At the end of the Third Age, there was almost nothing left behind to remember. War tore through the entire world under the banners of leaders of each race. The reason? Simple: power. Immeasurable power.
And where that power came from, how the races attained it, what was sacrificed—it is bitter to explain.
My mind is numb, my heart shattered. There is blood on my hands from countless souls, those who deserved it and those who didn't.
The wind is dry. The air is filled with the smell of blood, and I feel the aftermath has changed this world forever.
Today, an age will come to an end. I don't regret it. I unleashed something that should never be done, something none of the races would have imagined in their wildest dreams. If I were to tell my past self that I would someday become the end of an age—in a not-so-pleasant way—I would never believe it.
My time has come to an end. So has the destruction. You shall live on, my partner. I know you don't want to, but I don't have a choice. You must live on. It is the last of the sacrifices I ask of you.
The fool who dreamed of a peaceful and happy life looked at his companion, his gaze resting upon her for the one last time. He offered the ghost of a smile, a final, silent apology. He saw the cosmic night of her vast form, a silhouette of midnight against the blood-red sky. He saw the ancient sorrow in her stillness, a grief that dwarfed his own.
Then, the forbidden magic, having consumed his purpose, consumed him. He did not fall. He did not burn. He simply… un-became. A column of fine grey dust, scattered instantly by the hollow wind.
He turned to dust.
Renegeral looked at the place where her hope, her burden, her only friend, had stood until his last breath. The wind that stole his ashes could not take away the emptiness she was feeling now. A profound, bone-deep weariness settled upon her, a longing not for the past, not for her lost kin, but for a simple ending. Her partner was gone. The world she knew was gone. She was alone in the silence he had brought.
Renegeral fell to the ground, or what can be called a left over of a mountain. She raised her head and look at the eclipse, she couldn't feel her legs, she was losing her sense of self. One last time she turned in the direction where her precious old elf stood and closed her eyes for she had already lost her sight. In the end she stopped breathing.
She turned to stone.
Waiting, mourning, perhaps resting out of exhaustion. Not in death, but in waiting. A mighty monument perhaps, a bringer of desolation, resting at last from the burden no soul could surmount.
And there she shall remain, a statue of unending night, until a new hope is born in this new world finds her… and finds a way to end her insurmountable burden, and set her free, for she must fulfil one last purpose.