With great power comes great sacrifice. To gain use of this divine relic, you must first offer something invaluable in return.

Those words danced about the decrepit cavern in almost macabre cadence, taunting the young man who stood before the talking altar, bastion of mortals who implored the divine to act on their behalf. Their power drove him to a knee, sucking the breath clean out of him. He was but an illegitimately aged young adult, nowhere near the late teenager he appeared, and he had nothing of import with which he could part.

His head bowed as he caught his breath, and his father slowly strode toward the altar from the cavern entrance some fifty paces away while the son's mind reflected upon the arduous journey to acquire that was needed to see this through. But even that appeared to fall short of the requisite compilation.

Thoughts flooded his mind, mostly of the brother for whom all these tasks were carried out. He recalled the countless times where his mother was labeled a viper, and his father a hero only to himself, both slurs leveled by his embittered twin. How he turned out so different from the young man standing in the cavern was anyone's guess: Both were robbed of childhood through a terrible curse, yet one saw gains where the other saw loss. One felt sorry for himself whilst the other was determined to make it right, intent upon doing anything to accomplish the improbable feat.

Suddenly, his countenance softened. No longer was it the forcibly hardened expression of a troubled young man, grown up before his time. Instead, the almost angelic mien of a boy took hold. Eerie as it was, it remained even though his eyes clearly told how frightened he was of the thought that had struck his mind. There was one card he could play, but only one, or he could fold and admit defeat. In his mind, he had no choice. It had to be seen through.

It took a good minute or two to steady the nerves, and he somehow mustered the temerity to rise up and gesture toward his father to halt his steps, before facing the altar again. There was a steely resolve, even defiance perhaps, evident throughout his gaze as he gave the pool atop the altar a discerning stare. His lips parted after what seemed an eternity, giving way to words for the first time.

What he said forced the air from his father's lungs and compelled the older man to double over, like a ferocious body blow to the abdomen: "I... I'll give myself up. I'll change him back, but I'll give my chance up." Only now did he make the other man present his primary focus, pivoting slowly from facing the altar to regard his mortal idol.

Tears welled within both sets of varyingly blue eyes, but they did not make good on their threat to spill over the lids that fiercely held them at bay. Another moment passed, both gazes fraught with uncertainty and fear, but vocal dialogue had ceased. Exchanged nods revealed they both knew this was the only way.

The young man's throat tightened as he took the last step toward the altar, sparing a glance for the hero he so desperately wanted to emulate. But there was no heroism in his father's face that day.  No, his expression pleaded for this to be thought through. Alas, the trait had already been passed, and the son acted according to what he knew what must be done.

Removing the glove from his right hand, he reached into the opaque pool of magic, damning himself to premature and permanent adulthood so that his twin could have another chance to be a child and enjoy an upbringing less rushed, and more conducive to stability and normalcy.

Bitterness and venom wilted in his brother's heart upon the revelation of what had just happened. A tear crept from the jaded one's eye as, with a blinding glimmer of light, he was made whole once more, reduced to what he genuinely was — a mere child, incapable of understanding the world's plight. But the memory of what was done remained ensconced safely within the boy's heart.

That would have to be enough satisfaction for the one responsible to bear his irrevocable burden. He had touched his brother's life in a way no other could rival. But there was now no saving himself.

He smiled through the tears: it was finished.