Well, this is it, folks, the final chapter of my very first novel. This is going to be a long one, but we're in this together. (And what a fitting title…)

Chapter 67: The Completion of the Book

The next morning, Gol knew what he had to do. He just wasn't sure yet how to make that happen. The hardest part of all, however, was going to be actually conjuring up the willpower to do it once he got all the details sorted out. Now that would take some doing.

He cleaned off the blood from his injured arm, dark and dried from having left it there all night, and when he went out into the living room, he found Kassra sitting there in her usual spot (she really could sit wherever she wanted; it was her house, after all), working on carving out the wings of some kind of large bird that resembled a flut-flut, but with sharper features. Her face was still bruised, but there was no indication she was aware of this fact as she grinned up at him with a smile as bright as always.

"That looks like a flut-flut," he said as he joined her, he, too, sitting down in the same seat he always seemed to find himself in. "Some kind of bird from the Wasteland or one of your own creations?"

"No, it's a flut-flut." She grinned wider. "It's just a killer flut-flut."

"It doesn't seem like you to create anything 'killer'."

"Well, it's not actually killing anything. It just has a pointy beak and pointy toenails."

"I see."

Silence returned as she went back to work, and he watched as she shoved the knife under the incomplete wing and began to wiggle it about until she pried loose the entire hunk of wood beneath it. "There, now it's free to fly." She held it up, presenting him with a crude, but almost complete, bird. "I love doing birds because I get to try and add feathers. I'm not very good at it still, but I'm working on it."

"I'm sure you do fine," he said, and she shot him a toothy grin, looking like quite the scoundrel with her black eye, before returning her attention to the bird, her knife work becoming more refined as she cut off any rough bits, its shape beginning to smooth out. His eyes watched her fingers work and the control she kept over her movements, and he thought that today felt much too ordinary. And maybe that was for the best. But, that also didn't mean he wanted this day to end up feeling empty, either.

"About yesterday," he began, and she looked up, her hand stilled, "are you feeling any better?"

"I felt better yesterday."

"But, do the…bruises hurt?"

"Not really." She tilted her head. "Well, only a little. But, I didn't even think about it until you brought it up. And are you feeling any better?"

"I feel just fine."

"Good." She smiled at him once more before returning to the process of smoothing out her figurine, the head becoming more and more round, and as he watched her, wood shavings piling on her lap, she started to hum a song under her breath. He couldn't allow today to be empty. It was too quiet, too uneventful.

"Kassra."

She looked up again, her tune cutting off mid-note. "Yeah?"

"You really haven't minded me being here?"

"Of course, not. You're good company, even if you don't seem to believe it."

"Are you sure you don't just have low standards?"

"So sure." She set the carving down on her lap and brushed the shavings to the floor with one hand, knife still held in the other. "Why do you ask those kinds of questions, though? You have to know by now that I like having you here."

"That may be so, but that doesn't mean I understand it. And…I haven't minded being here, either. It's been nice, actually."

"I'm glad." She leaned forward to set the knife on the table, then picked up the bird in both hands and held it up to her face, inspecting its surface with one eye squinted. "Sometimes it seems like you're impossible to please, y'know. Like you have very high standards. But, it seems to me like you have higher standards for yourself than anything, and I think that's what keeps you from allowing yourself to be happy." She lowered the bird back down. "Does that make any sense?"

"It might. And…" He drummed the fingers of his good hand on the armrest. "What do you plan to do…with your future?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Once your book's all done, what do you plan to do?"

His eyes left her to scan the figurines on the mantelpiece, pointing out in his head which ones she had made since he had gotten here. The crab was definitely new, and he was quite certain there were several more cats in various poses, as well.

"Once my book's done…I don't know if it matters. The only thing I can really be certain of is…I guess at my age, I really should know by now that there is more to life than work. I've spent my entire life working, and sometimes, I wonder if I've wasted it."

He could have spent more of his life actually enjoying it, rather than getting through each day the same as the one before. He could've spent more time enjoying the company of others and his time with Maia, and he could've spent more time listening to her singing instead of just tuning it out so he could focus on the next breakthrough in his research.

There was so much he could've done differently, if he could go back, but he didn't exactly want to relive all those years again, either. Frankly, he was tired. And he wasn't so sure he wanted to go forward in time anymore, either, even when he used to wish away each day, yearning for a future where he knew all there was to know about Dark Eco. He had longed for the day where he would finally be respected as the Sage he was, praised as the only man brave enough to stand by his convictions and uncover the secrets of this infinitely mysterious substance. And for a time, he dreamt of the day his sister and he would finally take the world for themselves, when they would transform the entire planet with Dark Eco and force people to worship them as self-made gods. He had hoped for many things in his life, certain that the future would bring him the fulfillment he had always been longing for, but he couldn't recall ever really being fully satisfied with what he had in the present. Until now.

Right now, he didn't look forward to the future, and not just because he had no future to look forward to, and the past was over and done with, and he wished only for it to remain that way. All he had left was the present, and he hoped to make the most of what was left of that, even if it wasn't much, but that only made it all the more vital to savor.

"Is it time for lunch yet?"

She blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Really? The King of Anorexia wants lunch?"

"It's really not kind to make fun of someone's weight. You're on the thin side yourself."

Her mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. "Oh, now you've crossed the line, mister. I'm going to make you lunch, and I'm going to force you to eat every bit of it until you become chunky."

"At least I won't be thin anymore."

She stuck out her tongue and set her bird carving down beside her on her chair before rising to her feet. "So…"

"Soup's all I'm in the mood for right now, if you have it."

"Sure thing." She marched over to the kitchen, spinning halfway on her heel to look back. "Are you getting any more used to my cooking yet?"

"I resigned myself to such a fate as your cooking long ago."

"Hey…"

He couldn't help but grin. Today would be ordinary, and such a thing was sometimes far more fulfilling than work.

The day was indeed quite ordinary, and while they spent most of their time with lunch and dinner and talking, none of the day was wasted on the book. As much as he had wanted all his life to author a book on Dark Eco, to share with the world all the knowledge he had obtained on the subject, such a thing no longer really mattered at this point. Not when he wouldn't finish it anyway and when he now had more important things to focus on. They had completed the majority of it, at least, and all that could really be added now was his most recent findings, which were already compiled in notes he had left behind at the citadel, along with the warning Kassra had wanted him to add. And he would add it. There was still time.

Their evening was spent with his attention split between their current conversation and with tracing every detail of her house, every figurine on the mantelpiece, every leaf and tendril of the various plants scattered about, even the furniture, but most of all, he watched her face, studied it, so he would never forget it, so he would never forget the honey-colored hair and the simple clothes and the freckles on one cheek. And as he listened to her voice, he memorized its every nuance and the way she sounded when she would hum tunes that were usually a bit on the flat side. He would never forget, even if there wasn't much time left for him to do so anyway. Nevertheless, he swore he would never allow himself to forget anything about her. Not one thing.

And when it was time to go to bed, he hugged her, not wanting to let go, and she might've been fine with that, but he had to release her. She bid him good night, he doing the same in return, and it was a relief when she turned away, but only because he no longer had to control the expression on his face, and he returned to his room, wiping a few stray tears away. He sat on his bed, hunched over with his face in his hand, and he coughed and hacked a few times, though he tried to refrain from making any more noise than absolutely necessary because, for what he was to do next, he needed her asleep.

Once some time had gone by, and he was sure she must be sleeping by now, he got for himself a spare sheet of paper to write a short, but no less important, note, but it was not for her. When it was done, a spasm having already formed in the muscles of his bad hand that he hoped would recede later, he folded the note into thirds and stood, taking notice as he did so of the items Kassra had given to him, her depictions of Maia and himself, and the pearl. She could keep them. She would get enjoyment from them far longer still than he.

He left his room to gather up the pages of his book, with nothing but the light from his room to go by, and then he returned to turn off his lamp, as well. He stood still for just a few minutes longer, for even though he could see no more than what the moonlight touched as it came through the windows, he could still sense this room and the memories of all the things he had experienced here over these pasts many months, the good and the bad, though right now, the good was far stronger. And he noticed that even the crickets were quiet tonight, as if deciding to give him some peace when he needed it most.

He released a sigh, which only induced a cough that he attempted to stifle in the back of his hand. It was time to go.

Gol went outside and closed the door behind him with the least perceptible click he could manage, his hand remaining on the doorknob as he looked about him. He had not been outside in so long. Not except to walk with the woman on their way from the prison to her house, and they had been surrounded by guards then. While surely everyone, if only indirectly, knew who he was, as they must be aware that someone was behind their past suffering, only a select few knew that he still lived, and it was also those few that knew his face. It would be best if this night went without incident, but in his final plan, he would not allow himself to fail. This mattered more than anything else he had ever done prior. He had experienced many failures in the past, but this would not be one of them.

He strode forward, the darkness keeping his features out of sight, and though he tried to stay in the shadows, he didn't go out of his way to do so, as that would only serve to make him look more suspicious to the few still out at this hour, most of which marched about, as if still on patrol, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were, even though the war was long over. He could imagine the uneasiness the war had caused would likely last for quite some time, even this long perhaps. He didn't see the Wastelanders as being the type to let their guard down twice.

And as he walked, taking note of how cool the air felt on his face and how cold and rough the sand did on his feet, he moved with the casual air of someone just out for a simple walk, and he was, really (until he could figure out just how in the world he was going to get to where he needed, of course), and he savored the peace of what was going on around him. Life, simple life.

Most of the residents of this place were asleep, but it was simple, peaceful living going on behind those walls and through those windows. People with families and hopes and bright, new days ahead of them, and they probably didn't even appreciate it. And he had been the same way once. He, too, took for granted such simple things as another morning, followed eventually by another quiet night blanketed in the beauty of stars that hung above even now, so wondrous to behold, so unfathomable in their mystery, and most were not even awake to enjoy them.

But, he was. He was out here right now enjoying the stars, thousands of them, twinkling amidst the black satin of a sky that would be lit blue again in the morning by a sun he would not be around to see. He had already seen his last sun, and this was his last night, and somehow he loved it more than any other day that had come prior, back when his days seemed limitless, and when each one seemed to bring nothing more than something he had already seen countless times before. He had seen this sight plenty of times before, as well, but the only difference was there weren't more to come, and that was the biggest difference of all.

But, now wasn't the time for staring at stars. Right now, he really needed to figure out some details that had thus far eluded him. While he had already decided on what to do, it was the how that he still didn't have quite pinned down yet. He certainly couldn't walk to his next destination, but he couldn't teleport, either. Not when the Dark Eco that had allowed him to do such things had been stripped from his veins long ago. And as for flying, well, he didn't know if he had that ability left in him, either, nor the strength, nor the time for such a method of travel. What, then, was he to do? Perhaps he hadn't planned out everything as well as he could have, after all.

And then his wandering came to a halt when he spotted an object in the distance, large and round and…familiar. He had seen it before, even if this was the first time he had ever actually wandered Spargus' streets. His pace picked up again as he made his way towards it, and he tucked his notes under his bad arm, freeing his good hand up so that he could set it upon the object's cold surface.

What remained of his breath caught in his throat. It was the bomb. Crumpled and pathetic it was now after the boy had done what he had to it, but that's exactly what it was. He removed his hand, rubbing his fingers together as if to rid them of some taint. This was it, the physical evidence of his crimes. Proof that he really had tried to kill the population of an entire city, including Kassra, and had tried to flood it with Dark Eco. He really had tried to accomplish such an atrocity. He really was the monster people believed him to be.

How would he have ever lived with himself if he had succeeded? If he had…murdered that dear woman? How could he have even gone so far in such a plan to begin with? Frankly, he had no idea how he had done a lot of the things that he had. But, he was not that person anymore. He wished he never had been.

He felt a pinprick in his mind, the call of something he had once known so well, and he began to circle the bomb, scanning its surface and the area around it for the source of that familiar feeling. There was still some Dark Eco here; he could sense it, with the smallest part of himself left that still had the substance in it. It had been a part of him for so long, had once been absorbed into every cell of his body, and it seemed that no amount of Light Eco could ever cleanse him of every drop of Dark Eco that had once tainted it.

Its call grew louder, until it ceased altogether when he stopped in front of one tank of Dark Eco gas on the bomb's surface that, unlike the rest, had yet to rupture. Had no one known this was here the entire time? The substance they hated so, present in their city like this, without their knowledge. It was as if it had been waiting here for him, for the moment he would need its power again, like it knew all along that he would return to it one day. But, this wasn't the same thing. This didn't mean he was giving in to its influence again. He just had some things that needed to get done, and Dark Eco was the only thing that could help him do it.

Gol felt along the tank's surface until he found the intake valve. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. Dark Eco gas was more potent, more concentrated, than its liquid form, but it was not enough to corrupt him again. Maybe kill him, as that's what his purpose was for creating it, to kill, but it wouldn't corrupt him. He didn't think it would. He just hoped it would be enough to allow him to finish what he needed.

He gripped the valve and attempted to twist it open, but it squealed in protest, many months of sand and grit having worked its way in to make his work harder. He looked around to make sure no one had heard, and when he confirmed that no one was looking in his direction, he gave it one final jerk, and the valve relented. He hesitated. This would have to work, or else his plan had failed before it had even gotten started.

Taking half a deep breath, he moved in close and, with a pounding heart, opened the valve, releasing the substance and inhaling it against his better judgment before it could escape, and then he wobbled before collapsing in a heap on the ground. His lungs burned, they burned like someone had lit them ablaze, and he hacked and gasped for air, his head swimming. Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe he had been without Dark Eco too long for it to ever accept him again. And maybe the Dark Eco gas was much too poisonous. That's why he had attached it to the bomb in the first place, hadn't he?

But, as Gol wheezed into the sand, hand gripping his chest, he could feel an old sensation coming back to him, an old power, though greatly weakened, and it sent a buzz through his veins that made him feel so alive, not unlike the effect of adrenaline when one was being chased by a Lurker. Eventually, his coughing subsided, and he lifted his head, finding his papers scattered about in a mess beside him. No, the gas hadn't killed him, after all, and while he didn't believe its effects would last, it would have to be enough. He would make it be enough.

The former Sage picked up his papers and rose, shaky, to his feet. And then, with no more thought than it took him to do anything else he had done countless times prior, he wrapped himself in Dark Eco and was gone.

Gol materialized in the darkened streets of Haven City, stepping backwards once he had arrived so that he could hide amongst the shadows granted him by the walkways above, where the light from the streetlamps and the brightly colored signs didn't reach. As expected, this was a much busier place than Spargus, and many people still wandered about, no doubt returning home from a late day of work or, even more unfortunate, heading to work for a late shift. There were more soldiers here, as well, soldiers in blue armor, probably out more for the need to protect the civilians from each other than from anything else. He chuckled to himself. Those soldiers had once felt the need to protect these people from him, hadn't they, but no longer. He was no longer a danger to anyone. But, that didn't mean he couldn't rekindle some of that old fear once more. For a good cause, of course.

He tucked his notes into his coat as he watched people pass by that didn't so much as glance in his direction, so busy were they living their own, oblivious lives, their main concern simply to get to where they needed to go. Once again, he had to admit that he didn't have the clearest plan, but like last time, he would just have to make due with what was available to him. And so he waited, the streets clearing out as the hour grew later than ever, and then he saw his chance when he found an opening with no guards around, just one lone man, walking along with a suitcase in hand. Perfect.

With no desire to miss such an opportunity, Gol lunged forward and grabbed the man with strength brought about by pure urgency and the adrenaline-like effect of Dark Eco, pulling him into the shadows and cornering him between the wall and a nearby ramp. The former Sage drew in close, moving towards his victim with purpose, and the man attempted to protect himself with his suitcase, which Gol simply pulled from his grasp and tossed aside. For once, fortune was smiling upon him, that he could so easily find someone even a sickly, old man such as himself could overpower.

"Don't rob me!" the man said as he tried to shield himself from whatever he thought was coming with quivering arms. "All I have is a receipt and a few sticks of gum! I swear!"

Goll rolled his eyes. "Do you know where…Jak lives?"

The man lowered his arms just the slightest amount to peek over them, only his eyes visible. "Jak who?"

"I don't know. The one who saved all your sorry hides from the near destruction of Spargus. You do remember that, don't you? It's not often one comes so close to their absolute annihilation." He moved in closer as his voice dropped to a growl. "Not that it couldn't happen again… So if you don't know where he is, then tell me who does, so I can save myself the trouble of wasting anymore time with you." For once, his raspy voice was coming in quite handy.

"I-I already told you, I don't know! I-I…just…please spare me!" Even in this dim lighting, the man looked ready to sob. He certainly sounded like he was.

Gol sighed as he reached into his coat to pull the folded letter out from his pocket, his victim flinching in response. "Take this note to him. I don't care who you have to ask to find him, just make sure that he gets it."

He held the note out, shaking it when the man didn't grab it, and his victim reached forward and snatched the paper away before taking his eyes off of Gol for the first time since their encounter began to stare down at it. Maybe he hadn't gotten the urgency of the matter across quite as clearly as he had hoped. That was an easy fix, though.

The former Sage lunged forward and grabbed the man by the throat, his victim going stiff and his eyes wide. "And when I say take it to him, I mean now. Not in an hour. Not in twenty minutes. Now. Do I make myself clear?"

The man nodded.

Gol released him and stepped back. "Good. And see that you do, or else…" a few sparks arced between the fingers of his good hand, and he chuckled, though more at how absurd he surely must look right now than at his upcoming threat, "or else…you don't want to know what I'll do."

The man took off running, and the former Sage grinned as he watched him retreat, almost bumping into an approaching guard before he was out of sight. He just hoped he could actually rely on this fool to do what he needed, but the extra fear he had induced in his delivery boy would no doubt speed the recipient of the note's response, at least. As long as he received it, that is. Power did indeed have its benefits, even when the one you were flaunting it to didn't realize it was fake.

Gol's smile disappeared at the realization that he just had one last place to go. This was it. He only had a few more things he needed to do. And then all that would be left would be to wait.

Gol's last destination was the citadel, and as he emerged from a cloud of Dark Eco in the room at the bottom of the spiral staircase, a wave of memories washed over him. It was silent here, empty, dead, none of his servants currently in sight, and he was quite certain at this point that none remained. It was dark, as well, lit only by moonlight, all the torches having burned out long ago with no one around to maintain them, which was rather fitting, really, but it didn't matter because he didn't have to see this place to feel all the memories that had happened here. This is where he was when Maia first brought him down here, to show him the library and his lab, among other things. It was also in this room where he had found Kassra, who had braved a sandstorm to come see him and who had come bearing the golden pearl that she said reminded her of him, even though it made him think far more of her than it did of himself.

And that wasn't even the half of it, for there were so many more rooms, with so many more memories to hold. Of arguments and recollections of the past, of victory and failure, and so much work he grew tired just thinking about it. This place had been his home for over a year, before he had found a new one in Spargus, and he supposed he was lucky to have found not one, but two homes, each of which he had shared with different people he was also just as lucky to know. His sister would always be the most dear to him, but in such a short time, the woman had come closer than he had ever expected possible. He just hoped she knew how close that was. And if she didn't, perhaps he could still make sure that she did.

And while this place was also where so many bad memories had taken place, some truly horrid ones, with one in particular that stood out above all others, they didn't cause him the same grief as they once had, for the closer he drew to the end, the less such things mattered anymore. It was the good things in life that mattered, not the bad, because the bad become obsolete once it was over. But, not the pleasant memories. Those were the ones that were hard to come by and so became so much more valuable because of it.

Gol went about finding matches, and he lit the torches and some of the candles still strewn about, to bring light to this tired, old place once again, so he could see it better and make the memories that much more vivid. He revisited the library and the lab, stopping for a time longer in Maia's old room, where he found the mirror and the table to be covered in dust and sand. He brushed these off, revealing a haggard, old man in the mirror that he could hardly believe was him. He had seen himself in the bathroom mirror in Kassra's house plenty of times, but rarely did he really look at himself. He looked infinitely old, old and tired, and he was surprised he was still holding onto life based on his appearance. He was the picture of death, a skeleton with the skin still on, and he wondered if the woman had obsessed over mealtime for her own sake or for his. She certainly did appear to enjoy eating, but then again, he also couldn't count the sheer number of pet names she had invented for him that related to his weight, or his ridiculous lack thereof.

He patted at the pillows and the bedspread on his sister's old bed, as well, coughing from the dust he stirred up in the process, before returning to his old room. Here, he found the plants Kassra had used to decorate to be long dead, though they retained their form, now reduced to a dry, withered palm with crumbling, brown leaves, and a shrunken lump of spikes where once stood a barrel cactus. It was a pitiful sight, but he never was one for plants, nor did he ever have the knack for caring for them, as the yellowing plant in Kassra's kitchen had proven. And that was likely the only time in his life he had ever even attempted to take care of a plant in the first place.

He pulled out the dresser drawer where he kept all of his old notes, still right where he had left them. If he couldn't finish his book the proper way, he could at least now come close. He took out these notes, already a hefty stack, before retrieving the rest of his papers from his coat and combining them to form quite a substantial chunk of manuscript. He nodded. Well, maybe it was lacking in refinement, but at least the length was satisfactory.

His next stop was the library, and he went through the shelves where all the books that were sorely lacking in pages were kept, pulling out one after another and finding them with either a cover he disliked, no back, or lacking in the size he was looking for. Finally, he found a simple blue binding with a spine of a decent width and with a title that had nothing to do with Dark Eco, but at least he could live with it. "A History of the Wasteland". Fine, good, let's go with it.

He proceeded to rip out the remaining pages that had managed to cling to the binding even after the storm of his past rage, though they were not quite as loose as he was expecting. Once it was empty of paper, with no right to even be called a book anymore, he set the stack of pages comprising his manuscript within and closed it. There, now it almost looked like a proper book. Kind of. Not at all, really.

Shrugging, he picked up his mutant-book, holding it level so as to prevent any of the pages from flying loose and becoming mixed in with the papers now strewn about the floor, remnants of the book he had just butchered (he really didn't have the patience or, most importantly, the time, to sort out that mess), and he returned to his lab, several candles with wicks aflame already there waiting for him.

He sat down, and as he laid his book on the table, he took notice of a few pages lying about that he didn't quite remember, and he put on his glasses and picked them up to peruse their contents. They were the blueprints for the bomb. And the formula for creating Dark Eco gas. He stared at these pages, showcasing a lapse in his original goal of gathering knowledge for the good of mankind, a further reminder, as if he really needed one, of his attempts to do quite the opposite.

Setting all the pages down but one, he crumpled it up in his fist and held up one corner to the candle nearby, the flames licking at it until the page caught fire, and he watched as it began to be consumed before tossing it away to burn to ash on the stone floor. And he did the same to the next one and the next, until all of the offending pages were smoldering balls. Sparing them one final glance, he reached across the table to where the blank pages were piled from last he was here and pulled one over. He grabbed his pen, and though his hand already ached, it would just have to deal with. He didn't have too much writing left to do anyway.

He began his promised final page, explaining to any possible readers, if there would ever be any, why this book was unfinished. He warned that any who misused Dark Eco would become corrupted, no matter how immune they believed themselves to be to its influence. He had thought himself above its corrupting powers, as well, but he couldn't have been more wrong. He had been a fool to believe he wouldn't suffer the same fate as those before him, and that, in essence, was the very reason why this book would never be completed. Dark Eco was a wondrous substance, it truly was, but don't be a fool, he wrote. Not only did Dark Eco change who he was, but it also made him ill, so ill, in fact, that he already knew he would be gone before he had any hope of finishing his work. Any who read this should learn from his example and exercise utmost caution when studying Dark Eco, or else they could make no excuses if it poisoned them next.

He set the completed page at the end of his ramshackle book before retrieving another blank page to write one, final note, this one taking him longer, however, as this one was, quite possibly, the most important thing he had ever written in his entire, long life. And once that task was done, all that was left was to wait and see if the results of his endeavors in Haven City had paid off, and he could only assume that they had when, at long last, the sound of footsteps greeted him, and he set his pen down as his gaze rose to land on his newest and final visitor.

"How nice of you to visit. Jak, was it?"

The boy in question stood in the doorway, gun held in his hands, looking none too pleased, though, based on the contents of the delivered message, it was no surprise.

"What's going on, Gol?" Jak stepped forward. "I got your note saying you had escaped, that you—"

Gol chuckled. "I knew that would hurry you along." He took off his glasses and set them down alongside his pen. "Where is your friend? It's not often I see the two of you apart."

"What did you want me here for? What are you up to?"

The former Sage leaned back in his seat. "I'll get to that. But first, can't we just have a little chat? We haven't spoken in so long. I remember last time we saw each other, we each had some rather…harsh words for the other." He coughed into his fist and wiped the resulting blood onto his coat without a second thought. "I heard you restored Haven City, so I suppose I should commend you. You've managed to undo everything I worked so hard for. Bravo."

"Cut the crap and tell me what you want already!" Jak said as the grip on his weapon tightened.

Gol let out a wheezing sigh. "There is no need to fret. I assure you that my intentions are quite harmless. And I know it must seem rather impolite for me to ask this of you after all the trouble I've caused, but you and your friends have put my dear sister and I through quite a bit of grief, as well, so I suppose it might not be entirely out of line. The reason I asked you to come here is because I have a few small favors to ask of you."

The boy let his gun hang at his side. "That's what you brought me out here in the middle of the night for? And what makes you think I would want to do anything for you after what you've done?"

"I understand your reason for disliking me, I really do…if dislike is even a strong enough word for it, but I have changed, not that I expect you to believe my words so easily. All that matters is that you hear me out." He attempted to cross his arms. "I've been living with this girl named Kassra, I believe you two have met, ever since you imprisoned me in the palace. Minus the first month, of course. Don't worry, no hard feelings. Unfortunately, being the decrepit, old man that I am, I have become quite ill, and I have begun to worry over the thought of…dying in my sleep one night, leaving her to find out about my passing in the morning. It was painful enough finding my dear sister, and I can't do that to her. And so that is why I came here, to end my days far away from Spargus, to cause her as little grief as I possibly can. But," he lifted his hand to rest it upon the book and the note set atop, "if this is going to be my final night, I need someone to deliver this to her."

Jak gazed down at the book on the table, looking as if he expected some kind of trick, but saw no evidence of one. "And…why do you want me to do this?"

"You will know in a moment. So will you do it?"

"What is it?"

"A book. A book that I've written on Dark Eco. But—"

Jak put up a hand. "I'm not delivering something like—"

"You have met Kassra, haven't you?"

"What?"

"Have you met her?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then, what harm could possibly come of it? Surely you don't think she's going to make use of my work, do you?"

"Maybe not, but—"

"Just deliver it to her. Please. She helped me with it, and I want her to have it. I don't expect you to do it for me; I just ask that you do it for her sake. I don't want her to think I abandoned her. Because that is certainly not the case. I'm just doing what I feel is best. So, now that you can see my intentions are good, will you grant a dying Sage's wish?"

"I…" Jak sighed. "All right. I'll do it, but…what else did you bring me here for? I specifically remember you said 'favors'."

"Thank you. Just be careful, though, because the pages are loose. And most importantly, don't lose this note." He patted the page in question. "She lives in the house with the droopy plants outside."

"Okay, I got it. But, what else?"

"And I want you to visit her. I know you two don't live nearby, but I want you to visit her sometimes. Get to know her. I know she'll appreciate the company."

"Well, I don't know about that…."

"And one final thing."

Jak's eyebrows rose at the expected request. "And that is…"

"Kill me."

"What?"

He looked Jak dead in the eyes. "Kill me. In case you regretted letting me live, here's your chance. I know my time is coming, and I don't wish to wait around for it. So I ask that you finish me off and let me get it over with."

"I-I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because…because you're not even doing anything right now."

"Should I?"

"I'm…" Jak put a hand to his forehead. "I'm not going to just kill you! It just…it just wouldn't be—"

"If you won't do it, then I'm sure I can find another way." Gol rose to his feet. "I'm dying anyway, so what does it matter?"

"Why do you want to die so badly? That's the same thing you asked me before I captured you," Jak said.

The former Sage began to make his way around the table, hand sliding over its surface for support. Now that the effects of the Dark Eco gas had worn off, he had to admit that something didn't feel quite right. No, he wasn't feeling well at all.

"It's not that I want to die; I just know it's coming. And soon. I can feel it. So will you do this for me?"

"Gol, I can deliver that book for you, and…I guess I can try to find time to visit Kass if you really want me to, as well. As for killing you, what happened…it was over a long time ago, and I don't have any desire to get even anymore. So I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to wait out the rest of your life like anybody else."

"I see." He felt wobbly. "I suppose I may have asked for too much. I…." His legs grew weak, and he slumped to the floor, his hand still clutching the edge of the table.

Jak knelt down nearby as he dropped his gun beside him. "Are you…okay?"

Gol stared at the ground as his breath grew short. "I…I'm fine."

His hand slipped from the table to clutch at his chest. Yes, the Dark Eco gas had indeed worn out, if it hadn't actually hurried along his condition, and so had his time. It had been worn thin from far too many years spent on this planet, years he had been less than kind to his health, but he supposed he hadn't done so badly, really, considering he had managed to far outlast what could be considered a natural lifespan by any definition of the word. This day was long past due, but he supposed that was fine. It had to end someday.

"Gol…hey…do you need help?" Jak asked, but his voice was distant, as if it came from across a great hall.

And as Gol stared at the floor, he wondered if the encroaching blackness was from shadows or something else, but he was unable to answer the other man's question, as he was choking, but he didn't know on what, or maybe it was blood. All he knew for sure, all that mattered, was that he could no longer draw a breath, and his chest felt tight, and a heart that should be pounding began to slow, and then he felt like he was falling as everything went black. But, while his other senses had become extinguished, his sight gone and the tightness in his chest now relieved, his hearing was the one thing still left intact, and he only knew this because he could now hear a sound, a lovely sound, like leaves rustling in a breeze, brushing together in a whisper of voices. And then another sound drifted in to accompany the first, another voice he remembered all too well, a voice that was humming, and he could swear it sounded like his dear sister, and this time he didn't think it was his imagination.

Nighttime opened onto another bright, new day, yet another morning to bring fresh, new possibilities, as it rarely failed to do. Kassra stretched, reaching her arms far beyond her head and heaving a yawn before she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and sat upright. Someone was knocking on her front door, she thought, quite an odd thing this early in the morning. She rose to her feet and left the room, still dressed in loose-fitting night clothes.

As she made her way down the hallway, she noticed the door to Gol's room had been left open. Had the knocking woken him up, as well? She hadn't heard him answer the door. Oh, that's right. To most people, he wasn't even supposed to exist.

"You're sure up early," she said as she rounded the corner, but as she looked about, he didn't seem to be in here, either. "Where have you gone?" He really was getting too thin if she couldn't even find him in her little house.

Whoever was at the door knocked again, and she shrugged, though she couldn't help but admit that something about this morning didn't feel quite right. She ran a hand through loose hair, pulling it free again when it got tangled, and went to the door. When she opened it, she was greeted with a face she hadn't seen in a long time, but it wasn't the one she wanted right now.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" she said.

Jak stared at her, looking as if he had been caught unawares, even if he had been the one knocking on her door, and then his eyes dropped, and he held out something she hadn't even noticed he had until now. "This is for you…"

Lips just parted, she took it from him. "Uh…who's…who's it from?"

He couldn't keep his gaze on her for very long before he looked away again and scratched the back of his head. "I'm…just…just look at what I gave you, and you'll understand." He stepped back. "And maybe…maybe I'll be seeing you, or…" He raised a hand for what she thought might have been intended as the beginnings of an awkward wave before turning and walking off, and she leaned out the doorway to watch him go.

Directing a final blank stare at nothing in particular, she went back inside and closed the door, finally looking down at what Jak had given her. It was a book, even if it was a rather messy one, with a folded page on top, and when she opened it, she had to balance it carefully in her hands when loose pages threatened to slip out. This very messy book, if she wasn't mistaken, looked like it was the book, the one they had spent all that time working on together, but it looked even thicker than she remembered. She grabbed a clump and allowed them to flip through her fingertips, showing her pages and pages of dictated text and formulas she had written out for him.

Realizing just now that she was forgetting something, she closed the book and sat, and she began to unfold the page that had been left atop, finding that it was quite different from the others. It was not in her handwriting, and it wasn't about Dark Eco, either. And in the time that came after, she read it a thousand times over until she had memorized every word of it. And she never forgot.

My dearest Kassra,

As you have likely seen, my book is now as complete as it will ever be. I've added my old notes (don't worry, I left out the more questionable ones), and I wrote that warning like you wanted. I'm sure you'll find it sufficient, but read it if you like. It's at the end. Though, I think you'll agree that it's far better than the version you managed to come up with.

As for my reason for leaving, I want you to know that it was not a decision I took lightly. I was sick, even more so than you knew, and I worried throughout our last months together that my time was growing short. I couldn't stand the thought of passing away (or, as you put it, becoming "late") and having you find me. I know it's a morbid thought, but it was painful enough when I lost Maia, and I didn't wish the same for you, nor do I ever. Suffice it to say, I decided it would be best if I left on a happier note, no matter how much it grieved me to leave you, or how sick it made me to think of how my disappearance might make you feel. I only did what I did because the alternative was even worse.

While I would like to write so much more, I don't think my arm will allow it, so I'll finish up as best as I can. I hope I don't miss anything.

I want you to know that I greatly enjoyed our time together, no matter how much I grumbled. And your cooking was better than I let on. These last months, and the time that came before, meant more to me than you'll ever know.

-Gol Acheron, the only proper Dark Eco Sage

P.S. Please find a better binding for my book. I don't even care so much about the title as long as you don't make it goofy. I just can't stand the thought of my work looking so shabby.

I can't believe it. It's finally over. And now, I want to thank all of the wonderful people who read this story and who commented, favorited, followed, etc. This story has taken about a year and a half, I believe, and it's been a great 1.5 years, I must say. I want to specifically mention PurpleArmadillo, who did some lovely fan art for my story (you can find her art account on her profile), which was awesome, and JakCooperThePlumber asked to read this story on Youtube, which is pretty cool, considering I never expected to have an audio version of my story. All I can say in the end is wow, it's been a great ride, and I am so thankful to have gotten to share it with all of you. Thanks to you, my dear readers, this story became so much more than I ever imagined it would.

So thank you and please leave one final review and tell me your thoughts. I'd love to hear them.