Where the tales of the black feathered man ended, the true story began. When the slain man awoke once more, he found himself before a council of four.

Four seats of shears monstrosity awaited before him, though one of was empty. The three that remained gazed on. One giant seemed pale, white and skinny, dressed in all black with eyes of liquid silver. The second giant proved steadfast and burly, shimmering and bronze and covered in fine silver plate. The last of the three was fat and golden, a head always smiling, a chest bare but emboldened.

The white one spoke first, “A second chance we offer you, but in the form that only one of us will decide.”

“I will listen to your offers and with one I shall abide.” Agreed the black feathered man.

The white one spoke again, “I offer you a place where you must want all the world.”

“I refuse.” Stated the black feathered man.

The gold one second, “I offer you a place where the world must want you.”

“I refuse.” Repeated the black feathered man.

Finally, the bronze giant spoke up, “I offer you a place where you must defend another.”

“Is this another whom I should love?” asked the black feathered man.

The bronze giant lowered its massive head till its beady brown eyes met the black feathered’s red, “The one you must defend will be your king.”

“My ruler? My chief? Or is it a symbolic thing?”

“Decide.” Roared the bronze one abruptly, “Or be stuck in damnation for all eternity.”

The black feathered man shuffled and walked, all around him a peculiar darkness stalked.

“Have I died?”

“Decide.”

The black feathered man halted then quite quickly. He knew his options, yet each one seemed prickly.

“I choose to defend.”