Epilogue 2- Final

Date: Many, Many Passes In The Future

He woke from a deep, troubled sleep. There were no dreams. Just the darkness and a lingering feeling of something terribly sad heavy in his chest.

He didn’t recognize the room. It was draped in long deep blue curtains and tapestries. Even the bed was dressed in curtains and thick blue blankets, trimmed in burnished gold. It was certainly luxurious, he couldn’t deny that. But something felt missing. Something that caused the sadness he felt.

As he made his way into the center of the room, he saw that he was already dressed. Long blue robes fell down to his feet, perfectly tailored, of slightly shimmering cloth. They were light and comfortable, the sort of robes that he remembered wanting. But that was long ago in a time that was difficult to remember.

He stopped before the mirror on the wall and turned to face the reflection there. He didn’t recognize it. His skin was darkened with a grayish hue, which didn’t give the picture of perfect health as far as he could see. His hair was unruly and long, a deep blue-sheened black, except for a streak of white that fell across his right eye. And his eyes. They were strange — deep, dark green except for a pupil of burning white.

He felt himself shiver involuntarily.

What’s wrong with me? Why do I look this way?

He couldn’t remember well, but something told him that there was something wrong with this. People didn’t normally look like that.

Or do they?

“Don’t complain. You should have seen what you looked like BEFORE we fixed that mess,” a snide voice echoed through his room.

With reflexes like lightning, he spun about. His hand reached instinctively for a weapon that didn’t exist. His dark eyes narrowed on the group of strangers that stood in the far doorway.

“Whoa,” a quiet female voice murmured. “Are you sure he’s not dangerous?”

“Of course he’s dangerous,” another voice answered. “Why do you think Lord Zeromus put so much effort into bringing him back?”

“Is it true that he once served as a Marked Champion?” yet another asked.

“Hrumph,” responded the first snide voice. “Master TsuMeTai. I do apologize for their rudeness on our first meeting.”

A shape broke away from the shadows in the doorframe. He saw a white-haired man in a long, unmarked robes. A pair of glasses perched on his nose. The way he looked over the rims at everyone spoke of arrogance and disdain.

“Who are you?” he growled slightly.

“We are your loyal and humble servants,” the man offered a wide, slick smile, spreading his hands.

“Speak for yourself, Zemus,” another grumbled from behind.

The one called Zemus turned with a direct, silencing glare. “Master TsuMeTai is the Champion of Lord Zeromus. I suggest you give him the same respect that you do our High Master. Or you might find yourself next on the list.”

Then silence did fall, for good.

He finally spoke, “How did I get here? I can’t remember much.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Master. It will come back to you in time,” was the overly cheerful answer.

TsuMe was starting to dislike the eagerness of the smiley man. In fact, it made him feel like throwing up.

“Now come, Master,” Zemus waved his hand forward, oblivious to the nausea he was causing, “You must be hungry. We have a meal prepared for you.”

The Champion followed with a sour look. Food sounded like a good idea. At least, food in a place that looked like this couldn’t be too bad.

“Master,” the girl stopped him with a slight touch on his arm. “No offense meant but, you may want to pull your hood up before leaving your quarters.”

“Huh?” he fingered his robe, finding a hood sewn onto the back of the collar.

“People here are not used to seeing someone of your superior station,” she winked before walking out the door.

Right. That’s not what you really meant.

He huffed and flipped the hood over his head to hide his growing scowl. Then he followed the others out through the tall doorway, looking across the great structure that stretched around them on every side. It was an ornate building of great style and beauty, traced with tapestries and etchings, runes and shifting patterns along the walls.

Everywhere he looked, there was something that made him catch his breath in splendor. Though many white-haired people moved across the floor, down below the balcony, there was hardly a word whispered. It was as if no one dared to make a sound.

“Don’t look so surprised, Master TsuMeTai. This has all been given to you to rule over in the name of Lord Zeromus,” the smiley man motioned around them with a grand gesture. “Welcome to the Manor of Runne.”

~Dreigiau’s End… To Be Continued…~