I was your last resort. That is what you told me. That is what I believed.

I obeyed your orders. Every last one.

They thought I was human. They thought I opposed to your rule. They let me in to their stronghold.

You trusted me. I carried out your plan perfectly.

I was never once fooled by them. I hated them. I wanted to kill them. It would have been so easy. I could have ended it then for you. I could have taken to you that which the boy carried home to free the land. How I resented your orders.

But you had arranged it perfectly. I was your last resort, but I was also merely a pawn, in your continuous game for victory.

For evil, one hundred—one thousand—years is nothing. And you could have waited longer, I am sure. But you did not.

I was impatient. I was bitter. You let me lure them to Del. I did. You let me summon you when they came. That as well I did.

As your last resort, I ruined your plans. I told the boy. I do not know on what impulse—maybe it was to show him how he would fail, maybe to spoil the hero's plans.

But I failed. And I paid with my life. You did not. You can continue your endless game. The loss of one single insignificant pawn does not matter. I played an important part in one plan. One plan. I have played my part well, have I not?