I altered Valoo's appearance from Wind Waker substantially. I mean, really, one would think he only got so rolly-polly after sitting on his big 'ole butt for five hundred years. No one starts out that big!
End of an Era
Chapter 13
Nayru, I'm so tired… my clothing feels clammy and damp, something rough grating against my skin as I move my face, slowly beginning to wake up. Cracking one eye open groggily at first I see nothing, the sound of waves crashing reaching me as from the darkness shadows and images begin to appear. Stones and shrubs form from the inky black, reflecting the light of the moon, which, as I roll over slightly, I can see it's full, pale face shinning down low in the sky.
I'm on the surface again and after being raised into the water must have drifted to what is now an island. But, looking around I can see now that the clouds… the rain: are all gone… The stars and sky are to clear and beautiful, each pinpoint of light almost dancing in their own sections of the endless velvet blue, that large hopeful moon, like a silver disk, watching over it all. It's all something I've been without for months; an end to the floods…
I notice something else as I watch the sky though, and I can feel a slight weight wrapped around me. Looking over my stained, soiled skirts, I finally acknowledge the arm draped over my shoulders, and the second one under me; pressed into the thin layer of dirt which hasn't washed away. Curled fingers shine palely in the moonlight as I can see the burnt appearance of the gloves which now end at the wrists. My memories are slow in coming though, and I don't press myself for details; I just want to remember the important parts.
The person asleep behind me is important; I know that for a fact.
Rolling onto my other side, I can see how the moonlight shines softly off of Link's face. His eyes are closed and his expression calm as he just sleeps, the pale light picking out the faint traces of blood across his cheek, as well as other details I can't normally see. I don't think I ever noticed how many scars he has; most of them so faint that you would have to be as close as I am now to find them. Those pale, lined areas of skin in the shape of slashes, perhaps from blades and explosions. Nayru, did I truly think that after a life of fighting he had never been injured?
Before I can even think it through I find the fingers of my right hand up, the tips running gently over those faded lines. I stop for a moment to remove the second glove I'm still wearing, before letting myself go back to tracing the marks. I don't know why but I just can't help myself, my fingers roam from his skin to his hair, combing gently through the tangled, blood-spattered strands.
Is it because he frightened me so badly? Down there in the Master Sword's Chamber, how his eyes went sightless and he became a dead weight in my arms? That fear and grief which ran through me before Nayru appeared with her arms around me, pulling me from Link as his body seemed to fade away. The Goddess could have ripped my heart out with her bare hands and it would have hurt less than seeing that.
I love him and he was almost taken from me, but it wouldn't have been the first time either. Master Hand stole Link from Hyrule before I was old enough to see what kind of man he could become, or even appreciate the potential. And that's what set off this horrible chain of events which lead to my hating him, when in truth it was that Hand and of course Ganondorf who deserved those feelings.
Now I know what kind of man he ca—no, that Link has become. If I had to watch him tempt the anger of the gods, and die for the sake of others to realize it, then perhaps I'm the one who should be hated… But, that doesn't change what he told me…
Lying close enough to see his all but hidden scars, it's no challenge to hear him breathing as well, each intake calm and even, not wheezing and painful like before. Tucking a few strands of hair behind one of his ears I at last take my eyes from his face, closing them as I rest the side of my head against his chest. It isn't uncomfortable at all, my eyes having been level with his chin this entire time. I can feel his heart beat through his clothing as I lay here; it's just like his breathing; calm and even.
I realize that we're both sleeping on the ground, but since we're already covered in filth I for one don't care. It feels right to be in Link's arms, and my fatigue from these past few days is catching up to me with a vengeance.
My eyes feel heavy as Link shifts slightly in his sleep, the movement waking me back up as he groans slightly, a sign that he's coming too as well. I feel him almost tense slightly, holding his breath as he seems more than a bit startled. Curling up even closer, my eyes shut themselves as I nuzzle up under his chin. My nose rubbing against the ties of his tunic as, despite his apparent tension, I relax into him, and after a moment he does the same.
"Where do you think we are?" I murmur softly, startling Link as he had been tightening his arms around me again. He must have thought I was asleep, and seems to think something important over, after a moment though, he continues with what he had been doing.
"I have no idea." Link whispers and I feel warm despite my wet clothing as his arms circle me again. My lips pulling up in a slight smile as I lift my head up; looking into his blue eyes which almost seem to glow in the moonlight. Something wavers back and forth behind them as he looks at me though, his peaceful expression from before having faded slightly behind a look of minute confusion and perhaps, apprehension?
It's my turn to tense this time as Link dips his head down slightly; his lips brushing against mine and making my head spin. I feel winded as I return the kiss gingerly, like there's a belt around my ribs squeezing the breath from me. We don't fall into a long, possessive kiss again, our lips just coming up to one another before pulling back repeatedly. I still feel short of breath as I roll onto my back, Link remaining by my side, but still leaning over and holding me close to him.
Closing my eyes with a gentle sigh, I tilt my head towards Link as I fold my arms loosely across my stomach. I would much prefer the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves over the crashing of small waves, but the world, although so much different now, seems, calm… It's as if there is a gentle echo of music floating across the water's surface. Like the songs our people have used for centuries to show gratitude to our gods, but even though that land and our people have changed, are lost, it makes me feel as if our lore will live on in the wind's breath.
"Do you hear that?" Link whispers softly, his breath brushing against my ear gently as I stir again, not having begun to sleep again with the sound of the waves, but feeling oddly comfortable were I lay. Allowing my eyes to slit open, I blink slightly as I feel him shift next to me; pulling his arm out from under me but keeping one palm on my shoulder as he sits up.
"A harp." It isn't an echo, it's real. Floating across the waves, drifting through the now still twilight air; I can here it. The gentle voice of a well-strung harp, it's stings being plucked slowly and with great care, as if the player knows little of the instrument, but much of the song itself.
Link rises to his feet a bit unsteadily as I myself sit up, I try to place my feet under myself to stand, but tip back slightly as my limbs feel as if they were lead. With a second try however I do indeed stand, moving a few steps to where Link has already wandered, almost directly to the water's edge. Gently, I slip the fingers of my right hand in between his own, standing at his side as the moon is now gone from my sight, having already been in the midst of it's decent and now lost behind the island behind us.
This is no beach though; the ground beneath us is sandy, yes, but mere weeks ago it would have been nothing more than a dry crag. I look up and behind us, inland a bit more, and see no clouds in the gently lightening sky, but a massive expanse of mountain. All around us, protruding all around the water before us, large pillars of stone, perfectly worked, although many now snapped and ending in jagged edges, show is the workmanship of the Gorons.
"Death mountain…?" I murmur as if asking a question. There are no clouds swirling atop it's now shrunken peak, but where else would Goron masonry be so plainly found? The gentle voice of the harp never fades as we stand there together, a moment later Link stirs, turning towards me and then looking past me.
"I think it's coming from over there." He states, nodding past me as I turn. A large rise of stone and earth, what I would once have assumed to be merely one of the various dips and edges of the mountain's side, seems to block us from what I would assume to be a larger expanse of what was once a barren mountain, now slowly becoming a beach.
The sand is unstable where it hasn't simply washed away, making footing difficult but not so that I would require help. The rise is not high, but looking down into the calmer waters, I can watch it simply vanish down at a sharp angle. It isn't very high, but before the rains it would have been a perilous climb.
Link is ahead of me, and once he reaches the top he quickly get's down onto his stomach, looking back at me as I give him a surprised look and placing one finger over his lips for me to be silent. Actually, I hadn't been about to question his stance, merely at last recalling his injuries, the blood on his clothing not having faded, but his face I can tell is no longer harmed, his stomach and back clearly unwounded now as he wouldn't be able to move otherwise. Certainly not crawl around on his elbows.
My gown is stained, bloodied, wet and dried and then wet and dried again, covered in dirt and any other grimes it may have picked up from the water we floated through, with all this in mind I feel no regret as I mimic him, climbing down onto my stomach as I crawl the last little ways up the ledge. It would be dry and dusty if not for the rains it has endured so recently.
The harp playing is clearer to me as I move to come up right next to Link. In fact, where the player is located, the curves of Death Mountain and the Goron pillars act almost like an amphitheatre.
I let out a slight gasp of surprise, my face breaking into a smile as it is not one solo person standing alone along the water's edge. A small fire crackles away in the midst of what appears to be a rough camp, newly pitched. The scattered men having tossed down their bold, now dented armor, weapons protruding from the rocky ground as one or two seem to be lounging under a wide arch made of stone. It was perhaps one of the wide arches which looped across the roads up to the mountain at various points, the road now washed away below us, but perhaps continuing on farther ahead?
Standing at the edge of the waters, just out of reach of the waves which are calmly lapping at the ground with little rhythm, I can see who it is who is stroking the harp's strings so carefully.
A Zora, his fins eaten away by the corrosive waters Ganondorf poisoned, clothed in dark red pants perhaps borrowed from some unfortunate refuges. His head ending in a point at his nose, the other end a fishtail now limp and hanging back along his neck, the fins on the tail have also been eaten away. Solid blue eyes are closed, even though it's hard to see, I can still tell simply by how he's standing there, the harp cradled gently in one arm as the fingers of his other hand move shyly across the golden strings.
There are other Zora around him as well, only a handful, perhaps six or seven, but they stand listening only a few feet away anyways. It takes a moment, before I realize something subtle about this scene, and begin to frown.
"They won't go in." Link murmur; voicing my own conclusions. Four Zora stand there, watching an listening to the harp's melodically voice as it drifts through the air. It sounds almost sad though, as if mimicking the feelings flowing through the group before us. They stand at the edge of what was once their home, but that home is now covered in clouds of toxic grime, to heavy to rise to the surface, to light to settle at the bottom, simply hanging around the corpses of their people, the ones who didn't die in a place where their forms could rise to the surface…
As all the peoples of Hyrule, and as all the people of each other land as well, the Zora bear scars as painful as ours, if not more. My people are demolished, hardly a fraction of lives remaining out of the great whole which once was. And now those who lived on the land by the river shall live atop islands in an ocean, but the Zora; a people who were bread from the sea, swimming in the wide birth of Jabu Jabu, now their expanded territory is one they cannot inhabit. Their way of life is dead. They could take the lower parts of the ocean now, far from their abandoned homes and clouds of murky death, but truly, is there any escaping the memories? Is there any hope of life in the very place so much death took place? The ocean which was once land reeks as heavily of death as their own lagoons now stagnant in the dark depths. Only these mountaintops made islands, and the wide, now clear sky above can grant any form of purity.
"It will take years before steady currents can establish themselves," I murmur after a moment, glancing at Link and finding his blue eyes already looking at me, "There water's are stagnant…"
"Many years for the currents to come, but the memories of these trials will remain fresh in the minds of every generation hereafter…" He replies. It would sound as if we were speaking formerly to one another, almost stretching it so. But I cannot bring myself to use English at the moment, Hylian is the only language which moves past my lips as we speak.
I recognize the harp in the Zora's hands, it's deep rose-wood handles held in place with a plate of gold, a face etched into it with wide lips and curling hair, golden strings drawn taught and singing softly as the sky continues only to lighten. The sun at last making its return to our drowned world, as if Nayru's harp bid it return…
"I wonder where the others are?" I say softly, looking once more to the harp and then back at Link, slowly though, I begin to retreat back down the rise, Link taking a moment before following. Somehow, I don't think I want to be seen by them, it would only cause more pain.
"We're turning to the mansion, aren't we?" Link asks; his voice a bit louder now as there's less chance of us being overheard. I move to stand at the water's edge again, close to where we woke up. However, like the Zora I feel uncomfortable allowing the waters to touch even the hem of my soiled gown.
"Master Hand is here, isn't he? Did he already take the other's back?" It seems as though neither one of us will actually answer the other's question. But it's as if that lack of answer is one in itself. We are going back, the Hand is here…
The sun, I can just barely see it, cresting the waves so slowly, as if peeking over just to catch a glimpse, and then pausing as if it knows naught what to think of the sight which it finds before it. A glorious land of greens swallowed by the murky waters before us.
I feel Link's fingers weave through mine as he comes to stand next to me, and my eyes burn and throat tighten. I feel a slight tug at my heart, but it pulls me in a direction I can't name nor truly describe. I almost don't notice it, but it tugs again, again, and then once more. Tug, tug, tug, I know it's Master Hand's pull, as if there are strings slipping around me, at elbows, knees, and heart, and if it were to pull them hard enough, as I know it's trying to, I'll dance just like the puppet he's making me into. Is this how everyone else feels? Unable to help but move along with his whims?
"I just want to see the sun." I whisper, closing my eyes slightly as I speak before opening them again. Link is silent at my side, saying nothing yet offering my hand a gentle squeeze as if to comfort me. Over the rise, I hear the harp continue to sing, its sadness not only felt in the hearts of the Zora, but now myself and Link as well. Our worlds are not for us to live in anymore. The Zora are no longer to live in the seas, and we are no longer to live in this world.
And then it stops, the harp's gentle voice quiets, the last note hanging softly in the air as the waves, uneven as they are, take pause, the wind dare's not stir, and the sun finally shows it's face. It's so bright, golden rays, brighter than any the Triforce could ever have hoped to shine with, spread across the still waves, rushing forth and painting everything in a shimmering yellow glow.
The world blurs to me, and I find myself needing to blink the tears from my gaze, feeling them trail down my cheeks, curl under my chin, and then fall at last onto the ground which slopes down like the mountainside it was, into the flood-waters which buried it's base. The waves begin to move again, lapping once, twice, and again, the wind at last carries that final note away from where any ear may hear it, and there are still none more to follow.
But then a sound. Blaring, hard, like a horn. It ripples across the water as the sun seems as if to give a slight flare, a shock of yellow light less blinding than before moving from it, rushing across the endless waves.
Again, the horn blows, but it isn't a horn. I turn my head around to the rocky span behind us, the one which trails up to the now cloudless peak of Death Mountain. The peak seems to shudder slightly high above us and out of sight. Dimly, I hear a deep rumble, and then feel a slight chock run through the ground beneath me. Link shuffles at my side slightly as if wary, before I catch sight of a slight cloud of smoke billowing high above us at an angle so steep I would have to step back in order to see it more fully.
Yes, and explosion, a few small pebbles come away from the mountainside and crackle down it's rain-washed sides, harmless as a plume of smoke rushes into the sky, breaking the clear blue expanse. One might perhaps find this event worrisome, but I take heart in it instead. Hyrule is flooded, but Subrosia- Din's most cherished land, burns on in the belly of the world. They are a people who will not suffer the same drastic changes as those of us here upon the surface.
"A dragon," Link murmurs, in time with my own thoughts as something long and slender soars out of the ashes before turning sharply to its left and bending around the mountain's peak and out of sight. That trumpeting blare sounds again, echoing through the empty air and causing the mountain to shift once more in the water.
It takes a moment for the mighty creature to reappear. Its smooth underbelly is pale and white, but almost tinted yellow along the edges. The scales along back, neck, head, and its sleek tail are all a deep red, the tail ending in a pair of hook-like claws. The dragon's body is slender and almost serpentine as it glides tilted to one side, belly nearly down on the rock of the mountainside as a pair of wings as far across as I am tall hold it in the air. It trumpets yet again, but this time there are words in our own tongue mixed in.
"Children of Jabun!" The dragon cries, its voice low and rough like grinding stones, a deep sound born of its chest and rumbling up through an elongated throat. "Blessed of Nayru!" Pushing away from the mountainside, the dragon vanishes once more around the peaks, descending all the while since it appeared, yet still circling the island with surprising speed. I feel my hair and skirts blow to one side as it reappears, wings giving a low, powerful beat as it turns slightly, low enough now to fly directly over our heads seemingly without noticing us.
The dragon then flies a wide birth and takes itself out over the water, its lithe body twisting in on itself as if it were trying to catch its own tail as it flies in a tight circle around itself. Water splashes up from the waves just inches below the dragon's curled body, tiny droplets landing upon it's red scales causing them to shimmer in the sunlight before it uncurls and glides smoothly towards the shore, vanishing half from sight behind the rise which separates our two pieces of beach.
I nearly take a step towards the division to climb back up to where Link and I were hidden before, but I pause as I feel his hand quickly grasp my wrist. Looking back at him in surprise, I instantly notice a strained look in his eyes, his face pulled and looking as though the colour were draining from his cheeks.
I open my mouth to speak his name, wanting to ask what's wrong, but as I do so I suddenly can't find the breath. Elbows, knees, and heart, I feel a sudden and very sharp pain pierce all named areas, taking a gentle gasp as our world's colours seem to distort and bleed into one another. I couldn't feel them, the threads knotting themselves around me, but now those invisible strands are made painfully clear to me.
Now I do not hang like a puppet though, the Hands not having aimed for that just yet. Instead, I feel the strings connected to me spinning round and round my form, like a spider's web quickly pinning my arms to my sides and knees together. I can see Link before me still, but he merely seems to hang limp in the air; the threads held lax for the puppet he is and which I shall soon become like. That single thread weaving its way through my heart, I can feel it taking root like a vile weed, latching itself to me in an almost biting manner.
The colours around me simply continue to bleed, swirling together in a chaotic blur. Sadness fills me, oddly enough it's similar to last night; when Link and I flew from the castle with the light of the Gods. I'm leaving something precious behind, and, it's something I don't think I shall ever be able to take back…
"A willful little wretch, aren't you?" A voice sounds more in my mind than to my ears, my eyes unable to focus as I allow them to drift open and closed almost drunkenly. I can feel no ground beneath me, hear now waves behind me. The warm sun I'm starved for has left to leave my skin chill once again. I could die on the inside to hear that velvety smooth voice wrapping itself around my mind; that thread of ice knotting ever more within my heart, thick fingers like those of sapling trees bent round me tightly like the threads binding my limbs. Threads which bite into me, both body and mind, which feed off of powers I cannot tap nor fight, becoming heavy ropes binding me to this new fate.
"Home sweet home, isn't it, Princess?"
'Nayru has not forgotten thee, Jabu-Jabu has not forsaken thee! But look now into the waters which now make graves of the peoples both of valleys and rivers! This stagnant death, this bloodied water, it is with these sacrifices with which the future shall be secured! Mourn no more!
As you learned the rivers and the lakes, learn the ocean and its islands! Ride upon Farore's Winds to learn Nayru's Waters, and carry Din's fire forth to the hearts of all those who now reside upon island peaks! Fly! With Din's gift and Nayru's consent; and in the name of your fallen Princess I bid the fly! Fly, Zora! Fly… Rito!'
GAME!
Maybe it means he wins after all, Master Hand I mean. I lift my sword up high above my head as Falcon merely crosses his arms in distaste, his charge abandoned as Zelda crouches down to help Samus back up onto the platform from where she was clinging just barely to the edge of the stadium.
The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening as she finishes her task and comes to stand next to me, gloved hands coming up in front of her with a slight space between her palms; a crackling flame appearing as I ram my sword back down into it's casing on my back. Barely a moment later, the four of us all experience the nauseating feel of the warps, Zelda vanishes from my side, and Falcon and I step into the locker room.
"I still don't understand you." Falcon murmurs after a few moments of silence, I stand at my locker and open it gingerly, undoing the straps across my shoulder and letting my shield and sword drop into the storage box. I unclasp the weights from around my wrists yet keep my gloves on after pulling my green tunic from my head. It's nearly soaked from fountain water as is my cap and boots. I take the cap off as well, but leave my boots on because they're too much of a pain. Closing the locker, I turn to see the Captain combing his hair back with a plastic comb from his own locker, his red and gold helmet resting on the shelf within the unit itself.
"I don't quiet understand it either." I reply, "It was an odd feeling while we were there though. I don't know if I could explain it really."
"Try." Is the curt reply I receive, "All that work, and you both just roll over and start doing what that crazy pair want!" This is slowly turning into a conversation we've both had before already. I've learned since Zelda and I returned to the mansion what happened to bring her to the castle in the first place, and upon our actual arrival back within the Hand's Territory, we both learned that before finding us, the hands found the others in Samus's ship, and promptly returned them here as well.
"I've already tried, but I don't think anyone really understood." I answer after Falcon goes back to grooming himself in the small mirror. "It's just that, when we washed up on shore, it was like, we didn't have a place anymore. The knights didn't need to be knight's anymore, the people simply need to live on their own now, I think both of us wanted to be able to help, but really, we would probably only feel like burdens to them." I stop talking as I can't feel my words going anywhere substantial.
"You're both just bowing down to him; fighting in the tournaments just lets them both get away with everything they've done." Falcon's words are bitter, and honestly, I share those feelings with him. However, I just don't see the point in arguing. I'm not hopeless about it, no; I feel actually quiet happy about myself and how things are now. I feel sadness though, being parted from my world in a way more complete than ever. But, I think maybe it's more a state of nostalgia than anything.
Zelda and I were given our lives to live out from here on as we see fit or are able to manage. I think that this was mainly just supposed to relieve us of our duties of bearing the Triforce's pieces, but at the same time… I know she loves and cries for the people of Hyrule, both the dead and the survivors. They are the people she should have grown to be queen of, but, since we returned here, it's as though being relieved of one set of duties took the rest away as well.
It's not Sir Link, Farore's Chosen, Hero of Time, and Holder of the Triforce of Courage, anymore. It's just. Link.
And it isn't Her Royal Magesty the Princess Zelda of Hyrule, Nayru's Chosen, Dream Watcher and Holder of the Triforce of Wisdom, it's merely Zelda…
There are no more titles attached to us. I feel the threads around my heart, binding me to this strange, foreign place, but that isn't a title. It isn't an obligation. Do I like to fight? Yes, I do. I enjoy tournaments; I have good friends here and enjoy their company.
"Falcon," I say, speaking before the captain can as I see his mouth opening with a retort. I give a slight chuckle and scratch the back of my head slightly with a sheepish smile. "I'm happy that you're concerned, I really am, but, what happened, would have happened even if I'd never come to the mansion at all. Master Hand merely fed the flames, so, really, it's alright." His mouth closes and his lips twist into a sour line by the time I finish speaking, but he says nothing else. Merely breathing a hefty sigh and tossing the comb down into his locker with a flick. It takes only a moment or two of general silence as the racer closes the door to his locker and walks past me with his helmet tucked under one arm before he speaks again.
"C'mon, Fairy-Boy, I'll fix you a nice drink in the lounge. You've been talking all poetic-y since you guys got back. Seriously, it's bad enough hearing that junk from Marth and Roy, I don't need you blathering Shakespeare too." I give a more open chuckle at the jest, holding my tunic and cap across one arm as I walk after him with a smile.
In the end, yes, maybe Master Hand has won this one; maybe Zelda and I are simply giving up. But, our lives; are ours…
They're ours…
Two small children stand atop a tower of blackened stone, water pouring down in mighty pillars from mere feet above their small heads. A boy in green, a cap the colour of spring leaves hugging his brow as a shock of gold blond hair pokes out from beneath it, wielding a sword once held by a man instead. A tunic of emerald hue hangs down nearly to his knees in the style of an ancient hero. At his side, a girl of similar age, a gown she has never before known in her life hangs down to the black stone at her feet, shades of pale rose and gentle cream, white gloves up to her elbows, a crown of gold and jewels, finery she has never beheld before resting atop her brow. Both are bloodied, weary, confused, and perhaps even saddened.
A man stands before them, clothed in a fine red coat, one which reaches down nearly to the ground as a long, regal robe. A crown of bright gold, lacking ornament but speaking of power and respect resting atop his graying hair, light can nearly be seen passing through his eyes even as he no longer faces it; it, the glowing resonance of the Triforce.
The waters around them rise, collapsing a grand shield which held a castle suspended and untouched by time. A great crash echoes throughout the oceans as mighty white pillars crumble and fall, towers collapsing from sudden weight and pressure upon their blue shingled tops. A herald of gold glimmers once before the darkness of the water steals away its shine, sealing the final fate of a forgotten land.
The two children fight the pull of the waves, the waters winning them over and dragging their small forms up towards the surface; towards the sun and the light. They fight it though, the sword to heavy now with the water surrounding him falls from the young boy's grasp, landing with a dull echo against black stone as the man in red remains unmoving, as if stone like the platform upon which he stands.
His hand rises, as if to grasp the wanting fingers of the boy hero as his young eyes show deep sadness and confusion, the former reflected in those of his mentor. This man he hardly knows yet for whom his heart cries out in pity for the loneliness one ancient heart has burdened, as crushing as the waters he has held back for so many centuries.
The waters close in, two small figures vanishing into the wavering light of their world above; their ocean home, their way of life salvaged from the brink of destruction from a malicious power. The forgotten world of their ancestor's lies buried deep within the sea, drowned by time's waters, tears shed by the gods themselves.
'My dearest child, Zelda… Find peace. For my own heart shall only rest when I know that those of each and every one of my now lost people, my own blessed daughter first among those names, has found peace with themselves, and their memories and lives. Our final hours of strife have marked the end of a mighty era, but look now, where my eyes cannot, and see the new age which has dawned in the wake of our pain. My dear, sweet, devoted child, find rest, find peace, and at last, let our weary kingdom die…'
The black tower crumbles, obsidian stones grinding against other weights as dark as they, coming loose as they grind, churn, and break. The tower tips, sags, it splits, and in a final roar, it crumbles.
A final sparkle, just before the endless night overcomes all below the depths of a calm, and clear blue sea, of light so faint but is still unmistakably that of gold, like a flash it fires across all directions. Deep, deep, down beneath the sea, in regions untouched by preserving, freezing magics, grounds long since freed of bloodied memories, churned by currents into soft sea beds, rolling beds of silt still bear the memory of sand. Shadows of rolling fields, of single, strong-rooted trees sitting lazily atop cresting rises. A mighty forest stands silently, seen for scarcely a moment, dessert sands now stone and murk blister about in raging storms long past. Cool mountain streams and wide, fast flowing rivers nothing but ugly scars across the rolling sea-beds.
Panes of glass, coloured and parted in patterns of story stand in frames plastered with grime, shine clearly and full of vibrant life. A town-square fills with hawker's cries for but the barest glimmer.
At last though, all is quiet. The currents ebb and flow, the storms come and pass. Memory fades into legend. Legend into Myth. And finally, Myth becomes nothing more than words upon the wind's breath.
The End of an Era, is the Dawning of a New Age…
The End
-Takes a bow- I humbly thank each and every one of my most patient reviewers. Even if this final and long over due chapter receives no attention, I still am grateful for the fans who did in fact stick with it long enough to enjoy at least most of this story.
