If we manage to gather ten main stones—a task that grays hair—we'll help him activate them. Each stone—crystallized might of ancient epochs when gods still walked the earth. Power without wisdom—a double-edged sword in children's hands.
We must prepare him. Not just teach spells—that's too simple. Temper the spirit, teach to control the all-consuming fire inside. After all, what is power if you don't know what to apply it for?
Preparation will take time we may not have. But no choice: either act risking all, or inaction losing all. No third given—like a bird can't choose between flight and fall.
And while we ponder, somewhere flowers bloom from all fields. They don't ask war for permission to bloom—just bloom, because that's their nature.
Maybe that's our mistake—think too much about strategy and little about what makes us human. But who knows? Perhaps this humanity will become our main weapon.
In the end, one who knows himself conquers fate. Or at least learns to dance to its music.