Sylas transformed into a phoenix, hovering above Saruman, and breathed out a stream of golden-red fire.
The flame didn't scorch the air; instead, it radiated a warm, almost gentle heat, yet the instant it touched him, Saruman's face twisted in terror. He struggled violently, desperate to escape.
This was Sylas's natal fire, the phoenix's rebirth flame. Normally a power of healing and renewal, but also capable of burning even a soul to ashes.
The golden-red flame struck Saruman's spirit and burst outward, engulfing him in an instant.
Saruman's soul writhed violently, black energy peeling off him like smoke as the fire purified it. His screams tore through the room; even a Maia could not endure such agony.
And still, his soul was too strong to be destroyed by Sylas's fire alone.
But Sylas wasn't alone.
Gandalf raised the Ring of Fire, Narya, flooding Sylas's flame with its power. The rebirth fire roared higher, fiercer, hotter, devouring Saruman's soul more quickly.
Galadriel used the Ring of Water, Nenya, forming an unbreakable barrier of flowing light that trapped Saruman, leaving him nowhere to flee.
Elrond unleashed the purifying light of the Ring of Air, Vilya, each wave striking Saruman's already-weakened spirit like a hammer.
Under the combined assault of the rebirth fire and the Three Rings, Saruman's once-brilliant soul grew dim and transparent. His strength dissolved, piece by piece.
Finally, all that remained of him was a faint, powerless wisp, barely more than a ghost.
The corruption Sauron had infused into him was completely burned away.
With that darkness gone, Saruman regained his clarity. His eyes, once venomous, quieted, softening with emotions he had not shown in centuries: regret, envy, old loyalty, and bitterness.
Under the burning phoenix fire, his expression became calm, almost peaceful.
"You must beware of Sauron," he said quietly.
Sylas's brows knit. "What do you mean?"
Suspicion flickered in his eyes, thinking Saruman might be trying to buy time.
But Saruman continued, unaffected.
"I was sent to infiltrate Hogwarts for three reasons," he said. "First, to gather information about the One Ring and seize it if possible. Second, to take the Philosopher's Stone, to reshape my body. And third… to corrupt the young wizards under your command, turning them toward darkness."
His gaze drifted toward Sylas, filled with resentment and reluctant admiration.
"I tried using the Dwarven Ring to corrupt them quietly. But that wretched Peeves interfered. Then the Black Death Plague failed… and you even captured the Ring of Power itself. All three missions failed because of you."
Sylas's eyes blazed with fury.
"You dare speak of that plague? Were you truly ready to unleash another Great Death across our lands?" His voice trembled with rage. "Letting your soul fade would be too merciful. You deserve to burn forever!"
Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel all looked at Saruman with the same cold, unforgiving hatred.
Saruman didn't attempt to justify himself.He simply gave a small, bitter smile.
"I did those things. I will accept what comes."
"But before I disappear completely," he said softly, "you must understand, Sauron still has a path left. The One Ring is no longer the only way for him to reclaim his full strength, though it remains the one he prefers."
But when reclaiming the One Ring becomes impossible, he will choose another path to regain his power, and once he succeeds, he will sweep across Middle-earth with overwhelming force to reclaim the Ring. When that time comes, no one in Middle-earth will be able to stand against him. Not even all of you together!"
Sylas and the others exchanged skeptical glances.
Sylas pressed him: "Besides the One Ring, what method could Sauron possibly have? What else could restore his strength?"
Even the Philosopher's Stone had only given Sauron a physical vessel, it did not restore the power he had poured into the Ring.
The One Ring contained the vast majority of his essence. Only by recovering it could Sauron return to his full might. That was why he had pursued it obsessively for thousands of years.
And now Saruman was claiming there was another method?
If Saruman hadn't looked utterly sincere, and had no reason left to lie, Sylas, Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel would have assumed he was spouting nonsense.
Especially Sylas.
Nothing like this had existed in the original timeline.
From the moment the Ring was lost until the moment of Sauron's final defeat, Sauron never sought any other method of restoration. He put everything into finding the Ring.
Could this be a butterfly effect caused by Sylas's intervention?
He doubted it, until Saruman's next words gave him the answer.
Saruman looked directly at Sylas, his gaze complicated, almost mocking.
"Sauron's second method of restoration… is tied to you, Sylas."
"Tied to me?" Sylas frowned.
Saruman continued, "Do you recall the Black Shrine?"
Sylas froze.
"What does this have to do with that?"
The Black Shrine was a place he had passed through while gathering materials for the Philosopher's Stone.
"You haven't forgotten the sacrificial circle in that shrine, have you?"
The sacrificial circle used for Morgoth…
Sylas's expression darkened.
He had destroyed it the moment he found it.
How could Saruman possibly know about that?
As if reading his thoughts, Saruman smirked faintly.
"When you traveled through the Path of the Dead, I used the palantír to observe you. Even though you erased the sacrificial circle immediately, you seem to have forgotten something."
Saruman's dimming spirit flickered like a dying flame.
"The palantír doesn't merely see across thousands of miles… It can peer backwards into the past as well."
...
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