Eternity
By Hawke Darkblade

Reprinted with permission.
Added 07/19/2002.

The rain ceaselessly poured down from the sky as he took his final steps up the tower to which he had been summoned. The final steps of a weary man, who has been through hell and back, just to find himself where he started many months before. The tower was one of the last remaining Empyrean spires on the mainland. Just off the coast of Tou Tou, perhaps it once served as a beacon to safely guide ships around the peninsula. He had been summoned by the brotherhood of Phoenix, to complete his final ritual. Each step he took was painful for him, as he was leaving behind something and someone that he would never want to leave, yet he knew for the sake of his sanity, and for all that once loved him, that he must.

Each step he took up the ramp was more and more difficult, and he dragged his feet as the weight of his armor pushed down on him. He stopped on the ramp to look up at the night sky, rain pouring down his face into his helmet. He removed his helmet, and silently, without any emotion, tossed it off the spire to crash to the ground many feet below him. He shrugged off his armored sleeves, and he dropped them uncaringly to the stone ramp behind them, to be found by whomever wanted them. He removed his dagger from its belt sheath and he cut the straps of his breastplate and leggings, and they fell. Still he felt no emotion, just weariness as he walked up the ramp. With each piece of armor he removed, he removed a piece of himself.

Then he turned, after walking a few more paces up the ramp, to see the remnants of his armor strewn behind him like an old friend, now discarded, those remnants of his life, which once he coveted so dearly, now meaningless. He turned forward again, and continued wearily up the ramp, hugging his pack with him. Then he realized that all that was left of his life were the three items in his pack. He silently opened his pack, rain streaming into it, and removed the Moonstone Chalice. He stared at it for a moment, and silently, without remorse, placed it on the ramp. He then removed his spear from the straps of his pack. His most worthy weapon, his most trusted friend. Without a thought, he tossed it over the edge of the ramp. Lastly he reached into his pack, carefully removed the Sword of Lost Light and slowly placed it on the ramp. He stood up and looked down on it, nodded once, and knew that he would never see it again.

He began to remember everything that happened to him since he entered this world of Dereth. His innocence began upon his arrival to Dereth, just trying to stay alive with the meager possessions that he had with him. By sheer force of will and strength of resolve, he pushed himself to become the Monarch he once was. The gathering of vassals, of friends. The nurturing of those vassals into the powerful allies that they once were, before they scattered from him into the ends of Dereth, never to be seen by him again. Mostly he thought of his true love, the one that he had betrayed all others for, even his fiancée, and he wept. His tears stronger than the driving rain, which tore from the night sky.

His body shook as he held himself in his arms, to keep from falling over the side. His tunic and breeches soaked through, and he could feel the coldness of his grave closing in on him. The feeling was that of utter hopelessness. He was thoroughly lost, and this time, never to be found again.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp peal of thunder, as lightning lit the dark sky, revealing the demonic shape, which loomed on the horizon. A dark shape, to match his mood. A dark sky full of fury to match his soul. In all ways that mattered, he was that demon. He brought destruction and chaos to the land. And he would gladly do it again, all for love.

He once thought he was ready for the ritual. Not two weeks ago he was the happiest man in Dereth, to be wed to the woman that brought him back from the darkness, yet still, not his true love. Even now his thoughts betrayed him. He had never lost his love for the woman, which fueled his passion. He betrayed her once, and now he betrayed his fiancée, by forsaking her for his true love.

He shook again, and staggered towards the edge of the ramp, and held himself as he wept uncontrollably. He stood dangerously close to the precipice, the rain and wind threatening to push him over the edge, yet still something made him move back to the safety of the wall behind him. He was shivering violently now, the cold seeping into every being of his body, and continued up the ramp by some unknown force that was moving him now.

He finally arrived to the place of his summoning, and confusion overcame him as he looked around, not seeing his summoner. He had his words all ready to say to his brother, that he was not ready, that he would never be ready. Where was his brother who was supposed to perform the ritual? Even now, when it did not matter to him, he still wondered.

Then he heard it, a whispering voice, which seemed to rise above the peals of thunder, and the driving rain. A voice from his past, a voice which launched him forward to the uppermost platform of the tower. He ran, forgetting the cold, forgetting the danger, which loomed at every step, and threatened to sweep him over the edge. He ran without a care for safety, and stopped short when he saw the sight.

There she was, on the highest platform, caring for the covered brazier, which still lit the night sky through the rain, his one true love. She was dressed in tunic and breeches even as he was, soaked to the skin. Her armor and possessions nowhere to be seen. She was whispering to the brazier in prayer for her love, for him. He looked at her through his tears, and once again knew love. She slowly looked up from the brazier, her golden hair clinging to her rain streaked face. They stood and looked at each other, smiling faintly, knowing only love for one another.

Slowly, as he walked towards her, she stepped away from the brazier, and they embraced in a passion that warmed their souls. The cold forgotten, the rain, the wind, the night left behind, they looked into each other's eyes, and knew. This was true love, one that could never be lost, even in death.

Without a word, they held hands, and walked towards the edge of the tower. Lightning streaked through the sky, and lit their faces as if it were daylight. They looked at each other, smiling once again, knowing that they would be together for all eternity.

***

The crashing of the waves against the surf was louder than the thunder that ripped through the night. The rocks were being beaten upon by the fury of nature. The water pounded the rocks as if to tear them from their lodging, perhaps in time, it would. As perhaps, in time, a new warrior would come and mend the broken spear, and shredded tunic, which lay among those rocks. A warrior full of promise and passion. A warrior who would unite the land, and bring peace and prosperity back to Dereth. A warrior who would be worthy of the name... Darkblade.

The End.