Miguel and Luce were up and ready to go by the fade of midnight. To Nadier, the pair seemed eager to return to Valent, both their faces showing the outlines of a reluctance to spend unneeded time outside of the comforts of settlements. From what the dark elf knew of their stories, he was not surprised that they'd prefer to journey as little as necessary. They must have had enough adventures for their lifetime.

He asked Luce before she left, “Are you sure about this?”

The Titan Ranger replied, “The plan? No. Not sure at all. There's too little room for error, and not enough people to fix them.” She re-tightened her scarf and pulled her long golden-brown hair out from behind.

Nadier crossed his arms in query. “And you are empathic of that?”

“No,” she replied straightforwardly, doing a quick check on the sling of her rifle. “But you heard our options. None of them are particularly good in terms of casualty counts and wiggle room. As mad as this one goes though, at least no one dies.”

Nadier nodded understandingly. “You know that there's no need for you to stay.”

“Have you ever fought Titans?” she quickly asked, to which he replied with a gentle shake of his head. Luce continued, “They are sentient, but don't know they are sentient. These are beings made for being controlled, but have the capacity for individuality.”

He theorized, “If they realize they are alive, it's likely they can become dangerous beings of destruction.”

“Or they could evolve, become something more. The next breed of life.” She looked over his shoulder at The Watcher who sat next to the campfire, engrossed in the Black Tome of information. “That man is terrifying. I think he saw through me. “Nobody dies,” he said.”

“Do you think that meant the Titans as well?” Nadier asked.

“Why else would he come up with such an insane plan? There are much better ways to gain trust. Much better ways to take down golems and infiltrate Everwind.”

The two silently contemplated The Watcher, observing him from their distance as the flame flickered shadows of age across the man's face. A circle of dirt from melted snow laid an arena around him, fluffs of white ground away from the heat sparsely spreading. A soft snowfall dotted the air.

Miguel, having packed, walked towards them. “Ready to go?” the Enhancer asked.

“Sure.” Luce replied. She turned to Nadier. “Make sure Adelaide doesn't die.”

“I don't need you to tell me that,” he replied matter-of-factly. He handed her a sealed letter as instructed by The Watcher. He continued, “But why are you so interested in her?”

Luce merely let out a breath of a laugh before turning away with Miguel. The two travellers walked into the forest of darkness. Since Miguel was a hume, his night-vision would guide their way back. Nadier watched them walk further and further until they disappeared behind rows of staggered trees. The dark elf turned and headed back to the camp.

As he stepped in the warmth of the fire, he announced to the time traveller, “They've left.”

The Watcher looked up from his book. “Who?” His question was so fuelled with honest confusion that it managed to annoy even Nadier.

He bit back slightly. “Who else? Miguel and Luce.”

“Ah, yes. The smart guy and sad girl.”

“Sad girl?”

The Watcher closed his book and tucked the tome away under his coat. His tone dropped, “There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Nadier stopped in his tracks. He was making his way to Adelaide's cave of a home, but if the dark elf had learned anything the past few days with The Watcher was to always listen at the lowering of a pitch. He stood half-turned, the flame's warmth heating up the left of his cheek.

The Watcher continued, “This plan. Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am,” Nadier replied without skipping a beat.

The Watcher explained, “I'm going to assume you understand what we're trying to do is as close to a genocide as we can get.” Nadier kept silent. He stared at Watcher with an unreadable expression. The Watcher decided to continue, “Even if they somehow manage to escape the trap, the moment we destroy the aeronium gate, the dark elves can never see the light of day again.”

Nadier took over the exposition. “They'll be able to travel within the reach of the mountains, not a single step more. Yes, I have thought of it. As I comprehend, I will be the last of the dark elves.”

“And you are okay with that?”

“It is as the Ha'Lof's prophecy states. I will represent dark elves in the coming age.”

“That's a singular term.”

“I know.”

They continued to lock eyes, stares filled with their own kind of convictions.

The Watcher told him, “If you are smart, and wise, and bullheaded, and really lucky, you can change prophecies. I've seen it happen. End of the world stopped by sheer stubbornness.”

Nadier contemplated silently, staring down to his feet. He then started, “My brother tried to show me something. Something about this world of the light. I'm not sure what it was, but I want to try to protect it until the day I can find out. This is the path I've decided.”

Nodding in understanding, The Watcher returned his focus to his tome. Without looking up, he told Nadier, “Honestly, being the last of your kind is not as great as it seems. I thought I'd finally get some alone time, but our lives are just too long to be unaccompanied for such a length. But at least you won't be the only one who is the last of their kind.” The man went silent, his gaze sifting back and forth between the pages of his book.

Nadier knew what he meant. Both Adelaide and The Watcher were the last of their kinds, even if Adelle did not know it yet. The last sentinel, and the last... whatever The Watcher was. A hymn? He thought he remembered the man mention it. Soon, Nadier himself will become the last of the dark elves. He made his way into the cave.

Over the time they had travelled, the fruits Adelle had gathered had gone bad. A strong scent of citrus filled the cold air even without the bowl of fruits left at the table to emit the smell. The green-haired elf sat at the back of the room before her chest of belongings, obliviously packing and planning on what to bring with her. Littered around her were her axes, her great white grey fur coat, a couple of spare clothes, and a small leather pack that was half filled.

She voiced out, “I thought I'd have more stuff than this.”

“Why?” he asked. She had apparently heard him coming in. Elven hearing. He found them terrifying, despite being one himself.

“I've been living here for over a hundred years.”

“You've never done much outside. You lived off your hunt, and you got through day-to-day with a simple fire.” He walked forward, looking over her shoulder and into her chest. Only one last thing was left within. “Spiralé.”

“I told you, that's a ridiculous name for a bow.”

“I made it, so I get to name it,” Nadier replied. “Are you going to take it?”

“I'm thinking,” she answered. “You know how I don't really like to use bows.”

He sarcastically let out, “Yes, yes, you like your axes. You're a great axe wielder.” He placed a brotherly hand on the fluff of her head. “But where we're going, we don't need greats. We need the absolute best.”

***

Flickering beats of flame shone out over the pages of the Black Tome. The Watcher continued to pour through the information, doing his best to remember all that he can. He knew what others thought of him. A mad man. A genius. A child. A savant. In truth, he was perhaps just two of those things. Aside from his powers to control time, he did not possess any abilities other humans possessed. He wasn't good at sports; had no talent in studying; no extraordinary memories, or possessed any greater understanding of the workings of the universe.

But he had time.

Hundreds of years of time to learn. And he had experienced a lot. The internet was really helpful for a period.

He spoke aloud, “I still don't quite know why you are here. Why now? Why not a few days earlier when the pain was more raw?”

The figure of Kathleen Ambershey, ember eyed, blonde haired, all down to the details of her freckles and maroon lips and dressed in a plain brown dress sat beside him.

Kathleen replied, “Maybe it's because you're in a war now. You have issues with wars, after all.”

“I never told you about my war experience,” The Watcher noted.

“That's why I'm a hallucination,” she smiled at him, stretching her non-existent legs towards the fire. “I don't need you to tell me anything. I am just a figment of your brain.”

“Right...” he let out a sigh. “Why is it even the part of me that's insane is still smart?”

The silence replied him, the hallucination gone. The flames of the camp fire cracked and popped. His eyes no longer focused on the book in his hands.