Page 111 of The Dark Lord Awakens
“Three-D printed the base forms, then hand-painted them,” Cole confirmed. “I thought… he would have appreciated the Enolyn reference.”
“They’re beautiful,” Wes said, genuinely impressed. “When did you find time to do this? You’ve been swamped with that research grant all month.”
Cole shrugged slightly. “Couldn’t sleep much this week. Painting helped.”
Wes nodded in understanding. They both had their ways of dealing with the anniversary—Wes threw himself into fencing practice until he was too exhausted to think, while Cole apparently channeled his emotions into meticulous artwork.
“He would have loved these,” Wes said softly. “Probably would have asked you to paint his entire collection of gaming miniatures.”
“And I would have said no,” Cole replied with a slight smile. “But ended up doing it anyway.”
“The Dark Lord had that effect on people,” Wes agreed.
Cole carefully placed the figurines beside the flowers, arranging them as if they were standing guard over Beau’s resting place. “The Dark Lord and his would-be challengers,” he said softly. “Together at last, though not how any of us imagined.”
“I logged into Enolyn last night,” Wes admitted. “First time in years.”
“And?” Cole prompted.
“Iferona’s in ruins. Raiders have stripped almost everything of value. The AI maintains basic functions, but the castle is crumbling, the economy has collapsed.” Wes’ voice held a note of genuine sadness. “Everything he built, slowly being erased.”
“Like he never existed,” Cole said softly.
“No,” Wes replied with sudden intensity. “Not like that. Never like that. He existed. He mattered. He changed us.”
Cole nodded, the emotion in his eyes matching Wes’ own. “You’re right,” he agreed. “He changed everything.”
As Cole arranged the figurines with precise care, a strange sensation rippled through the air around them. At first, Wes thought it was just the evening breeze picking up, but then he noticed how the shadows seemed to elongate and shift in ways that defied the angle of the setting sun.
“Cole,” he said quietly, “are you seeing this?”
Cole had already risen to his feet, his body tense as he surveyed their surroundings. “Something’s happening with the light and air pressure.”
Wes watched in growing alarm as the space between them and Beau’s headstone began to shimmer, like heat rising from summer asphalt.
“We should step back,” Cole suggested, though neither man moved.
The shimmering intensified, coalescing into a circle of light that hovered above the grave. Within the circle, symbols appeared—complex, flowing patterns that seemed to shift and change even as they watched. The air hummed with energy that raised the hair on their arms and filled the air with the scent of ozone.
“This is impossible,” Wes whispered.
“And yet it’s happening,” Cole replied.
The circle expanded, the light within it brightening until it should have been painful to look at—yet somehow, it wasn’t. Instead, it felt inviting, almost familiar, as if they were seeing something they’d always known but never recognized.
“It’s pulling us in,” Cole said as he felt the inexorable tug toward the light.
Wes reached out, grasping Cole’s hand in his own. “Together, then. As always.”
Cole’s fingers tightened around his. “As always.”
Neither man resisted as the light enveloped them, lifting them from the solid ground of the cemetery into something vastand unknowable. Their last sight of Earth was Beau’s headstone, the fresh flowers, and the gaming figurines they’d placed there—a paladin and a ranger, standing guard over the memory of the Dark Lord they had both admired from afar.
Then darkness. Followed by light.
