The end of an eternity.

More time passed. None of the inhabitants of the cave paid much attention to the rising and setting of the sun, or the passing of seasons. There was only the battle. And the battle was drawing to a close. Ellen had landed a tricky blow from her sword to Jeorth’s shin, barely more than a scrape, but more than either combatant had scored in years. The bugbear’s green-brown blood oozed slowly from the wound to stain his already-dark body hair, and Ellen easily blocked the retaliatory swing of his axe. But Rook saw yet more sparks fly, and more importantly, he saw something that he was sure no one else had noticed yet: a crack. The shield would not hold to another direct strike.

“All your power, Jeorth. End this,” He commanded. It was the first time Rook had spoken in centuries, but his voice had lost none of its intensity or power. Jeorth grunted in understanding, took half a step back, then swung, hard, directly for Ellen’s chest. If she tried to dodge, the blow would likely still catch her, so she did the only thing she could. She blocked. A sickening snap echoed through the tree, and Ellen’s shield shattered into three pieces. One piece dangled uselessly from Ellen’s arm, one landed near her own feet, and the last piece landed at Rook’s feet. Ellen wheeled away from Jeorth’s next swing, barely avoiding a blow that would have completely severed her arm if it connected. Without a shield to hide behind, the superior range of the battleaxe would make it nearly impossible for her to approach.

Grace knew this. There was a moment, when Ellen drew blood, where she had hope, but now, Grace understood that the fight was all but over. Sure, she could let Ellen dance around the arena, dodging blows for another century or two, but eventually, that axe would find its target, and Ellen would die. She couldn’t let that happen.

“I surrender,” Grace spoke, loudly, stepping forward. “Ellen, throw down your weapon and take a knee.”

Ellen and Jeorth both paused mid-movement, but Ellen obeyed. She tossed down her sword at Jeorth’s feet, let the dangling piece of shield fall from her arm, and dropped to her knees. Jeorth gave a triumphant yell, raising his axe above his head, and Rook chuckled softly.

“You know the terms, little sister,” He taunted, rising from his throne, approaching Grace and holding out a hand, “The pendant.”

Grace reached up to where a small, round pendant hung from her neck. Within was contained one of the few remaining pieces of her god and his, The Protean. It was her most prized possession, and she had agreed to give it up if she lost this duel. She undid the hook at the back of the necklace, and placed it in Rook’s outstretched hand. “And we’ll be leaving, now, never to set foot in this part of the forest again. I’d advise you not to try and stop me.”

Rook pocketed the pendant, and turned away from Grace, “I have my own terms to stick to. Fly away, Grace. But the fairy stays. Jeorth deserves a trophy.” He stalked over to where Ellen was kneeling, her head lowered in obedience, and collected her sword from the ground. Rook’s red hand began to glow brightly, and an intense heat filled the tree. His black hand took hold of the heated metal of Ellen’s sword, and began to shape it. The fingers of his silver hand hammered at it, giving it new shape and dimension. And then, finally, his golden hand held the new creation aloft, and the heat in the room died down. When he tossed the collar to Jeorth, it was quite cool, and beautifully crafted. Some have called Rook a one-man forge, but it was more accurate to say that every forge ever created was a pale imitation of The First’s abilities of creation.

Grace was not impressed, however. “Ellen comes with me,” She insisted, closing her eyes and searching for the voice. The voice had guaranteed safety for both Grace and Ellen, after all, and-

“The fairy will be safe,” Said The Shadow, but their voice was no longer in Grace’s head. It echoed around the tree, slithering and whispering.

Rook looked pointedly at Jeorth, “Don’t break her.”

Jeorth, in turn, looked down at his fairy trophy, and she looked up at him. Jeorth was created for Ellen, and was glad his master allowed him to keep her close. The fight might be over, but the bugbear’s feelings for Ellen had grown into something more than mere rivalry over the centuries. The look she returned up to him was harder to interpret. But when he gave her the collar, she obediently clicked it shut around her neck. Rook reached down and tapped it, and they all knew that the collar would never open again.

Grace felt sick, but she turned away without arguing. “Fine. I’m leaving.” Spreading her wings, she exited through the large entrance carved in the side of the tree, and flew out above the once-familiar forest. Her thoughts were troubled, but she was resourceful. Losing Ellen was upsetting, but knowing that her safety was guaranteed was a small comfort. Besides, Grace had more important things to worry about, now.

Rook returned to his throne, and waited. The stranger refused to show himself, but he still spoke, “Now, Rook, you remember your promise, yes?”

Rook huffed. Of course he remembered. “What is it you need, then? Make it quick. I have armies to build and a world to conquer.”

“Yes, don’t worry,” The voice assured him, “My task is small, considering your skills. Close your eyes.”

As Rook’s eyes shut, his mind was filled with images. The voice was correct, it would be a small task for him, and yet, for anyone else, it would be an impossibility. “I see. Give me three days, and you’ll have your toy,” Rook stated, opening his eyes once more.

“I’ll be waiting.”