As he spoke, without waiting for Dumbledore to answer, he smiled again. "Forget it. Why should a dying old man like me concern himself with such things?"
Dumbledore opened his mouth. He had so much he wanted to say, yet the words caught in his throat and would not come out.
Amid Dumbledore's complicated expression, Grindelwald slowly leafed through Vaughan's letter. After a long while, he set aside the final page and smiled faintly. "Amber light..."
He turned to survey the courtyard, which was likewise filled with amber radiance, and shook his head slightly. "Another old man nearing his end!"
"...Are you sure?"
"Of course. It's an obvious sign." Grindelwald smiled and held out his hand. In that withered hand, which possessed almost no magic left, the dusk light gathered in his palm like fire:
"I no longer have magic, but this light is a witness to my death—and the world's final gift to me. I can still control it as if I were controlling magic... That 'DeSantis' is in the same situation!"
As he spoke, his mismatched eyes fixed on Dumbledore, his smile unchanged. "You should know... You've seen it too!"
"It always pursues us along the path of our greatest talent. I excelled at Dark Magic and prophecy, so when I was just over a hundred, it descended upon me like prophecy and fate itself. 'DeSantis' seems to excel at memory magic, so it flooded his mind; even his creations could not escape it."
"And you... my dear, you excel at alchemy and forcibly peered into fate. It has already caught up with you in the Aether, hasn't it?"
Looking at Grindelwald's gentle smile, Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before letting out a long breath. "Yes..."
"Then you'd best avoid it. You still have much