You worthless phantom. I can see through your masks. Do you think me such the fool that I would not see through your facade? You are no more a king than I am the spirit of hope. The prophecy is dead, as are you.

I am sorry for the act that was played on you both. but it was nessesary to test you on the final and last trial. To see who could rise above the most darkest of despairs and offer up the people hope. I beg that you forgive me of this deceit.

To you, I have but these last and final wishes. The lineage that you now are entrusted to cary on. Do nothing that would bring dishonor or disgrace to the names that came before you. Mark well that victory over adversity is not always through strength of arms. Have faith and just cause with your fellow men. They are your greatest ally, weither you truly see this or not. You have given them hope, and they shall give you strength in return. Remeber this.

Most importantly; love. Love those that have waited for this day, for you, prayed and weathered the time for you. They are the people of this fair and noble kingdom. Without them, you are nothing more than a king of rock and earth and lifeless wood. An empty vessel with nothing fullfilling. And know that we, the kings that have come before you....we WILL be watching.

I have spent too long here. In this form my powers are limited. Samantha you must go to the crypt where you found my ring. Renew the tie, the bond, that lies between us. My remains lie there still. Take them and move them to a place close to you. So that when you have call for me, I can serve you as I should. For what it is worth, had things played so differently in the world that life did indeed exist in this empty shell, I would have loved you not only as my queen, but as my equal in all things. Until you find me, find what remains of me, I must rest and gather what strength lies in my broken and brittle bones. It is such a beautiful thing, this light that exists between the real and the everlasting. Such...such a beautiful light.

Trajon: Friends and distinguished guests, we have gathered here in the sight of all things good, to recognize the one that has been blesed by those that see his worth for what it is. I deem now, at the dawn of this day, that this is the beginning of a new age, an Age of Kings, an age that will give the people hope and a sense of purpose. A purpose to bring forth a new peace, a peace that will reach beyond the end of all things, even unto the end of eternity itself. I now recognize this spirit, this man, as King of Mithustorian and all of it's people that call it home. All hail, the new King!

Long live the King!!

Praxis and the lesser generals waited quielty in the small antechamber between their lord's bedchamber and the main hall. In time the Regent Medicant slips out the bedchambers, his suit covered in blood.

Praxis: Will he live?

Medicant: I do not know. His wounds are deep set. If he makes it past the night, it will be a miracle.

Praxis: Leave us.

Voice: Wake up. Wake up Kolath. Wake up.

Rah: Who speak to me?

Voice: The one that gave you such things to begin with. The one that showed you your destiny. Have you forgotten me so soon?

Rah: I'm dreaming again. You I know as the voice I heard now in my dreams so many years ago.

Voice: I am more than just a dream Kolath. I am very real to you. I have watched you for many years, fullfilling that which you were born to do. Harken to me! You must defy this prophecy or all things that you have fought for will be for naught. You must fight. You must deny Death this day. Defy it, and you defy the prophecy. Let it take you, and you are nothing more than the boy you once were. A nothing. Not even a speck in the legends of time. Fight it Kolath. Fight it. Kolath. Kolath Praxis: Lord Kolath? My lord? My Lord?

Praxis bows his head, this is as clsoe as he shall go to weep and show such pitiful emotions as sorrow. But he did know that the days of his former master was now at it's end. The Dark Lord has passed from this life to the other. He rises from his seat, intent on telling the other generals of what fate has taken from them.

Rah's arm shot up, gripping Praxis' forearm with such strength that the General though the man would break the very bone. Glancing down at the eyes that locked with his, he could see the fires of hate, the fires of vengence burn with renewed vigor.

Praxis: My lord....

And for the first tim in his life, ever. Praxis felt a surge of utmost fear.

Rah's laughter echoed across the room then, a hollow and cold sound, devoid of joy. This was a laughter of triumph, death has been denied. And so to, Rah knows, is the future of the prophecy. It is a laughter that fills the dark castle, echoes arcoss his lands, across space and time, into the infinite of all things, as a defiance of what a man's dark and sinster will is capable of.....................