Interlude - The End of Magic

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Year 917 of the Nhemerian-Mael Duin war. 

The world is in its death throes. I can feel it. Just a little bit more, a few more centuries, a couple of millennia, and it will all be over.


My predictions were wrong. I remember discussing the end of the world with my brother. We both held that it would be a creeping thing. A slow dimming, a quiet fading, a gentle dying. Something that would happen while our sights were elsewhere. We, the final living beings, would continue in a world that had ended, unaware until it slowly, very slowly, dawned on us that we were alone. And then our choice would be simple – for what breach of logic allows for life in a world that has breathed its last?

But we were expecting too much from life. There had been no indication of the existence of justice, and somehow we thought it would make up for its absence by appearing at the end.

Justice. My calling, my whole existence. Look where it got me.

But who am I, who is it that's neglected an introduction? Call me your unwilling narrator, for now basking in the light of anonymity. Call me the only possible narrator, and believe my promise that I will hide nothing from you.

Nevertheless, I won't give it to you all at once. You have to understand. After all, if I told you how it ends, you might feel it's all pointless. If I told you everything at once, you might despair.

Luckily, there are many endings to choose from before the actual end.

Take for instance the end of magic. Yes, that was him as well.

Yes, why don't we start with that?

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