COAST OF TRAKNOR, WESTERN CONTINENT
September 16, 793 - Talismanian Reckoning
Tinkling noise sounding eerily like shattered crystal faded into the background, and all was silent. The First Evil was gone at last, defeated by Elrohir Githain, who lay injured and bleeding on the ground from his trials. He had never in his life remembered feeling the pain that seered its way, both mentally and physically, through him. He had failed his trust to Rhisiart, to bring his beloved Rhiannon back.
Rhiannon! Her body still lay back away from the coast, out of sight of the ships that carried the still floating remnants of the Phaeman Alliance. Struggling, he managed to stand despite his agony. At least he could bring her to the shore, where Rhisiart might retrieve her. It was the best he could do.
It was not far to Rhiannon's body, and the trip was short. He had an unexpected visitor awaiting his arrival. Kneeling over Rhiannon, arranging her body, was another girl. She looked up as he approached, and choked back a muffled cry.
Elrohir fell to his knees. She was so like Siran! Her stomach bulged slightly, indicating her own pregnancy. How did she come to be here?
"You saved us all," she said.
"Would that it had come at less cost, in a happier time of my life rather than despair, my lady."
"There is a price to be paid for anything. Nothing is without cost. Not even love, sir."
"Love?"
"Take her back, for she deserves burial elsewhere."
"I do not think I can go on. I'm so drained."
The girl placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. Warmth spread throughout him, and life returned to his limbs.
"That will be enough to get you back to the coast carrying her."
"Who are you, my lady."
"My name is Aerlin. I know who you are, Elrohir. Your fate is elsewhere. The First Evil is defeated. Go."
"Thank you Aerlin. Your hospitality will not go unpaid for either. The First Evil is defeated, truly, but I learned something anew. The Dark Heart lives still, and is angry. I felt it as part of the First Evil. I know, somehow, that you can deal with it."
"I will. Let it be part of your worries no longer. Go to your reward."
Elrohir nodded, and Aerlin helped him hoist Rhiannon. Then she watched them leave. History continued on as it had before, and Elrohir died on the ship bearing him back to Dantimos, just after writing the very book, Edair, that she had carried for a time. But now, things might be a bit different.