Wade twirled a magnificently crafted quill in his hand.
The shaft was a pale golden color, etched with fine, dense magical runes. The long, straight feather was pure white like snow, and at the joint, delicate silver threads were interwoven into a spiral pattern, forming the shape of a bird in flight coiling around the quill.
This was the result of several days of collaboration between Wade and Nicolas Flamel.
Since it had started as a whimsical project, neither of them had considered the cost of materials.
And in Flamel's collection — which included virtually every kind of alchemical substance — he didn't hesitate to use even the rarest and most expensive components on this small, enchanted quill.
The brand-new Daydream Quill did not disappoint. The dreams it wove were astonishingly lifelike — so much so that if not for the faint lucidity the spell always preserved in the user's mind, one wouldn't be able to tell the difference between dream and reality using just the five senses.
And realism was only the surface-level advantage. Its greatest feature was that it could automatically and continuously write new dream sequences, sustaining the daydream for as long as the stored ink lasted.
No skilled alchemist could resist the urge to make a newly created magical item even more perfect.
Although Wade and Flamel had previously designed a series of "anti-addiction" safeguards, Flamel had reworked this particular quill so that the daydream would continue until the ink was fully used up.
Until the dream ended, the user essentially lived inside a completely real world.
Of course, this was a one-of-a-kind quill. All other Daydream Quills remained the standard version, with a maximum dream time of thirty minutes.
After finishing the modifications, Flamel reluctantly handed the quill to Wade.
"Why?" Wade asked. "This is your creation — you could easily keep it."
"No…" Flamel shook his head. "The gift you gave me is enough. As for this one… it would make it too hard for me to return to reality."
The old man looked at Wade and gave him a helpless yet serene smile.
"I'm old, Wade… Too old to keep resisting the longings in my heart. It would be far too easy for me to fall in love with such an illusion."
He slowly stood up and shakily walked over to the wall, gently touching two long wooden boxes resting on a shelf. One was the gift from Wade; the other was one of the test prototypes they'd worked on over the past few days.
"I'll keep these two. But even so, I won't use them often… I'll save them for the very end. Then, together with Perenelle, I'll embark on the long night — in the most beautiful dream."
Perenelle — Flamel's wife — had also lived for over six hundred years.
Wade had met her just the day before. Though she was a few years younger than Flamel, her magical power wasn't as strong, and perhaps for that reason, she looked even older than he did.
The Elixir of Life didn't truly keep them young. Perenelle's complexion was as pale as paper, and she already looked halfway into the underworld.
Despite trying to be warm and welcoming, she had spoken only a few sentences before appearing completely drained of energy.
Hearing Flamel's words, Wade raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. He wanted to say something but held back.
Flamel immediately understood and chuckled. "Let me guess — that guy Murray told you not to ask me about the Philosopher's Stone?" He waved a hand. "It's fine, you can ask, Wade. What alchemist wouldn't be curious about the Philosopher's Stone?"
Since Flamel had opened the door, Wade asked boldly.
"Sir, did you really destroy it?" Wade asked curiously. "What if… when that moment comes, you end up regretting it?"
Flamel laughed softly and held out his hand, turning it over to show both sides.
His palm looked like it had been molded from white clay—colorless and bloodless. His fingernails appeared like layers of peeling paperboard.
"Look at me, child… just look at me…"
Flamel said gently, "Even if no one says it aloud, I'm increasingly aware that I no longer resemble a living person… I'm more like an alchemical construct that had a soul injected into it."
"No… in fact, your magical dolls look more alive than I do."
"I feel like a ghost from six hundred years ago. Though I've stolen some time from the cracks of history, Death has always stood at my back—never once leaving me. I'm the ashes left after the coal has burned out, without warmth, not even sure if I'm truly real."
"For me and Perenelle, immortality has long ceased to be a blessing. It feels more like a curse from the gods."
"So yes, I destroyed the Philosopher's Stone. Because—just as you said—I know all too well how greedy I am for life, and I feared that at the end, I'd suddenly lose the courage to move forward."
"So you left yourself no way out," Wade said with quiet admiration. "But isn't that, in itself, a form of courage?"
"No, Wade." Nicolas Flamel shook his head.
"True courage is what Albus Dumbledore has. No matter what lies ahead, he never shows fear. Even if the road is completely dark, he'll still choose to be a guiding light… but me? I chose to run away."
The candlelight flickered, casting warm shadows in Flamel's eyes. In that flame, Wade saw reverence—and regret.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Wade asked softly.
"Yes." A smile tugged at the corners of Flamel's lips. "You know, I once thought about giving the Philosopher's Stone to him. He's only one-sixth my age. To me, he's still a young man, with a long road ahead of him. But… Do you know what he said?"
Wade: "…Death is but the next great adventure?"
"Ah, you've heard that one too, haven't you?" Flamel chuckled. "He also said… he had found something far more precious than eternal life…"
The old man looked into the boy's clear eyes, and it was as if he could once again hear Dumbledore's unwavering response—
"I don't need eternal life, Nicolas."
"The continuation of life doesn't reside in a cold stone—it lives in the eyes of the young."
"When I see the light in their eyes, see them flipping through books in the library, running across the grass, when I see them learning to summon the light of magic from their wands… I feel as though my life and my thoughts continue on in another form."
Wade waited a moment. Seeing Flamel lost in thought, he couldn't help but gently ask:
"The thing more precious than immortality… is it 'love'?"
Flamel answered softly: "No. It's you… and children like you. In Albus's eyes, you are the true Philosopher's Stone."
Wade was stunned.
"He made me realize how foolish and arrogant my avoidance of death was—true immortality lies in legacy."
Flamel smiled and said, "Wade, I once wanted to give all my books and research to Dumbledore. But then I thought, he already has more than enough to deal with. So… would you be willing to accept this gift?"
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