A vast sea of heavy clouds stretched out below, like rolling waves frozen in an instant by unimaginable power. Beneath the afternoon sun, the clouds were an exceptionally pure white; above them lay a blue sky so clear it seemed utterly free of impurities.
That unvarying color extended endlessly through the towering heavens, magnificent and solitary, possessing a tranquility and beauty almost divine.
Wade sat by the window, daylight streaming through the porthole across his profile. His eyes watched the scenery outside, but Grindelwald's parting words flashed through his mind—
"I don't want you to imitate me, nor do I want you to reject Dumbledore."
Gazing into the fire, Grindelwald spoke with great calm:
"I want you to see clearly that a true reformer is destined to build a lonely bridge of glass."
"In myth, the glass bridge connects the mortal world and heaven—it is sharp as a blade, narrow and fragile, and only the heroes of legend can cross it."
"Your bridge of glass, however, must have one end rooted in the mud of reality, drawing strength and stability from it, while the other reaches toward the clouds of ideals—do not let the mire drag you down until you forget where you are meant to go."
"If the world you dream of is to become reality, then the new world you create cannot contain only people who are pure, righteous, and kind. It must also have room for people like Barrett."
"You must make use of their inborn weaknesses to steady the unavoidable turbulence along the path of reform. And you must make use of that pitiful scrap of conscience in them to keep them from falling into complete depravity."
"Wade, everyone has corners hidden deep within their hearts that are not so glorious—fear, selfishness, vanity, greed, laziness... You