"Expelliarmus!"

Sylas apparated behind Saruman, his spell striking true. Saruman's staff, the one that rightfully belonged to Sylas, flew from the White Wizard's hand and snapped neatly back into Sylas's grasp.

Without hesitation, Sylas vanished again, reappearing several yards away before Saruman could counter.

Saruman's expression curdled into something dark and venomous. For all his pride as a White Wizard, he had not expected to be pressed so hard by a mere youth.

He raised his staff and chanted in deep, rolling Quenya, his voice reverberating through the barren landscape.

The skies blackened at once, heavy with thunderclouds.

Sylas's stomach tightened. His hair rose on end, the air charged with dread.

A heartbeat later, a bolt of lightning cleaved the heavens and hurtled toward him.

He apparated away just in time, only for lightning to strike again at his new position, as though the storm itself could see him. Each teleportation was instantly hunted down, bolts falling with unerring accuracy.

Then, from the distance, an owl Patronus came winging through the gloom. It landed lightly on Sylas's shoulder before dissolving into his chest.

Relief flashed across Sylas's face.

"They're finally here."

Saruman noticed his smile and felt an unease crawl down his spine.

"What are you grinning at?"

Sylas smirked.

"Smiling because you've walked straight into my trap."

Moments later, a figure swept across the storm-darkened sky, riding a broomstick.

"Sylas! I'm not too late, am I?"

Gandalf descended, his grey cloak billowing.

"If you'd been any later," Sylas quipped, "you'd have had to fetch me out of Orthanc yourself."

He glanced about, frowning.

"But where are Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond? Haven't they arrived yet?"

Gandalf's eyes twinkled faintly with apology.

"I rode from Edoras the moment I received your message. As for Galadriel and Elrond, they march first upon Isengard with the Ents. Once that task is done, they'll join us."

Saruman froze, his face blanching, then hardening into rage.

"Gandalf! What nonsense is this? Why would Galadriel and Elrond dare attack my domain? Do you mean to wage war upon me?"

Gandalf landed beside Sylas, his expression heavy, tinged with sorrow.

"Saruman… you were once our leader. Of the five who came from across the sea, you were the first among us, pledged to guide the Free Peoples and resist the Shadow. But you have strayed. You have bent to Sauron's will. Do you no longer remember your charge?"

Saruman's face twisted with fury, spittle flecking his lips.

"Do not slander me! For thousands of years I have labored ceaselessly against the Dark. My works and sacrifices cannot be cast aside so easily! You, Gandalf, have ever coveted my place. You, Galadriel, Elrond, your little cabal with your Elven rings, forever looking down on me!"

His voice rose, unsteady, almost feverish.

"Do not think I am blind! You wrapped yourself in false humility, currying favor with Círdan until he gave you the Ring of Fire. You wandered Middle-earth, whispering in the ears of kings, stirring wars, all to make yourself beloved, all to seize the mantle of leadership. You would play the savior, Gandalf, but only to rule!"

Gandalf listened quietly, then sighed, shaking his head. His voice was steady, calm as a mountain stream.

"Your heart is clouded, Saruman, by vanity and pride. I have never sought your throne. Never have I desired to rule. My only wish has been to aid the Free Peoples against the Dark, and one day to return to the West, when my duty is done. That has always been enough for me."

For an instant, doubt flickered in Saruman's eyes. But pride returned swiftly, hardening his features. His sneer was cold as ice.

"Fine words. But even Radagast has his ambitions. Do you expect me to believe you alone are pure, you alone without desire? Fool! You wear your mask well, but you cannot deceive me."

Gandalf sighed, gazing at Saruman's frenzy, and was about to speak again.

But Sylas, standing beside him, had lost his patience.

"Gandalf, why waste words? He's already fallen under Sauron's sway, long since turned traitor. It wasn't easy to draw him out this time, don't talk, just finish it!"

"Sylas speaks the truth," came a clear voice from above. "Those who surrender to darkness cannot be redeemed. Gandalf, you cannot call him back."

Elrond descended into view, standing tall upon the back of the Great Eagle Thorondor, a shining Elven blade in hand. His face was stern as he spoke.

Behind him swept the red-gold wings of Smaug, and upon the dragon's back sat Lady Galadriel, her hair gleaming like silver starlight.

The two Elves, the dragon, and the eagle closed in, forming a circle around Saruman.

"Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, you've come!" Sylas's eyes lit with relief and excitement.

Now it was four against one, with Smaug and Thorondor looming like living fortresses at their side. The balance of power was overwhelming.

"Thank you for holding him so long," Lady Galadriel said to Sylas, her voice gentle, a smile curving her lips.

Elrond's eyes too held admiration.

Sylas waved his hand humbly. "There was a moment of trouble, but nothing I couldn't manage. I didn't fail you."

After greetings, Gandalf asked gravely, "How went matters at Isengard, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond inclined his head. "All went swiftly. The Ents broke the walls and drowned the forges, sweeping aside the Wargs and twisted Orcs Saruman bred in secret. With Smaug and Thorondor's aid, Lady Galadriel and I breached Orthanc itself and sealed it, entrusting its keeping to the Ents, for now."

Then Elrond drew forth a palantír, dark and thrumming with a foul aura. His gaze fixed coldly on Saruman.

"You know this crystal well. We found it in your hidden chamber, along with the kennels of your Wargs, the pits where you bred your orcs, and even your sketches for forging new Rings of Power. What say you now?"

Saruman's face twisted, his mask stripped away. He knew he had been laid bare.

His voice was harsh. "When did you know?"

"From the first," Galadriel answered softly from Smaug's back, her eyes shining with sorrow. "When you reached out to Sauron, Sylas foresaw it. We lacked proof, and hoped against hope you would repent. But you have fulfilled our fears instead."

Saruman's expression curdled further. His eyes darted to Sylas, burning with resentment. "So it was you. Again and again, my plans undone, prophecy guiding your steps. I underestimated you, boy. I thought you merely meddled, but you were the knife at my back."

His face twisted with a snarl. "So this was your scheme? To bait me from Orthanc with this child, cut off my escape, and spring your trap?"

Sylas only smirked, shaking his head. "Wrong. But I won't tell you more, I've learned that villains always die because they talk too much."

Saruman's eyes narrowed in puzzlement, but before he could speak, Sylas raised his wand.

"Smaug, take him!"

The dragon roared, fire boiling in his throat. At the same instant, Sylas cast the Killing Curse, green light flashing from his wand.

For all the times Saruman had driven him to the brink of death, Sylas was determined to repay him in kind.

What Saruman never knew was that Sylas had sensed his gaze upon him days ago. Passing through Isengard, he had felt the weight of eyes watching. At first, he thought it was Sauron himself, probing through the palantír. But soon he realized the truth, it had been Saruman all along, spying with the Seeing-stone.

Sylas had long been wary of Saruman, and when he felt the White Wizard spying through the palantír, he knew ill intent was stirring.

But it was only when Saruman hurled lightning across leagues of sky to strike him that Sylas truly understood the gulf in their power. He had wasted no time in sending his Patronus to summon Gandalf and Elrond. That was how events had escalated to this moment.

Now, at Sylas's command, Smaug unleashed a torrent of dragonfire. The white-hot flames roared forth like a furnace blast, forcing Saruman to throw up his staff in defense, his face grim as he warded off the inferno while glancing warily at the foes closing in around him.

He no longer fought to win, only to escape.

The others saw it too. They exchanged a glance, then advanced as one.

Elrond, swift as the wind, leapt from Thorondor's back and struck in close combat. His Elven blade shone with cold light, cutting through fireballs and warding off Saruman's counter-spells in a dance of steel and sorcery.

"Saruman, yield!" Gandalf thundered, his staff ablaze with power as he sent a crashing wave of magic against the White Wizard. His voice rolled like storm over stone. "Lay down your staff and no further harm will come to you."

"Yield?" Saruman spat the word with venom, his face twisted in fury.

"Never! Not to you… not to anyone!"

He thrust his staff high. Its crystal flared, a column of white fire stabbing skyward. He chanted in the ancient tongue, syllables of power that rumbled like the deep roots of the world.

The heavens shifted. Clouds boiled black, rolling and knotting as though wrung by unseen hands. In moments, the sky was drowned in thunderclouds.

Then the storm broke.

Bolts of lightning, as countless as spears cast from the hand of a god, rained down. They fell with deafening fury, splitting stone, scorching the air.

Sylas's blood chilled. He had seen Saruman's strength before, but even he had not expected this.

The light of the storm made even Elrond and Gandalf blanch, their eyes narrowing in grim resolve.

Thorondor screamed in terror, wings beating hard to keep his distance. Smaug, proud and mighty, snarled and lashed his tail, but even he recoiled, dread writ upon his ancient heart. For the lightning that poured from the sky was no natural storm.

And then, Galadriel.

She stepped forward, calm as moonlight upon water. She raised her hand, slender and unyielding, and upon it shone Nenya, the Ring of Water. Its light blossomed into a dome of radiant clarity, a translucent veil that arched above them like crystal sky.

The storm struck.

Bolts of raw lightning hammered the shield, bursting in blinding detonations.

...

Stones PLzz

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