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Finally faced with a foe even he could not defeat, Sir Mego Stone laid down his sword and closed his eyes. And so passed the realms greatest defender.

The figure looked at the line he had written and felt his eyes mist over. He moved to close the book, paused, and signed a simple closing line: Wode, Historian Errant

He closed the book with a sigh. His eyes closed as he remembered a different time. A massive tome, it still contained massive gaps in time, gaps where no one stepped forward to carry the pen in his absence. Or absences, as he left and returned several times. Only proper he return for the end.

He rose from the table, ignoring the weight of the heavy armor beneath his black robe. From its wallmount, he lifted Birdmuter, the ostard bane, his constant companion, his sole companion on this last journey. He thought to grab the History, but reconsidered. To wallow too long in the past had no purpose.

He walked out of the room and found himself elsewhere. He was now a she, with long honey blond hair and a dress of sunlight. Climbing to the castle's highest point, the queen looked down upon her realm. So many had fallen in its defense, but no sacrifice could save it now. All around, ghostly riders with staves of flame waited for his pronouncement.

His pronouncement, for he was male once more. His hand held a staff of flame that matched the riders', his clothes were blue-white, with a cloak to match. An unchanging face with a perfect vandyke was crowned with a feathered hat.

"Go now. Your service is at an end." Dismissed, the staves flickered and died, the spectral figures faded to mist. Beckett gave one last look at the world he'd spent so much time with, but could never reach again, before he too faded into the mists of time.

He closed the book with a sigh. Wode, the first knight of Chaos, the rebel, the great warrior, the historian errant, closed his eyes as he remembered a different time.

The names uttered here can not pass. They are woven and engraved into the fabric of the land and the hearts and minds of all those who have passed through that land. Long live Mego, Wode and Beckett.

And once again Homer earns my admiration, for saying it better than I ever could.