Garinor looked down at the blue light that encased Tomli’s skeleton. It was so farfetched he could possibly exchange his soul with Tomli’s, who had no body to come back to. It didn’t make sense to him. He felt the scepter was trying to trick him into giving up his soul without a fight. And so he declined.
“No,” he said softly. “I will not surrender my soul.”
“Very well, Chosen One.” Those were the last words the Voice uttered. Shards of obsidian inside the scepter glittered suddenly, though it was hard to see against the black gems. A circle of dark light exploded from the scepter and reached outward to the walls, passing through them, and extending onward. Garinor couldn’t know for certain, but he believed the black light was reaching out across the land and spreading the news of what had transpired here in the cave. The cold cavern took on an added chill and Garinor felt the scepter start to shudder.
After an unknown amount of time, the shaking of the scepter grew more vibrant. Garinor’s arm and body trembled in resonance and then all at once the scepter burst into shards of dust. With it went all the light in the cave, except that of the torch still propped in the prince’s hand.
Garinor’s eyes were drawn toward the prince then. The man blinked and shook his head as if he were waking from a strangely realistic dream. He peered around and saw that the scepter was gone but the boy was alive.
“How is this possible?” he hissed. The cold air carried his voice without the muffled quality it had before.
Not only had proper sound returned to the chamber, but so too did Garinor’s pain. The dagger wound in his shoulder burned as if it was on fire. He clutched it with his free hand and fell to his knees, trying to reclaim control of himself before the prince acted.
The prince was still stunned and didn’t notice Garinor for a moment. “But if you live,” he started, “then that other boy… I see. He was the heir to the throne.” A wide grin stretched across his face. “Good. No more time needs wasting now. The scepter is gone, the prophecy fulfilled.”
Garinor pushed himself up. “No. You still have me to deal with.” His lip curled in a snarl and he glared at the prince with total hatred. “You will not leave this cave.”
The prince laughed and waved the dagger about. “And what are you going to do about it, sing me to death?” He chortled with his taunt and clutched the dagger meaningfully. “If you have any hope of living, you had better calm yourself and leave off your threats.”
“My best friend would have ruled this land. But you killed him by making him take the scepter. For that, you will pay.” He waited for the prince to offer his predictable laughter and that was when he pounced.
Garinor rushed forward and plowed his good shoulder into the prince, knocking him over. The torch and the dagger fell, but Garinor did not pursue them. His shoulder wound ripped open wider but he denied the pain. His only need at that moment was to stop the prince’s tyranny. He clasped his free hand about the prince’s throat and threw all his weight into his hand.
The prince was taken completely by surprise but he fought back with rage. His arms pummeled into Garinor but the boy only tightened his grip, chanting, “Tomli died because of you,” over and over, tears falling from his eyes.
The prince had only one recourse. Desperately, he dug his hand into Garinor’s shoulder wound. The resulting cry was bestial in its intensity and the sound of it carried all the way through the cave and to the guards outside, who jumped at the noise.
But Garinor did not relent. His fingers dug into the prince’s neck and as the torch sputtered on the ground, so too did life sputter out of the prince. At long last, his breath no longer came and he was dead.
Garinor couldn’t see. The pain in his shoulder was ferocious, and blood seeped from the agitated wound. He lost consciousness soon after he slew the prince. It was a deep and contented sort of sleep where he knew he had exacted a sort of justice that only he could have done.
It was also the last sleep Garinor ever had. The deep wound was too great and as his lifeblood seeped out of him, he remembered his last glimpse of Tomli reaching out toward the scepter, then fading into a skeleton on the ground.
To think, his noble friend, who had protected him so many times, had truly been the heir to the kingdom. Garinor’s last thought was of a world in which men like Tomli reigned supreme, where fairness and justice were the common themes of life and not a random whim of a manor lord. He wanted nothing more than to live in that sort of world.
Holding on to those thoughts, Garinor’s consciousness finally faded away forever.
The kingdom was left without the firstborn son or the true heir, and so the king’s second son took reign. He was a better ruler than his older brother would have been, but still the people were taxed beyond their means. Wars took place where the people tried taking back their power, but they were always unsuccessful.
Garinor’s father, Terrian, was found dead in the Daggerfist camp, having been overwhelmed by the prince’s men. No word ever reached Paligar, and so Luinna was unaware of the actual fates of her husband and son. She sat often in the garden and stared up at the sky, crying in earnest, begging for answers.
But answers didn’t come for her as the years went on and her other children struggled in a world that simply didn’t have the joy it could have had.
All that set Garinor’s soul to rest was that he had died at Tomli’s side and the prince had never taken rule of the kingdom. In that fateful cave, the prophecy had come to an end.
You have come to the end of Garinor’s adventure, but there are other paths to explore. Start over and guide Garinor again along his journey.
The End…