Epilogue
Stephen came into his bedroom, finishing drying his hair, a towel around his waist. Tossed a glance around for Cloak. He was somewhat surprised not to see it floating close to its' favorite item, the speaker, listening to music. It had barely left it, in the last three days since its release from the Gyve.
Brow furrowed, he called,
'Cloak?' but received no appearance from his crimson companion.
He gave a sad sigh, draped the hair towel around his neck, headed to the Relic Room.
He found Cloak there, hovering in front of the case containing the Gyve.
This had become its' other most frequented spot.
It seemed an obsessive behavior, which was upsetting.
Cloak had also been very distant, oddly restrained, since its' return, and Stephen had no idea how to find out why.
Or, what he could do to help relieve its' obvious distress.
With a scowl, he remembered what Wong had said; within the Gyve, hours were like years. That being true, he had no idea how many years it had seemed to Cloak…decades? Longer?
It could certainly help explain its' current demeanor.
'Hey,' he said, softly, and Cloak turned toward him.
'I'm going to go out, shop for some wine, and cheese. Would you like to come?' he offered.
Cloaks response was much subdued. Rather than the energetic loop he'd come to expect, it merely pointed to itself with its hem edge, questioningly.
'Yes, you,' Stephen replied, gently, 'WE are supposed to go visit Doctor Palmer tomorrow night, and I promised wine, and cheese.'
Cloak's reaction to that was a bit more animated, as it followed its Chosen back to supervise his wardrobe selection.
Once he was attired to his Cloaks' satisfaction, Stephen asked, firmly, but kindly,
'May I see the stitches I put in? I want to make sure they're holding.'
Cloak came close, offered its' folds, and Stephen's expression was both elated, and confused.
Everywhere he'd repaired Cloaks' damage, there was a beautiful new design, almost like a scar, following the edge of each tear. He pulled its' hem close, saw the tatters were nearly gone, and its' glorious soft scarlet finish was nearly restored. He hadn't realized that Cloak would actually heal.
It was quite a concept.
He offered a huge grin, and Cloak gave his hand a gentle squeeze, clearly of thanks.
Stephen gave a long look out the window, realizing the sun had already set, and darkness was falling in his bedroom.
He couldn't suppress a tiny, gratified smile, that he didn't have to worry about that, anymore.
'Shall we?' he suggested, heading out toward the main foyer, and Cloak swirled to his shoulders, giving its' Chosen an extra little snuggle as it settled in.
Stephen laughed,
'I'm glad you're back, too,' and headed out onto the street.
Darkness had completely claimed the study, except for the usual low glow emanating from the streetlights, outside.
Into the silence, came a sharp rattle, as if something were caught in a metal can.
The waste can alongside Stephen's desk wobbled.
A ragged, tattered, smokey fold appeared, over the edge, gripping the can to pull itself up. The ebon cloak, its' form still repairing, crawled up, surveying the empty room.
Listening, waiting.
Its' collar twitched, as it waited for the rest of itself to reassemble. It tumbled over the edge, onto the floor. Lay there, long minutes, waiting for all its' ash to rejoin into one.
Gathering some energy, it began to crawl. Growing stronger as it moved, relentlessly, thru the shadows, toward the Relic Room.
Towards its' Master.