"Please . . . come back aloive . . ." whispered Icsorue, her voice too small for Eilert to hear, but the feeling was there.

Nothing interrupted his walk from one side of the atrium to the far opposite, nothing more than him bending over to take Sturm's firearm. It was a useful tool, a weapon which required little skill at close range if one truly intended to lay forth a killing blow. Icsorue and Sturm silently watched Eilert stand before the double doors and push open the right door, letting forth a small burst of light into a seemingly infinite expanse of darkness.

With the door open, Eilert was nothing more than a silhouette standing in place of one of two double-doors--a shadow of a man who could barely stand, tattered, torn, and beaten, his clothes ripped and limbs sagging, with the shadow of judgment by his side . . . the silhouette of the tired Executioner.

All that lay before him was darkness, almost limitless darkness, were it not for that one blight upon it: one single candle lit at the far end of what looked more like an endless, wide corridor. This was in no way a bedroom any longer, just as Selena's study had been changed, and deeper, even--in fact, they were beyond the reaches of the Sky Temple itself. The corridor which lead to the atrium was longer than the fortress itself, a shift of space that seemed unaccounted for, with this corridor just the same. Nonetheless, from where Eilert stood, he'd be able to see the faint image of a body upright behind the candle.

Before, when he'd been uncertain of who was the threat and who was the savior, Eilert had an odd feeling: that the fate of the world somehow rested on his decisions. It was difficult for him to fight with the world in consideration, but that didn't mean believing he could affect the direction the world took was any less of a burden.

Now, though, there was no doubt that man's existence on the planet--perhaps all life on the planet--was dependent on his actions. Silver stated that he intended for everything to be destroyed so that the world could start anew. He did not know whether his talk of Gaia was hyperbole or whether he truly believed he was serving the fabled creator of the universe...and he did not particularly care. For in Eilert's eyes, his crimes were not against the world, but against himself, Icsorue, and Sturm.

As he walked down the dark corridor, he kept his free on the wall, keeping himself steady, allowing him to move faster, and also providing a backup option in case Silver proved more than he could handle alone.

Silver...he was not close to him, not like he was to Icsorue and Sturm, nor did he command his trust the way Gold had. But all the same he had never thought to distrust him--his mere presence in the high ranks of the enigmas ensured he was given a certain level of trust.

Silver...who allowed the Angel of Plague into Selena's room, where she surely believed she was safe. Who engineered the death of Gold, who was highly respected and well liked by everyone. Who took advantage of a lost, lonely little girl and warped her to his own ends.

Who did the same to a broken man who had nothing left in the world.

Eilert never considered himself a vindictive man. In fact, he was willing to forgive most actions so long as the person who committed them was truly regretful. But Silver not only did not regret his actions, he believed there was nothing wrong with them in the first place. He showed no remorse over how he twisted the lives of those around him, let alone what he would do to the world.

Before today, Sturm thought he could kill anyone, no matter how innocent, in cold blood if it was for the world. And before today, Eilert believed that he could never kill anyone, no matter how evil, in cold blood.

Both turned out to be wrong.

As he drew near the figure silhouetted in the light of the lone candle, he could not muster the grace to mask his footsteps...but nor did he announce his presence. If Silver did not notice him, he was perfectly willing to walk up to him shoot him down without saying a word.

"I see."



The voice of the Guardian rang throughout the darkness, echoing as a boom, much louder than Silver's voice truly was. It was piercing, paralyzing--painful, even. Silver stood with his back turned, candle light behind him--he did nothing, acting not upon the drive to turn and face Eilert, were the drive even there. Behind him, upon which the candle was set, was a desk, a simplistic hardwood desk. Selena had written much upon this and used it to read and research, at times tireless--it was where she once held a book of the secrets of the world, which mankind was to never possess-- which not even the Prime Directors of their organization was to touch.

As Eilert came even closer, he would be able to conclude that Silver's hood was down, bunched up between his shoulder blades. With the Guardian's back turned to Eilert, there was no seeing his face, but his hair . . . it was several shades from black--tints of black mixed into gray and faded into the chin length mess of slicked back hair.

"So, you managed to get through Icsorue."

Beyond Silver was nothing more than a wall, now visible as Eilert had come even closer. The flat surface was home to something strange, though: a massive circle, gray, of the size of a human being. It fed pipes and wires into the wall, lines to the world. It was the same as another circular utility he had seen before--a method through which he opened the door to the atrium . . .



Skin tinted light blue with a veil of mist over it like evaporated and lingering cold sweat ran across the surface of the metal circle set upon the stone wall, a dance of the wrist of calligraphy--the art of handwriting, an art that stemmed from a the study of symbol induced magic . . .

"You truly have become a monster, Eilert Draugr." Silver announced, "Just like Tyrian Sturm before you.

"Flattery will get you nowhere at this juncture." If Silver were to turn around, he would see a humorless smile on Eilert's face. He wondered if Silver called him that for simply living through Icsorue's assault, or if he truly believed that his presence meant he killed her.

He hoped it was the latter...if he failed here, perhaps then Silver would be surprised to find he still had enemies alive and waiting.

"Do not feel bad, though. It has been the mistake of many today to underestimate me. Perhaps because for so long I underestimated myself."

His movements were slowing...he could tell that much. Perhaps because of the Glyph of Will, his support glyphs were lasting much longer than they normally should have. But even that must have its limit...additionally, he did not know what effect that might have on his body.

"So...this is why you summoned me, then. I wonder how long it would take you to do something I could accomplish in mere minutes."

"There is no flattery in becoming a beast," replied Silver as the motion of his right hand across the metal frame began to slow, "It is a notion of ignorance. A beast-- a monster-- an animal . . . they are ignorant, they are below human thought because they know not the difference between good and evil. They know not how to establish civilized society, and they know not how to act upon that which would be best for them, be it outside of their prior thinking. A monster stands against the current of change and degrades himself into less of a man to stand stronger in resistance, refusing to acknowledge that change is often for the better."



Silver let his right arm drop to his side. Indeed, Eilert had made the correct deduction of the necessity of his presence. Silver let his eyes fall to the book in his left hand, and then upon the symbol imprinted upon the metal before him. It was still incomplete, but with fair reason: it was intricate; maddeningly so. With what Silver had done so far, it may have taken Eilert more than just minutes to accomplish. Study may have been necessary first, followed by trial and error upon lesser objects . . . it was the method in which new "phrases" were tested--it was rigorous, and sometimes slow.

Because of Eilert's understanding of glyphs as a language, he'd be able to discern certain portions of the "phrase" as it appeared on Silver's left and right. Much of it was incomplete, so the intricate weaving of mana into the highly reactant surface had to be assumed--but "light" and "dark" were clear, one on the left, the other on the right, but they were presented in a way that they were potentially upon the same symbol. The rest would remain indiscernible until Silver moved.



Though he did not move from the reactant circle, Silver did turn to Eilert. A long face stared at him with frown lines so defined they looked more like scars, with eyes sunk into his skull, a wrinkled brow, his hairline pushed back with middle-age, and cheekbones defined and furthering his appearance of age. He looked only years older than Sturm did, now--Sturm, who through his sleeplessness, looked as if he were charging headlong to 50, and Silver who looked no older than fifty-three, if that. The same hazy blue upon his hands carried throughout the entirety of his flesh, with mist constantly set about his skin.

Silver had the look of a dead man, one who froze to death, and was now in an eternal state of de-thaw. Silver began to step to the side, allowing the rest of the glyph to be seen. The left and right side was the only portions left undone--and he was having trouble with it. The middle, however, was complete: God, godless, balance, life, death-- a series of symbols strung together and linked to the larger symbols of "Light" and "Dark" as a means of creating one unified symbol, one static glyph.

"Only moments," Silver announced.

"And yet...Sturm proved, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he knows the difference between good and evil, even if he believed he could overlook it. In order to save the world, he tried to become a beast...and he could not do it. And here you stand, with an ambition so great you that any obstacle becomes meaningless. Which of you, I wonder, is truly a beast?"

Eilert shook his head sadly. "But of course you will not admit to anything...you cannot see how the same accusations you level at humanity you embody. You are so entrenched in your ideology that everything you do becomes "right," and all that is against you becomes "wrong." Nothing I say will dissuade you from that."

He continued to approach, a slow, methodical approach of someone who could not afford a single misstep. To move faster would be to invite his body to finally give out on him, and that was something he could not risk.

In one glance he could tell the glyph was ambitious--the phrases in the glyph were certainly grand, the type that were rarely used in practical application. But he could also tell that it was incomplete, perhaps because Silver could not understand what it was he was writing. Any idiot can copy a pattern down on paper, as with any writing, and be told what it means. To truly understand what it meant was another thing entirely. It was possible that true to his claim, Silver was only moments from deciphering the missing pieces...or he could possibly spend the rest of his life trying to figure it out without knowing it.

He wondered if Silver even knew that without understanding the glyph, it would never work the way he wanted it to, if it even worked at all.

"But...I'm afraid I am like neither you nor Sturm, nor even Icsorue. This world holds no allure to me; I have been apart from it for too long. Whether it needs saving or cleansing I don't profess to know. I won't kill you for seeking to destroy the world...I truly can't comprehend such a thing."

"It is for what you've done to him...to myself...and to her. For the lives of those faces I know that you've so carelessly discarded...that is why you will die."

And it returned...the grim, humorless smile. Icsorue's pain was so great, her misfortunes so tremendous and obvious that the cracks in her psyche were readily visible to anyone who observed her in a stressful situation. She was quick to breakdown, freak out, and altogether become unstable.

Eilert was no paragon of mental health himself. If he was, he would never have become a puppet in the first place. But the cracks in his psyche were not immediately obvious, because they weren't evident in his actions. It was only when one got quite deep into his thoughts that they would realize there was anything wrong with him at all...

"Whether you think I am evil or good...a man or a beast...it does not much matter to me. You can consider me the ultimate embodiment of man's will, seeking to save his species from extinction...or you can think of me as a lowly beast that's turning on its master. I will kill you just the same."

It was to be expected that Silver wasn't going to respond to any sort of criticism, be it positive or negative. He never did, and even in a situation this climactic and important, he simply ignored it. That was what he always did, at least--and given the opportunity, always will.

That didn't mean he refrained from listening to Eilert at all. There were some points made that he had to give thought, and for a moment, Silver was dead silent--but, of course, not for the reasons which Eilert would have preferred. He stood there for several moments, staring, his eyes locked upon Eilert's face, never moving.

"Interesting," Silver finally spoke.

Silver let his attention fall back to the book. He paid careful attention to the passages as he once again went silent. The book was seemingly devoid of Common writing--ancient to the standards that it was something Eilert personally would have studied in school, when he attended it so long ago. While Eilert himself was not ancient, his craft was, and early literature regarding it was written entirely in dead languages.

"I would imagine, then, that you would be supporting this change," Silver narrated as he lifted the book, slowly flipping through several aged and ancient papers, careful with each one, "If it is your friends, and yourself, which you strive to right, then the salvation of man-- of you, of Sturm, of Icsorue, of all living beings --should be in your best interest."

It worked both ways; no criticism either man leveled at the other would have any effect. Silver was too arrogant to be convinced any action he took was wrong; and from a man like that, Eilert could hardly be offended. In fact, the more Silver disagreed with him, the more he was sure of himself.

"If I considered death any kind of salvation, perhaps I would. But now we do not even get the luxury of an afterlife--we simply cease to be. So forgive me if I wish they to make the most of the life they have now."

He continued his approach, sweating with exertion, praying that his glyphs and energy held out long enough for him to finish the job. It was odd, though, that Silver was disregarding his presence in favor of looking at the texts in front of him.

"Do you truly believe you can finish that in the time it will take me to reach you?" Eilert asked bluntly. Even if he managed to decipher the meaning of the missing parts, he certainly didn't have enough time to add them to the glyph.

It was true that they had no afterlife--or so was the presumption. There had actually been no proof of a former enigma having any semblance of a life beyond this, and with that, after so many long years of the existence of the organization, there was no doubt that this was their only remaining chance at life--and still, they fought for what they felt was the betterment of mankind and the world as a whole.

"The salvation of man is not in its destruction," Silver announced loudly, his voice a booming echo of a sermon, far exceeding the volume of Eilert's own voice.



The book was set down. He was not looking into the glyphs, but further reading--reading of prophecy, reading related strictly to Eilert and the conflict between he and Silver.

"But its rebirth."

Silver set his open hand upon the page, leaning forward, allowing the desk to hold him up. He stared straight into the eyes of Eilert once again--Eilert, who was still approaching shakily, who would not give up until his goals were achieved. Had Sturm not taken a hold upon him, would Eilert have gone along with everything Silver said? Would he have asked questions and required input from his superior? Even if he did, how likely would it be that he'd willingly act upon Silver's wishes? At the very least, he would have no will--if all else failed, Silver would have simply given the command, but that option was gone, now.

"No End is absolute," for once, there was tone--emotion. Silver sounded . . . hopeful. "In the nothing left behind of this world's collapse, my Lord shall create His world-- a Utopian Reality.

Eilert was...disgusted with that line of thinking. As though it would be comfort to anyone else on this world that the next would be better, when they would be erased. Not killed, but gone--with nothing to indicate they'd ever been.

"No end is absolute...that is true in the grand scheme of things. But it would be the end of everyone here nevertheless, and that I will not accept. If your lord wishes to create a new world, he can do it elsewhere."

As Eilert slowly drew closer to the lone source of illumination in the room, Silver would be able to see the kind of damage he'd received thus far--the cuts, the burns, the bruises...all proof of the will he now possessed. A will he'd lost for a long time, only returned to him via the blood of a brave man who never gave up on him. It was literally all that kept his broken body going.

"How funny, though, that a god would suffer from the same flawed, selfish, absolute way of thought that plagues his creations so. It makes me wonder if he could truly create a utopia even were he given another chance."

"I see. So, you still do not understand . . ."

Silver spared attention to Eilert's wounds. Truly, the man had walked through hell--it was the only way to give his experience a name. It was of no consequence to Silver, however: a man who thought little of this life, although his preaching seemed to make little to no sense to Eilert--and Sturm before him. The concept of the world ending . . . it was difficult for anyone to grasp, and rightly so. Sturm had not seen what Eilert had, though. There were certain extents of secrets and mysterious to which he was ignorant to--of which Eilert knew and would know. Silver opened his arms as if he were a saint inviting Eilert into the depths of his church--to take refuge from the cold . . .

"Death, even for us, is temporary."

. . . and then, everything went white . . .

Everything and nothing changed in an instant. Eilert staggered, not just from the grievous wounds (which seemed both new and old to him at the same time) but from the sudden splitting headache, images and voices going rapidly through his head...

Another him, in another world...a place between worlds, a great battle...his own cloak, his own face, reflected darkly...and then nothingness, in its purest most destructive form, eating away at everything he knew...

That was what Silver would inflict upon the world: absolute nothing.

"It is...you...who does not understand," he gasped, struggling to remain on his feet--he'd gotten too used to a powerful, healthy body. "The nothingness you would inflict...not even a god would survive it."

"There would be no rebirth, no new world...just absolute void, for all eternity."

It was almost as if Eilert had paused for a lifetime--yet not all the same. Only moments of silence passed between them, before Eilert fell ill with a brief illness of images and words.

"The End will swallow all, you are correct . . ." replied Silver, yet at the same time, he shook his head.

Silver spoke as if no time was lost between them--because, in truth, no time had been lost at all. Eilert simply dazed out for a moment, that was all.

The sunken eyes of Silver investigated the contours of Eilert's face. Eilert spoke as if he knew exactly what would become of the world with this glyph--but that was not entirely out of the question. Eilert was a scientist when it came to glyphs. He knew what individual phrases meant, and had he the opportunity to study the glyph Silver constructed, he would have no doubt understood what it all came to mean: a mass obliteration of existence, a veritable nothing that would swallow everything.

"There need be but one consciousness, in the End," Silver's tone rose greatly, emphasizing his next declaration, "It is that final consciousness which shall inherit the End--and thus, the Beginning."

Silver lifted his hand up, reaching to indicate an altitude far beyond their capabilities.

"And that last lingering consciousness will be my God--the one who will justify this broken world."

"No...that's..." Eilert shook his head; it was painful to think about. It felt like someone had crammed an entire library into his skull, and it picking out individual images from the collection was currently an exercise in endurance and persistence.

Gathering his wits and recollections, he continued more coherently. "You cannot comprehend the power of nothing. Your god is not immune to annihilation; he too will succumb to the void."

Catching his breath, drew himself up again, to his full height. "There are no exceptions to nothingness. A god is still an existence, and nothing requires the end of all existence. There will be no beginnings or endings, no rebirth or recreation...there will not be anything."

His eyes met Silver's, and they blazed with a surety that belied his battered state. "You would end everything with your nearsightedness--your dream is nothing more than wishful thinking, to be eternally unfulfilled."

"My dream?" Silver looked almost surprised. "Do you really think I would have done all of this on a single whim? Created this with my own ingenuity?"

Silver's surprise turned into a brief scoff, and soon the same emotionless stare as before.

"This is the will of a higher power, Eilert Draugr." Silver pointed, then, to the glyph behind him, indicating the portion that was missing, "It is God's will that this glyph is completed. That is why he brought you to me."

It wasn't that he left pieces missing, of course. He'd done all he could with the knowledge he was able to gain, knowledge plucked from Eilert's mind, more than likely against his will, and his own personal research. It was likely that he'd been doing this for years on end--perhaps as long as Eilert had been around, if not longer. It wasn't that he left pieces missing on purpose.

It was that he couldn't complete it on his own. Were Eilert unable to resist Silver's ability, the glyph would be complete by now--but now, it was at Eilert's will if it was to be or not.