Epilogue
The sky was a shade of red that could only be imagined by those who had seen Death. Not the small, individual passings of the victims of accident or illness or age. But the blood-soaked, multitudinous extermination of pestilence, of famine, of war. The kind that came at the End of Days, when the only victor from the battle being raged was DEATH himself.
And a battle was being fought, under that sanguine sky, and maybe the color was only a reflection of the blood soaking into the earth. Every being that still lived, in whatever form life took for it, was engaged in an unceasing conflict with a single goal: eradication of the other side.
Every being, that is, except for one. A lone figure stood beside an empty space where a rip in the world had once hung. He held a sword in his hand, as any who cared to survive in this place did. But he held himself apart from the fighting, still as a statue, almost as if waiting for something.
He wasn't waiting, though. He was watching. With a clarity of vision he had never possessed before.
After a moment, or a century, of watching, the figure finally raised his sword. Threw it to the side. And then turned and walked away.
He knew he wouldn't last long. But at least he could exercise his choice not to fight a battle he'd never believed in.
And a battle was being fought, under that sanguine sky, and maybe the color was only a reflection of the blood soaking into the earth. Every being that still lived, in whatever form life took for it, was engaged in an unceasing conflict with a single goal: eradication of the other side.
Every being, that is, except for one. A lone figure stood beside an empty space where a rip in the world had once hung. He held a sword in his hand, as any who cared to survive in this place did. But he held himself apart from the fighting, still as a statue, almost as if waiting for something.
He wasn't waiting, though. He was watching. With a clarity of vision he had never possessed before.
After a moment, or a century, of watching, the figure finally raised his sword. Threw it to the side. And then turned and walked away.
He knew he wouldn't last long. But at least he could exercise his choice not to fight a battle he'd never believed in.