Butler had paid a lot of money for the cottage. More than it was worth, but he needed to be able to stay close to where Hybras would return. Every day, he would wake up long before dawn, go through a series of exercises and calisthenics that would be considered torture for many people, and then go out to the shoreline and keep watch.

Time passed. People came and went, the Fowls, Juliet, Minerva. He was genuinely glad to see them, but as more and more time passed, he sank into depression. The Fowls were the first to stop visiting. They moved on, busy with the twins and the hardships that came with doing business the legal way.

Juliet was next. She loved her brother, but began to get depressed herself. She had always looked up to him, and could no longer bear to see the pillar of strength she knew as "Big Brother" crumble into nothing. Her visits became fewer, further between, until she no longer came to see him at all.

Minerva would visit the most. She had been there, knew more than the Fowls or Juliet, knew what was at stake. She would come during the school holidays, and sit with Butler through the long days along the shore. She got him to read, to try and lighten his burdens. Over time, she finished her schooling. She would now spend months at a time with Butler, studying, reading, even training with him a bit. The months turned to years until she realized she was becoming like him, a shell. One day she left, to re-associate herself with life. She never gave up, but she also knew the math. There were time when they were most likely to return, and they were becoming more and more infrequent.

Butler mourned her leaving, but did not let up his vigil. He became a sort of local celebrity. The villagers would come and sit with him, talk to him of life and tell him stories. He rarely spoke back, but he always listened.

One day, with a flash of light in the night, Hybras returned. The People were ready, and quickly all evidence was eliminated of the island, it's population already moved.

A shimmer dropped low over the rocky coast, low to the ground. A rectangle opened and out of thin air walked a boy, an elf, and a centaur. The last of this strange trio looked uneasy, fidgeting and occasionally laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. He barely noticed, walking quickly to a point near the ocean marked by a simple cross. When he reached it, he fell to his knees, head in his hands, at the message it bore.

Here lies Domovoi Butler

1962-2075