In Lindon’s spirit, Little Blue and Orthos were rapidly-approaching spots of pure horror. Orthos galloped up with Blue on his back, running with the speed of the Burning Cloak.
“What are you doing sitting there?” Orthos shouted. “Do you want to be outrun by a turtle?”
When Orthos battered into Lindon’s leg, Lindon reached down and scooped up Little Blue. Her trembling sounded like the jingling of glass shards, and he gathered her to his chest.
She should have been even more frightened than he was, but her trembling slowed. Little Blue gave one long flute sigh and embraced him.
Lindon sat down next to Orthos. The turtle was headbutting him over and over, but each one was weaker.
“Run,” Orthos mumbled. “We have to…”
“There’s nowhere to run,” Lindon said. He looked up to the sky and watched points of light wink out, one at a time.
Orthos lifted his head, and Lindon could see the despair in his eyes when he saw for himself.
A moment later, a bar of Blackflame shot up into the sky.
“You never know,” Orthos rumbled. “Maybe this enemy can be burned.”
Yerin looked at him for a moment before snorting a laugh. She wiped her tears and sat down on Lindon’s left side. “Always thought I’d go down fighting.”
Lindon took her hand. “I never thought it would end here.”
But it was the end. When he saw the stars vanish, he knew the truth without doubt. An ant had a better chance of resisting a boot.
He had to admit, he was somewhat bitter about that. He had set his sights far beyond this world, thinking it was too small for him. He’d fulfilled everything Suriel had promised him, so that even she had descended and met him again.
Now, after all that, he was going to die here after all.
Yerin snapped off a long stalk of dry grass and popped one end into her mouth. “Can’t say I’m smiling about ending it like this, but weighing all our options, we didn’t have it so bad.” She glanced around at their surroundings. “Just think: you could have died in Sacred Valley.”
Lindon laughed and looked over at a small sound.
Ziel was weakly kicking a mound of dirt, over and over. He wasn’t using nearly the strength he was capable of, but from the expression on his face, he was still taking out some long-held anger.
“Now?” Ziel demanded. “It had to be now? I pull myself back together, and the world ends!”
Yerin jerked her head. “Come on, drop yourself down with us.”
“Why? Is that the hill that will survive the end of all things?”
“You rather die alone?”
Ziel grumbled, but he trudged over and plopped down, still seething with visible frustration.
Yerin craned behind him. “Anybody clap eyes on Mercy?”
That got Lindon thinking about who they were missing. There were precious few stars left now, and even the wind had stopped blowing. Grass hung still in the night air, waiting, as the buzzing pressure behind the air increased.
He didn’t need the Void Icon to tell him that the end was almost here.
You’ve been quiet, he said to Dross.
[I am ready to face this despair!] Dross cried. He spun out into reality, smile crazed. [If the darkness is to snuff out the stars, I say, let us see what waits on the other side of oblivion!]
Lindon rested his sealed right arm on Dross’ head. “Looks like we’ll find out together.”
The spirit’s large eye swiveled to Lindon. [You did not abandon me, so I have nothing left to fear!]
Lindon’s heart tightened. Now, more than ever, he wished he had been able to meet the old Dross one more time.
Lindon glanced left and right. He tried extending his spiritual perception, but found that all he could sense was endless death.
“I thought you’d have popped in by now,” Lindon said to the air.
No one responded.
“Eithan?”
For some reason, even in the face of the imminent apocalypse, Eithan’s absence alarmed him. He untangled himself from Yerin, Blue, and Orthos, and he drifted a short distance away to where he’d last sensed the Archlord.
Eithan was still there, on his hands and knees, heedless of the dirt on his clothes. His fingers tightened on the soil, and his back shook.
It took Lindon a long moment to realize that Eithan was quietly sobbing. Tears plopped to the ground one at a time.
Lindon placed a gentle hand on his back, but Eithan didn’t respond.
“Thank you, Eithan,” Lindon said quietly. “For everything.”
Eithan looked at Lindon in shock. His expression slowly softened, and he rose to his feet. He placed his hands on Lindon’s shoulders and met his eyes.
“I’m proud of you, Lindon,” Eithan said.
That hit Lindon harder than he had imagined.
The others were looking over to them, and Eithan swept towards them. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t wipe his face or brush his clothes clean.
“I had hoped we would have many more years together,” Eithan said, in something approaching his usual tones. “I wanted to see the sights beyond this world with you. All of you.”
A distant scream of terror echoed in Lindon’s mind, and he looked up. He was just the first. The others looked up a second or two later.
The sky was completely black now. Empty, except for one figure.
He was only the size of a human, so he should have been invisible at that distance, the man in the bone armor. But Lindon could see him clearly.
His eyes blazed under the shadow of his helm, balls of red fire. He wore a full suit of armor that had been carved from yellowed bone, and a pelt of ancient fur fell from his shoulders. Lindon shuddered as he sensed the power emanating from the figure.
It was depthless. Boundless. He twisted the world just by being here.
In both hands, he held a Scythe so black that its darkness stood out even against the empty sky. As he stared at that Scythe, Lindon knew he was staring at the end. An apocalypse given form. It was like seeing his own death.
Eithan snapped his fingers, and Lindon realized that he had never looked up at all.
“We don’t have much time left. If this is going to be the end, then remember one thing from me: I loved every second with you all. I really, truly…had so much fun.”
Yerin met his gaze for a moment and then threw her arms around his ribs.
“If there’s another side, we’ll catch you there,” she said.
He smiled fondly and placed a hand on her head. “Yes, I suppose you will.”
The earth seemed to snap. Not like an earthquake breaking open a canyon, but as though someone had slashed through a painting. Not long now.
Lindon looked around from face to face, and there was too much he wanted to say. Yerin slid away from Eithan and went back to Lindon. He looked deeply into her red eyes and searched for the right words.
But apparently Eithan wasn’t finished. He cleared his throat. “It seems like I’ll be leaving a little sooner than the rest of you. I’ll miss you all when I’m gone. Tell Mercy for me, will you?”
The figure in the sky was now the only thing that seemed real. Spatial cracks spiraled across the black sky, as the entire world crumbled just as Ghostwater once had.
Well, Lindon thought, at least I’ll see beyond this world after all.
Then he realized what Eithan had said.