. He respected Larsus's sacrifice, the courage of a man who dared to give up everything, even his own honor, to bear a greater responsibility. It was a mission that perhaps only someone like him, a person who had stood at the pinnacle of power and glory, and then dared to abandon it all to venture into the darkness, could truly understand.

However, that respect could not erase the resistance in his heart. He still couldn't accept the cruel methods and "above it all" attitude of the Sanctuary Enclave, or the price of innocent lives and happiness that had to be paid. Henry tried to process the information he had just been given. But then, another question, a doubt, rose in his mind.

"You said it was a bitter medicine to revive Zephyros. So... Karatyr, Grand Marshal Karatyr, he knew about all of this?" Henry finally asked, his voice filled with disbelief and a vague disappointment. "The supreme commander of Zephyros... he also accepted, and 'colluded' in your plan?".

Laurent nodded slowly. He looked into the fire, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "Karatyr is a brilliant leader, a shrewd politician. He understands better than anyone the current critical situation of Zephyros and what needs to be done to protect this nation from collapse."

He paused, as if to let Henry reflect on the complex nature of the leader he once respected. "The pact between him and me was not a 'collusion' in crime, as you think. It was a difficult choice, a difficult trade-off, but it was necessary for both sides in the current situation."

Laurent's voice became deeper, carrying the weight of strategic calculations. "Zephyros needs time to recover from its heavy losses, to purge the seeds of treachery from within, and to prepare for the much greater upheavals that are about to happen. And the Sanctuary Enclave also needs Zephyros as an important ally, a strong fortress in the center of the continent for the coming fight for survival of all of Tehra."

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"You said the Sanctuary Enclave considers itself above all others, sacrificing everything like pawns on a chessboard," Laurent stood up and walked to the door. "That's not wrong, but I will show you a justifiable reason." He led Henry to a place in Iskadra that no map recorded. It was not a cave or a castle, but a valley hidden behind gigantic ice mountains.

The air here was strangely silent; no snow fell, no wind blew. In the middle of the valley, there was something that made Henry speechless. A colossal skull, as big as a small mountain, with cracks that looked like deep ravines. Its empty eye sockets were as large as caves, big enough to hold an entire army.

An ancient, majestic, and sorrowful presence radiated from it, making the cold air of Iskadra stand still. He pointed at the skull.

"Come closer, Henry. Touch it, use your Mystic Sense to feel it. This is my gift to you, a lesson that no book can ever record." Henry hesitated. He felt a strange resonance between his Mystic Sense and the colossal skull. It was both inviting and threatening. But he knew this was a part of the path he had chosen.

He stepped forward, his trembling hand touching the cold bone. In that instant, Henry's world exploded. His Mystic Sense resonated violently with a similar power that had been dormant for hundreds of thousands of years in the skull. He was no longer Henry.

He felt like he had become someone else. He saw the entire life of this creature, as if he had lived every moment of it himself.

He was a king. He felt the worship of millions of creatures, heard their praises. He was a king revered by all, a protector, a symbol of power and justice. But then, his Mystic Sense evolved. He felt the treachery, the conspiracies in the shadows, the jealousy of the weak. The fear of betrayal and the obsession with absolute safety turned into a consuming desire for power, a boundless killing frenzy.

Countries were torn in two by a single flick of his tail. Mountains were shattered when he landed, and the seas parted when he flew. And then, he saw himself plunging the world into a sea of fire. All life was almost wiped out. He saw great cities collapse under his feet, heard the screams of billions of living beings.

The power of the Demigods was nothing but grass before him, crushed with ease. He saw mythical creatures, the gods of religions, all of them helpless and trembling before his wrath. He was the Tyrant, the Catastrophe, the Apocalypse.

The life of destruction ended only when another creature appeared. A magnificent dragon, carrying the light of sacrifice and the power of the race he had massacred. The final battle shook all of Tehra.

And then, he felt the dragon's claws pierce through his heart, feeling the darkness slowly take over everything. Henry pulled himself away from the skull, fell to the icy ground, panting, cold sweat pouring from him. The spiritual shock was too great, as if he had just lived the entire life of a tyrant.

"This is..." he stammered, his voice trailing off.

"This is the skull of the Dragon King Dracologia. He, like you, possessed Mystic Sense. That is why you were able to resonate and read the memories of a creature who once owned it. Your ability allows you to see what he went through."

He walked over to Henry, looking down at the trembling young man. "That was a disaster that the Sanctuary Enclave failed to prevent from the beginning," Laurent said, his voice as cold as ice.

"Tehra had to pay the price of an entire era, the Fourth Epoch, and the extinction of almost all dragons and countless other living beings." Laurent bent down, his voice like ice knives piercing Henry's mind.

"Now, do you understand why we must act? Do you understand why we must be ruthless? A nation bleeding, or all of Tehra consumed by fire, which one would you choose?"

Henry couldn't answer. He could only look at the colossal skull, at the empty eye sockets of a tyrant. For the first time, he truly understood the burden that the Sanctuary Enclave was carrying. It was not the burden of a nation, but the burden of an entire world.

It was the burden of all life on the brink of annihilation. Laurent did not try to convince Henry to believe or accept what he had just said. He simply presented the truth, the bitter choices, and the inevitable consequences in a world full of dangers and uncertainties.

He left Henry to contemplate, to struggle with his inner turmoil, and to make the final decision about the path he would choose.

"The path of the Sanctuary Enclave is not for everyone, Henry," Laurent said, his voice returning to its emotionless state, like a stern warning. "It demands sacrifice, ruthlessness when necessary, and the ability to accept the most unsparing truths. Truths that can shatter every belief and ideal you have ever held and fought for."

He his gaze penetrating and questioning. "Do you have the courage and will to walk that difficult and challenging path? Or will you choose a more peaceful life, a more convenient oblivion? But that could also be a short and meaningless existence, staying in Aerion, trying to protect what little remains with your limited ability, waiting for the day disaster strikes again?"

Henry looked at the white snowflakes still falling relentlessly on the surrounding mountains, covering the entire vast land of Iskadra. He didn't know the answer to Laurent's question. He only knew that this fateful meeting and these shocking revelations had changed his perspective on this world and on the heroes he had once worshiped.

More importantly, it changed his perspective on himself and on the path he was about to choose a path that would determine his entire future. He felt an extreme loneliness, a sense of detachment that consumed his soul.

Who was he in this game of power, in the conspiracies and schemes of these forces? A cheap pawn, a tool in someone else's hand? Or was he the chosen one, a person who carried a mission that he himself couldn't fully understand?

His future, and perhaps Sophia's and his loved ones', was now more vague and uncertain than ever.

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