Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable universe or Lionhead studios.

† Part 13 ≈ Saying Goodbye†

The sun began to set on the ocean blue horizon as the village of Oakfield mourned together for their loss. Several graves were fresh, as the bodies of the slain were laid to rest, in plain view of the beautiful golden sun and its breathtaking sunset. The town had come to mourn and to grieve, but also to celebrate. They did not only celebrate the planting of the Golden Oak, but more so they celebrated the lives of those that were lost. There was a wide range of sounds coming from them, ranging from quiet grief to bawling sorrow.

Hannah quietly knelt before her father's grave, now filled with dirt and reached forward with a heavy hand. She pushed away some of the dirt, making herself a small hole. She reached behind her and grasped the Golden Oak seed with both hands. With tired reverence, she slowly placed the seed in the hole and covered it with the dirt.

Behind her, Alexander stood tall and proud, a sullen look on his face, hands behind his back and feet spread apart in quiet relaxation. For the first time since he was ripped from the afterlife, he felt tired and he knew his eyes showed it, with dark rings and circles. His face looked blank but inside…

Beside Alexander, standing nearly a full head shorter, Roland stood carrying the lute in his hand. He had barely slept over the past few days, tossing and turning. The memories of that night continued to haunt him even while he slept. All the death and amongst it all, her face. Her face looking at him with an expression that evoked…well, he still wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about her. He had killed innocent people and yet…he felt not anger towards her, as he thought he should have. But he continued to see the faces of the dead and…

Roland gritted his teeth and angrily brushed the tears from his eyes. Alexander watched him with eyes full of pity and placed a reassuring hand on Roland's shoulder. Roland, trying to stop the tears from flowing, bit into his thumb.

With a grunt, Hannah lifted the giant jug filled with the blessed water from the Wellspring Cave. With little difficulty, she dropped to her knee and began to pour the water from the jug onto the grave. The monks surrounding her bowed their heads in reverence as the water flowed, with the townspeople doing the same. Hannah watched as the water flowed and was absorbed into the ground. Into her father's grave.

The jug empty, Hannah placed back on the ground and stared at her father's grave, now damp with the water.

"Hey, father," Hannah whispered. "I hope you're comfortable. In the ground or wherever you are now." She smiled weakly and bowed her head. Her next few words were filled with grim determination.

"I'm sorry, Father," Hannah whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry…I wasn't strong enough to break my vow. I'm sorry I didn't break it sooner. I know I didn't have the faith you wished I did. I never did fit in at this place. We both knew that. But I know to be a good person, you must keep a vow you make. So I'm making a new vow. One I intend to keep. Lucien will die for what he did to you. I won't break this one. I swear it."

Alexander blinked wearily as he listened to her speak.

Still so naïve, was all he could think.

"Sister Hannah," Timothy Lightjoy's soft voice made Hannah's head rise slightly. He bit his lip. "The Blessing." Hannah looked up at him and closed her eyes. She pushed herself back onto her feet.

"You do it," she said coldly as she turned away and gazed out towards the sea. Timothy sighed and turned towards the villagers. He stood tall for them as the new Abbott of the Temple of Light.

"Let us pray," Timothy said comfortingly. The crowd bowed their heads and clasped their hands together, following the monk's example. Roland merely bowed his head and Alexander did not respond. Timothy spoke softly, but his voice carried weight.

"As new life rises, so shall we. As the seed returns to the earth, so shall we all."

Silence fell upon the crowd as they listened to their words. Roland looked up and gripped his lute, newly bought to replace his old one.

"A long time ago, I overheard a song," Roland spoke up, voice cracking slightly. "It was apparently sung to those of noble birth who were slain. I won't pretend that I knew the Abbott. I'm still a newcomer here. But I did know, as I'm sure all of you are aware, that he had a noble spirit. With your permission, is it alright if I sing it now?"

"I have no objections if they do not," Timothy said with a soft smile, looking at the crowd. The crowd slowly shook their heads.

"Sing, bard!" one called.

"Alright," Roland gulped. "Keep in mind that this was sung a long time ago, so the language isn't…well, I have no idea what the words mean."

Roland hefted the lute up to his body and strummed a few notes. Then he cleared his voice and opened his mouth. From his mouth came a song for the slain with the lute accompanying it in perfect unison:

"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended
Giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende
On Albion þæt he ma no wære
His dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost.
Bealo... "

Roland's voice trailed off and he gulped again.

"Oh, Light, that was just awful," Roland muttered, lowering his head and pushing his hat over his eyes. "That doesn't do it justice, not by a long shot."

"Westu hál. Ferðu, Abbod, Ferðu." Alexander whispered. "That was beautiful, Roland."

Roland looked up and started in surprise. There were semblances of tears forming in Alexander's eyes as he gazed out towards the sea. He seemed out of breath as he tried to control his emotions from pouring forth. Roland could see that Alexander was thinking of his time in the past, of some nameless place in some half-remembered time. Roland wondered where he heard this song and, perhaps more importantly, what memory was so powerful that it brought the mighty Hero of Oakvale nearly to tears.

"Thanks, Roland," Hannah said over her shoulder. "It means a lot."

Roland forced a smile and turned slightly, gauging the audience. Some were in tears but he couldn't be sure if it was due to the funeral or due to his song. He did notice that some people were starting to smile a little. He decided to take credit for that.

Soon, the people began to trickle out and disperse. They all walked solemnly and silently towards the Sandgoose. Now that they had mourned the dead, they could now celebrate the life they had. They would begin to drink and shout, forgetting their cruel end, only remembering the time before. Remembering the times when they were truly happy.

Only Alexander and Roland remained by the grave, silently waiting for Hannah as she stared out at the setting sun, shining deep red across skies. The golden orb sank further beneath the distant waves. A flash of green and it disappeared, leaving only the stain of colors on the skies that would soon fade. All the while, Alexander waited for the inevitable from Hannah.

"Is that it!" Hannah screamed, spinning around, eyes red with tears. "After everything my father has done, we just toss him aside and forget about him?"

"You know that is not true, Hannah," Alexander replied calmly but sympathetically.

"What the hell do I know? I've never even left this bloody place!" Hannah stepped forward, eyes accusatory. "My father used to tell me that the world is a good place, filled with light. That our evil is only made out of fear, hate and jealousy. That if we rejected those negative emotions, then we could live to our fullest potential! He dedicated his life to that one philosophy and look what happened to him! It betrayed him! And now he's dead!"

"Your father was a noble man," Alexander told her. "He was dedicated to one truth. One ideal that defined his life. And in the end, he did not waver. He did not back down. He fought for that one ideal with his life. Was his sacrifice truly in vain? Or did this one ideal make him stronger than any sword?"

"Stop speaking in riddles!" Hannah screamed. "All I know is that my father is dead. Dead because of that bitch! Her gun was stronger than words or ideals. The fact that my father is dead is proof enough that passivity and peace doesn't work. If you have something worth protecting, you fightfor it! With every inch of your body and soul! You can't just let people walk over you!"

"Then what will you do?" Alexander asked. Hannah pressed her lips together as tears began to drip from her eyes. Roland turned away, unable to watch her agony. Alexander looked at her straight in her eyes.

"What can I do?" Hannah pleaded. "The Golden Oak is flourishing now. Everything my father worked for has come to pass. What can I possibly do now? I'm…so angry. I can't…I can't even think about what happens next. But life just keeps going on! What can I do! I don't…"

Hannah hung her head and began to weep, sniffling and sobbing. But she still stood on her feet. Alexander closed his eyes and breathed. Roland wiped his eyes.

"The other monks may believe that life continues to go on," Theresa spoke. "But you know differently, don't you?"

Hannah started as she heard Theresa's voice and spun around. Roland turned to look at her, surprised at her sudden appearance. Alexander regarded her with a blank face.

"Where…Where did you come from?" Hannah asked.

"Where I come from is not nearly as important as your next question," Theresa stated.

"Who are you?" Hannah asked.

"Someone who can tell you much about Sparrow," Theresa said. "And by association, Lucien, the true designer of your fate. Where they are. What their plans are."

Alexander turned his back on the conversation. He felt too angry to watch. Hannah was entranced instantly, however. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took a tentative but curious step forward.

"Which are?" Hannah asked.

"Before I can tell you, you must understand that there are greater forces at work here," Theresa said from beneath the cowl of her cloak. "Forces that have not revealed themselves. Yet. To them, your father and the monks here was nothing more than necessary casualties for their cause. They will not stop until they accomplish what they desire. You may come into this fight with the intent of revenge, but I need you to fight for the good of all of Albion. If you wish me to tell you about Lucien, you must be fully invested in the cause. That means that once you commit, there is no turning back. Those are my terms."

Alexander didn't need to look behind him to see that Hannah had already made up her mind.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Hannah said, eyes brimming with determination. "I will not let my Father die for nothing. I will avenge him even if it takes me my entire life. If you want me, I'm your girl. Just tell me everything you know."

"Then I will welcome your aid, Sister Hannah," Theresa said, bowing her head slightly. Hannah clenched her fists and tightened her jaw. Roland looked at her, knowing that he was witnessing something profound.

"Call me Hammer," she said. And Roland knew that Hannah had disappeared. Probably forever. The woman in front of him now was not the woman he met the previous day. It struck him then how an entire life can change after one night. After one bad night, a life can be destroyed while another life can be born. Hannah's life was destroyed last night. Hammer's life was born right in front of him. Sadly, he looked over at Alexander and wondered if he had a similar experience. What if all the great heroes in stories and legends also had one bad night? If they didn't, what kind of life would they be leading now, he wondered.

"Then the first thing you must do," Theresa said. "Is enjoy your last night in your home. Tomorrow morning we will be waiting at the Rookridge Road, by the carriages."

"What? We can't leave now?" Hammer asked.

"You will never return here," Theresa said simply. Hammer felt the shock of the statement seep into her bones. A cool breeze blew through her fiery red hair. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Some people do not get the chance to say good-bye," Alexander said simply. Hannah regarded his statement and sighed.

"I'll…start packing," Hammer said. She nodded and turned around. After a last moment by her father's grave, she turned and walked away, leaving Theresa, Roland and Alexander to ponder. Roland looked from Theresa to Alexander, sensing a tension of some kind. Her hood covered Theresa's head and Alexander was looking out after Hammer as she walked down the hill. The silence, however, was almost unbearable for some reason.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Theresa asked.

"Many things, sister," Alexander replied.

"You are angry," Theresa stated.

"You can see that, can you, seer?" Alexander snapped harshly.

"You are my brother," Theresa stated again. "I could always tell what you were thinking, even before my eyes were cut out. You are angry."

"I am," Alexander conceded flatly. "I am frustrated, furious, saddened and so much more. There is a hurricane of emotions raging in my mind that I need to put down before it gets out of hand. Why? Because I love you, sister. I love you with all my heart and I would never do anything to hurt you. I can never hate you. But I am afraid…that I cannot forgive you for what you have allowed to happen. I…I need time, sister. Time to…sort myself out."

Roland didn't know what they were talking about, but he knew better than to interfere. So he kept quiet and allowed them to talk, keeping his opinions to himself. Theresa turned her head towards Alexander's position and looked at him without eyes.

"Take all the time you need, brother," Theresa said finally.

"No," Alexander said. "I will give myself until tomorrow morning. If I had unlimited time, I would take forever. I will have until tomorrow morning."

"I believe," Theresa said after a moment's thought. "That there is an area that you might find…satisfying for your needs. Northeast of here. You can feel it, can you not?"

"My thoughts exactly, seer," Alexander sighed. "I will see you in the morning." Without a glance behind him, he stuck his hands in his pockets and began to walk down the hill, away from the grave and the acorn planted in the ground, the reminders of his supposed failure.

Roland watched Alexander stalk off down the hill with the setting sunlight beating down on his back. He scratched his beard and looked over at Theresa. Theresa had turned around and faced the ocean. Roland looked down sadly.

"Well…I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," Roland said awkwardly.

"You still wish to stay?" Theresa asked.

"I said I would stay and I will. Simple as that," Roland said. "I won't run, even…even after everything has happened."

"Then I will see you tomorrow," Theresa stated after a moment's pause. Roland nodded and turned around, hurrying after Alexander. Theresa stood at the edge of the cliff, staring at the ocean. Then, in a flash of light, she disappeared from the cliff, leaving only the grave with the newly planted acorn behind.

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Roland ran to catch up to Alexander, who was fast walking past the Sandgoose tavern. A few people called to the bard, asking for him to play more songs along with their drinking. Roland told them he would be by later, that he had to take care of some other business first. This was only partly true. In truth, he wanted to know what was going through Alexander's mind. Ever since last night, he seemed very upset. It was natural, after all, to feel upset about it. It was a terrible night for everyone. Alexander seemed to be taking it pretty hard, though. Roland just wanted to make sure he was all right.

It occurred to Roland that despite their time together, Roland didn't know a thing about the Hero of Oakvale. The only things he did know about Alexander came from the myths and legends that surrounded the man, and he knew all too well that not all stories are true. Did the Hero of Oakvale slay a rock troll with his bare hands? Did he really slay a dragon? Where did the truth start and the myth end? He didn't know. What he did know, however, was that he couldn't look at Alexander and think of him as a myth. He had to think of him as a man.

Roland finally caught up to Alexander but kept back by a few paces so as to give him the space he seemed to want desperately. They walked along the path with the sun setting on the horizon, giving the wheat and barley a last glimmer of gold before disappearing for the night. The green of the leaves became less and less vibrant as the moon revealed her face to the world.

"Do you know what a Demon Door is, bard?" Alexander asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Oh, um…well, Demon Doors are simply doors of stone that keep treasure behind them," Roland said. "The doors are alive and only open when something very specific happens, such as answering a riddle or performing a specific action."

"That is only scratching the surface, bard," Alexander said. "In truth, the original function of the Demon Door was to provide a safe haven from danger that was not, shall we say, in the same world."

"What do you mean?" Roland asked. Alexander opened his hand and within it, popped Arken's Crossbow.

"Just like how I have a space where I keep all my equipment, so to does the space behind the Demon Door," Alexander explained. "The space does not exist in this world, nor does it exist in the Void. The Demon Doors are, in essence, portals to these areas so naturally; they were kept as places where anyone could hide anything of value. But they were designed simply as places of refuge from the dangers of the world."

They turned a corner and Alexander faced the rock wall they had been following. Roland stood behind Alexander and followed his eyes. At first it was nothing more than a rock wall. Then, the wall began to move and churn as rocks began to move into their specific areas. Roland's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as the rock wall formed the image of a large, bearded face. With a loud yawn, the face opened its eyes.

"Who's there?" the Demon Door said in a deep voice. "I was dreaming about…oh, it's gone now. So what do you want?"

"Hello there, door," Alexander said with a smile. "Glad to see some things haven't changed."

"Who are you…" the Demon Door gasped as he saw who it was. "Lord Alexander! Why I thought you were dead!"

"I was," Alexander said. "But as you can see, I am quite well. And how are you?"

"Well, bored, to be honest," the Demon Door said. "No one has come here in, oh…a few hundred years, I guess. As such, your home is quite untouched. You should find it just the way you left it."

"Perfect," Alexander said with a smile.

"And might I say, what a pleasure it is to see you again after all this time, my lord," the Demon Door smiled. Then with a deep breath, he split in half, with the two halves sliding away from the split. Roland shielded his eyes as a bright light began to shine brightly through the split. As the doors opened, Roland began to see shimmering colors that swirled in a circular fashion.

"Just like old times, friend," Alexander said with a smile.

"Yes, you must remember to tell me all about where you have been all this time, my lord!" the Demon Door replied, his face split in half.

"Would not miss it," Alexander said. "Oh! Where are my manners? This is my good friend, Roland."

"Uh…hello," Roland said cautiously.

"A pleasure to see a new face," the Demon Door seemed to nod as he spoke. "Please remember to wipe your feet."

Alexander laughed and grabbed Roland. Before he could protest, Alexander shoved him into the light. Roland shrieked and closed his eyes, thinking that he would slam head first into…something. Maybe into a wall of light. Instead, he fell straight to the ground where he felt little fingers of grass tickle his cheek. Slowly, Roland opened his eyes and gazed around his surroundings.

Within the demon door, there was a darkening sky that mirrored the sky outside. The grass was lush and green with flowers dotting the hills. There was the sound of chirping birds and Roland looked up, seeing them fly off into the watercolor sky of painted purple and blue, the sun disappearing and giving rise to the pale white moon. He heard the sounds of a babbling pond nearby, and he noticed that there was water coming down from some unseen spring atop a rock wall. It emptied to a dark but clear pond that was filled with fish and wildlife.

"Peaceful, is it not?" Alexander asked as he walked past, his shoes crunching the grass. Roland stood up slowly and breathed in deeply. The air seemed so fresh inside the demon door, much fresher than the air outside. It was as if no one had even touched this place in a thousand years.

"I feel so…" Roland drifted off in awe.

"There is will here," Alexander said. "A very old kind of will. A very pure kind. Untouched by the Shadows beyond." Roland didn't know what he meant by 'the Shadows beyond' but he agreed with everything else Alexander had said. This place was by far the purest place he had been to. He felt like he could just lie on the grass and forget the world and its troubles.

"How is this possible?" Roland asked.

"The Demon Doors were made to be places of refuge," Alexander said simply. "They were meant to be peaceful. Out of all the Demon Doors I have opened, though, this is by far the most peaceful. One can truly find serenity here. Ah! The house is still here!"

Alexander jogged down the hill and towards the distant house, which had become lit with orange flame. Roland guessed that had something to do with magic as well, seeing as no one had been in here for perhaps 500 years. Smiling to himself, he ran after Alexander and entered through the door behind him.

The inside of the house was cool and quite attractive. With furniture that anyone of any standard could appreciate, the interior was decorated with soft colors that bounced off the wood, which looked as new as any young sapling. As soon as Roland stepped foot inside, he immediately felt at home, as if the air itself was kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear to simply stay.

"Careful, bard," Alexander said with a smile. "You may find yourself lost in this place until you can not leave."

Roland shook his head back awake.

"This place is dangerous!" Roland said, suddenly aware that he would have stayed for eternity if he wanted to.

"No," Alexander replied. His voice was quiet and distant. "Just peaceful. Battle-weary men who wish for peace find their wishes answered here. And men who have known only death may find something else here. Something they thought was only a distant fading dream not designed for men such as them. Or something they never new existed. Peace. Such a simple concept but almost impossible to achieve. Found right here. In a farmhouse."

Roland realized halfway through that Alexander was no longer talking to him. And more so, Alexander was describing himself.

"Did you find peace here?" Roland asked.

"I did," Alexander said. "Or, at least, I think I did. My memories are strange. Some of them say I found peace and died here with my wife. Others say I never found this place. It is impossible to keep track of them all."

"I can't imagine what that's like," Roland said. "To have so many memories in your head."

"No, you cannot," Alexander said simply, if a little coldly. "So many different choices in life lead to so many different outcomes. And all those outcomes are lodged in this one brain. Impossible to tell what kind of man I was 500 years ago. I may have been a saint who saved every person who was in trouble and paid my dues to the Temple of Avo. I may have been a monster who slaughtered people and sacrificed travelers to the Chapel of Skorm. How can I know?"

"Well, I guess it's not about who you were then, but you are now," Roland said, trying to be helpful.

"And how can I be anyone now when I do not know who I was then?" Alexander said looking at him. Roland realized, to his amazement, that his eyes were growing red, nearing the verge of tears. "I have no template, no basis. I am but a child in this new world, and it seems I must be taught again what is right and what is wrong. Otherwise, I care not what happens to this land."

"Alexander…" Roland whispered, unsure of how to react to this. Alexander turned away and stalked out of the building, pushing past Roland roughly. Roland stammered as he followed after Alexander.

Alexander walked towards the pond and stared into its clear waters. He gazed down and saw his reflection in the water. Roland ran up behind him but stopped a few feet back, giving him the room Alexander seemed to want.

"Bard," Alexander said loudly. "What do you see when you look at me?" Roland's mouth worked for a few moments, trying to think of what to say.

"Well," he began slowly. "I see…I see a great hero. A hero who accomplished many great deeds in his life. Deeds that may have been good or evil, but regardless, were great. Deeds that may have made him out to be a god, but that doesn't stop him. He does what he wants when he wants to. He's a hero who lives for freedom."

"Is that what you see?" Alexander asked.

"Of course," Roland said.

"That's not what I see," Alexander said.

"Then what do you see?" Roland asked.

"I see," Alexander began. "I see a man. I see a man who is tired, weary and broken. A man torn from his final sleep to fight someone else's battle. A man who was called as, a boy to fight an ancient evil because it had to be fought. Because there was no one else. And fight him I did. And defeat him, I did. My time was done. I died. Sure, my enemy had claim to my soul in the end. Because I was too weak to hold on to his. He grew stronger as I died, not the other way around. My soul may have been his to toy with for all eternity, but my time was done. My task was finished. Now, I am here to fight again. I am called to fight again. To fight some new evil that someone else should have fought. But because she did not, I am called to fight her battle. I have been called to do what I was born to do. And yet, I cannot. Because I am tired."

Alexander took a step into the pond, letting the water seep into his shoes. He walked into the middle of the lake where the water rose up to his waistline and covered his hands. Roland watched him and noticed then, that his shoulders were slumped. He saw then that from behind, Alexander looked as worn and tired as an old man nearing the end. A man weary and tired.

Alexander cracked his knuckles.

The pond exploded with energy as the water burst upwards and outwards, spreading out in every direction. The force knocked Roland straight to the ground with some unseen force and water. Blinking away the spots in his eyes, Roland pushed himself back onto his arms and looked up in awe. The water was now swirling and spinning around Alexander in a tornado, spraying outward while drawing everything inward. He watched as dirt, leaves, grass and trees began to be pulled inward, swirling with the water. And in the center of this storm, Alexander stood, veins glowing blue with Will.

"I am the Hero of Oakvale." Alexander's voice boomed with what sounded like a thousand roars. "My father was Brom the woodsman. My mother was Scarlet Robe, slayer of balverines. My sister is Theresa, the seer. I watched as my village was burned to the ground. I have been trained by the very best from the Heroes Guild. Trained in the ancient disciplines of strength, skill and will. At the height of my strength, I could wield a Master Greatsword in each hand, I could take a thousand arrows to the gut and still live, and I could shrug off blows to the face from Master Greathammers as if they were nothing but bee stings. At the height of my skill, I could stab a man a hundred times before they could draw their weapon, shoot the wings off gnat without killing it, and sneak past my enemies without them ever realizing I laid eyes on them. At the height of my will, I could control the very elements at my finger tips, summon the wrath of the gods or send my enemies souls down to the pits of Hell, slow the very fabric of time to a crawl; all before a bead of sweat traced my skin. As a young man, I killed a Wasp queen, braved the evils of Darkwood, and defeated Twinblade the Giant in single combat. As an adult, I slew the White Balverine that infested Witchwood, defeated all of my enemies in the Arena, I carved my way through the Undead in the Lychfield Graveyard, broke into the most heavily guarded prison in Albion, Bargate Prison and survived a year of its torture. As an old man, I activated the ancient Cullis gate to Hook Coast, defeated my former teacher, Maze the Wizard, defeated Jack of Blades once in single combat, summoned the Ship of the Drowned to the Northern Wastes, and a second time, in his true form, I destroyed Jack of Blades. I have traveled from one end of Albion to the other and always, I have survived. I have done tremendous things that men cannot even fathom."

Alexander's voice grew into a mighty shout towards the heavens.

"And I could not save one man!"

The shockwave reverberated within Roland's ears as tornado exploded, expelling water, dirt and foliage in all directions, crashing into the ground and into the house. Roland rolled back onto the ground and covered his head with his hands as the wind tore over him like a wave sweeping the earth. Soon, the roaring stopped and there was only silence. Roland peeked through his hands and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Looking around, he surveyed the destruction that he had wrought on the once beautiful land.

It looked like something had gone through and turned the ground upside down, leaving only dirt where once there was beautiful green, lush grass. The house had a tree sticking through it, destroying half of it. The pond was empty, save for Alexander, whose veins were growing dimmer, as if his life was draining from him. Roland gulped as he pushed himself back onto his feet.

"Do you know why I could not save him, bard?" Alexander said bitterly. "It was not because I was not fast enough, or strong enough. It is because I did not care to. I did not care to save him from death. I did not care to save him. His life and his death mean nothing to me, who has passed through both doors already."

Roland didn't know what to say. It was all too much for him. So many things were happening before his eyes and he couldn't fathom them all at once. He just didn't understand.

"You're…" Roland gulped. "You're still human. Despite everything that has happened and everything that you've gone through, you're still human. Past all the pomp and heroism, you're still human. What you're feeling is, I guess, a very human response."

"Is it?" Alexander asked quietly. "Heroes were created to protect Albion. We are the soldiers who defend this land from the Shadows of the Void. But we never truly reach our full potential until we die, the experience we have gained in life fueling our defensive walls. When we die, we become truly Archons. I may have been a hero when I lived, but when I died, I became an Archon. And the Archon's duty is written in stone. I have a duty now to protect this world. But now…now I realize that my duty as an Archon conflicts directly with my soul as a Hero. What I feel I must do conflicts with what I know I must do. And I am stuck in the middle."

Silence passed between the two of them. Roland bit his lip and twiddled his fingers around as Alexander simply stared out in front of himself. Finally, Roland spoke.

"I'm not that smart," Roland began. "So, what you just told me…I don't really understand a lot of it. Well, most of it. But it seems to me that you feel that your life doesn't have purpose anymore. Or you feel like you've lost your purpose. Or…maybe you just don't know what your purpose is anymore. This is a different time period for you, after all. It makes sense that, after 500 years, maybe your purpose has changed. In that case, the simplest answer would be to find your purpose again. I mean, you're here, aren't you? It's not your time, it's not your place but you're here regardless. I guess you should make do with what you got, right?"

"Just find my purpose, huh?" Alexander muttered.

"You say that you're conflicted between two extremes," Roland continued. "One is pulling one way and the other is pulling you the other way. I could be wrong but it seems to me that those two extremes aren't your own choices but choices forced upon you. That's what makes you angry. So, I say, don't choose either. Find something that you can choose for yourself. Because, well, a choice that is forced upon you isn't a choice, in my opinion. So, to find your purpose, you have to make the choice that makes most sense to you. Simple as that I guess."

Alexander said nothing for the longest time. Roland gulped and turned away.

"Sorry, I'll leave you alone now," Roland said simply. He quickly rushed to the glowing exit.

"Roland," Alexander called after him. Roland turned around and saw his face in the evening light. He was smiling warmly.

"Thank you." That was all he said. Roland nodded and smiled and walked out of the Demon Door.

When he left, Alexander turned around and walked back towards the house. As he walked, the grass began to grow again, the trees replanted themselves, the flowers bloomed and the water began to refill the pond. As he walked, the land around him began to fix itself, wiping away all evidence of his rage and torment, replacing it with the quiet dignity that once was. Peace returned and erased all signs of frustration.

Alexander sat in front of the fire in the now fixed farmhouse; hand on his chin and covering his mouth. And he sat there, thinking about what purpose he could find now. He sat there until the sun rose over the horizon.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Hammer sighed as she packed the things she felt she would need, a nightly breeze blowing through her open window. Mostly changes of clothes and so on. She was barely aware of what she was packing, however. Her mind drifted around aimlessly, still reeling from the past events. Her father was dead. She would never see him smile, hear his laughter, feel the warmth in his hand. It was strange to her knowing that someone that has such a huge impact on her life will never be there again. It felt just like a gaping hole had opened up in her life that could not be filled by anything. The only thing she could do was to simply learn to live with it.

She stopped between putting a clean shirt in her pack, holding it still in her hand for a moment. She felt the soft silk of the shirt rubbing between her fingers. Slowly, the shirt slipped out her fingers and fell softly to the wooden ground. She shuddered as a bubble of pure dread and sadness welled up from within her heart. Hannah put a hand to her mouth as tears unwillingly began to form in her eyes, blearing her vision momentarily. Her sobs came in short, controlled bursts as her feelings began to slide up from her heart. Steadying herself, she placed her hand on the bed, trying to keep herself from falling to her knees. She wasn't Hannah any longer. She was Hammer. Hammer is not supposed to fall.

Hammer breathed sharply several times, trying to control her emotions. Slapping her cheeks several times, she began to wipe the tears from her eyes. She couldn't afford this. She needed to stay calm and collected. By morning, she would be leaving this life behind and starting again.

When she left by morning…

It then dawned on her that when she left in the morning, she would be leaving the only home she had ever known. By morning, another hole would be opened. Another familiar presence lost. Just like her father. Gone and, according to this 'Theresa,' she would never return. What did she mean by that?

Sighing, she walked to the open window, brushing the wetness from her eyes. As she stood there, gazing at the moon, she took a deep breath of the Oakfield air. She would probably never breathe it again. She wanted to savor it. To savor the feeling of the air as it kissed against her cheeks. She wanted to savor the feeling of familiarity that resonated with her heart. She doubted she would ever feel anything like it for a long time.

Hammer opened her eyes and they fell to a lone figure walking around the bend out of the forest. Hammer squinted and realized who it was.

"Roland!" Hammer called. She waved her hand, trying to catch his attention. Roland stopped in his tracks and looked around, wondering who was calling his name. Seeing movement, he squinted his eyes.

"Hannah?" Roland called back.

"It's is," Hammer replied. "Where're you off to?"

"The Sandgoose," Roland said. "The people are drinking and…well, they need me to tell tales and sing songs of…happier times."

"You don't have to, you know," Hammer told him.

"I am a bard," Roland said. "It's what we do." Hammer smiled and nodded.

"Where's Alexander?" Hammer asked.

"He's…" Roland hesitated. "He's taking some time to himself. He…he took the death of your father rather hard. He blames himself for…a lot of things, actually.

Hammer blinked in surprise. She didn't know that Alexander was actually blaming himself for…well, anything. It was quite touching for her to know that someone else seemed to care for her father just as she had.

"It seems I'm not alone," Hammer whispered to herself.

"I'm sorry?" Roland called.

"Nothing," Hammer replied. Roland nodded and looked between her and the Sandgoose.

"Why don't you come to the Sandgoose with me?" Roland asked.

"I shouldn't, I…I still have things to pack," Hammer said.

"That can wait, I'm sure," Roland said. "You can come in for a few hours, just to say hello to everyone and then leave. Besides, it looks like you shouldn't be alone right now."

It suddenly occurred to her that tears were running down her face. Embarrassed, Hammer hurriedly brushed her hands across her face, drying her eyes. She took several deep breaths before saying:

"Okay. I'll be down in a minute."

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The interior of the Sandgoose was the epitome of comfort, with its wooden and firelight-lit interior. When Roland entered, he immediately felt comfortable, which was remarkable given his shy attitude. The level of comfort wasn't as high as when he was inside the demon door, but he could still be comfortable here. As a bard, he was at home with the loud din of patrons and the smell of alcohol.

"It's the bard!" "Play us a song!" "Song!" They all called for his songs and the escape he brought with it. Roland smiled and took out his lute, prepared for a song.

Hammer smiled as she made her way to the bar. The bartender gave her a friendly nod and placed a mug of ale on the counter.

"All drinks for you are on the house, lass," the bartender told her. Hammer smiled warmly and drank deeply. She gazed around the Sandgoose and picked out faces in the crowd. These were the faces of people she had become familiar with. The faces she had grown up with. And soon, she would probably never see them again.

"Now, before I begin," Roland called out to the patrons of the bar and stepped on top of a nearby table. Feeling rather impulsive, he grabbed a nearby mug of ale from a patron and held it up high. "I would like to propose a toast."

There were more cheers as mugs were raised into the air up high.

"As you all know, a man died yesterday," Roland began, suddenly finding a courage he hadn't known he had before. "The Abbot of the Temple of Light. A man who dedicated him life to spreading Light to every dark corner of the world. Now, I can't say I knew him well. I only met him recently. But you all knew him in some way. I'm sure he touched all of your lives in some fashion. And I dare each and every one of you to even try to think of something bad to say about him."

And it was true. Every patron and every citizen of Oakfield had only warm memories of the Abbot. And as Roland spoke, they all remembered the times they shared with the Abbot. They remembered the times they were injured and the Abbot would stay up all night healing them. They remembered how he would help move crates from the harbor to the local shops. They remembered how when their kids were hurt from running the fields, he would smile and patch them. They all remembered his smile, the smile that seemed to light up the room. They remembered the light that surrounded him.

Hammer leaned against the bar, mug in her hand, condensation dripping down to the floor. She stood in awe of what she saw around her. She could see it all on their faces. They were making the same face she knew she had been making hours earlier. The face of something they had lost. And at that moment, she knew that they all had felt a similar void in their souls. Just like her, they all had a void in their hearts. It then occurred to her that a death doesn't only affect the person. It affects the world.

Someone was there one minute. And the next minute, that person was gone from the world forever. That's what death was. And no matter how close or far away they were from the person who died, everyone feels it, even if it's only a fleeting moment.

I'm such an idiot, Hannah thought to herself. I'm not the only one feeling this way, am I? She smiled.

"So!" Roland proclaimed, holding his mug high above him. "Here's to the Abbot! May the light he left behind never go out!"

The tavern cheered and raised their drinks in the air. And with one motion, they drank deeply in remembrance. Hammer smiled and stood up from the bar.

"If I can have a moment!" she called to the crowd, standing tall. Soon, the tavern silenced and all had her undivided attention. She looked at all of them slowly, recognizing every face in the room. "Thank you. Thank you all for all the love and support you have shown me. This time has been very hard. But, you all have made it a little easier."

Everyone in the bar smiled and nodded at her words, understanding them at their heart. Hannah was never a good speaker. She was always more likely to beat you to a pulp than converse with you. But tonight, she let the words flow through her. These came from her heart and from her soul. And now, she needed to be honest.

"But tomorrow morning, I will leave Oakfield," she said simply. The silence was deafening for her, but she kept on going. "I was never a good sister for the temple. I liked fighting too much to be one. And…with my father dead…well, I don't think I can stay here anymore. I'm sorry. I've made my decision."

Silence followed afterwards as her words sunk into the crowd. Hannah didn't know how they would take the news. So she waited for them to speak next.

"About bloody time!" a drunken man roared. Hannah looked up surprised. It was Eric, one of the dockworkers. "Well, don't take it the wrong way, Hannah. We care about you. You've always done right by us. But seriously, we always knew that eventually you'd leave. You don't really have the temperament to be a Sister or a farmer."

"What Eric is trying to say, Hannah," said Louise, Eric's wife. "Is that we've always known that Oakfield was no place for a girl like you. You're too energetic. Too…"

"Volatile," Eric chimed in. Louise smacked him across the back of his head harshly.

"The point is, we all knew that you would leave one day," Louise continued. "You don't cage a bird because you think the way it flies is beautiful."

"There you go spouting your one-liners, again, Louise," called Mary, one who worked at the watermill. "Can't just say what you really want to say. Gotta act all smart and stuff."

"But its true, Mary and you bloody well know it, you stupid hag!" Louise shot back.

"Who're you calling a hag, you fat wench!" Mary shouted back. Soon, their respective husbands had to pull them off each other before they did any real damage to each other. Hannah, on the other hand, stood dumbfounded by all this.

"You mean," Hannah said. "You don't have a problem with me leaving?"

"Why would we?" called David, a woodcutter. "You're a big girl. You can make your own decisions. If you want to leave and travel the world or whatever, we'll support you. Thought you would've known that by now!"

"Just know that if you ever want to come back to Oakfield," Karen, a housewife, said. "You'll always be welcomed. We'll even look after your place for you while you gone, just in case you come back."

Hannah stood there, staring at everyone's smiling and warm faces. Her eyes blurred as tears began to fall from them. She smiled weakly.

"Thank you," Hannah said, lowering her gaze and wiping her eyes. Then she looked up again and proclaimed: "Thank you all for wall you've done for me!"

"Hammer, are you crying!" Roland teased jokingly. His reply was Hammer's mug crashing straight into his face.

"I've got something in both my eyes, bard!" Hammer yelled. Roland flew off the table and landed on the ground with a thump. The tavern roared with laughter. Hammer herself was laughing as well.

Coughing as he stood, he wiped the ale and mug shards off his face and chuckled. Then, picking up his lute, he took a deep breath. He then began to play a tune, letting his fingers play through the strings, pouring his heart out. This was his happiness. It was his way of spreading laughter to the world.

The bar began to clap and laugh as the tune picked up speed. Some even began to form words to the tune, allowing them to create a brand new song. It didn't make much sense, what with the amount of alcohol they had consumed, but in the end it didn't have to. They were singing from their hearts so it didn't matter. Hammer joined in the fray, allowing herself to sing along, allowing her heart to be poured out. Despite the sadness, they could still find some happiness within the darkness. And she found it alongside them.

Tonight, no one was alone.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The morning sun rose over the horizon. On the Rookridge Road, Theresa stood silently; blind to all but the warmth the sun gave as it rose. Time would move on, regardless of those that would wish otherwise.

"Morning, sister," Alexander said quietly as he walked up the hill. As he did, he carried a stone hammer across his shoulders.

"Good morning, brother," Theresa answered. Alexander stood beside Theresa and then sat himself down on the ground. "Have you found your answer?"

"No," Alexander said. "Though I did receive some…unexpected guidance. Still, I could not afford to sit still till I found my answer. So I guess I will have to find it as I fight Lucien."

"I guess you will," Theresa said simply. She stood in silence for a while. Alexander allowed the breeze to brush past his face.

"I have one question, sister," Alexander said. "What is Scythe planning? You said so yourself. He will uphold neutrality. Which means he will not take part in any of this. Yet he wanted to help you beat me to a pulp. If he was neutral, I doubt he would have helped you. Why did he?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know myself," Theresa shrugged. "I was quite surprised when he agreed to aid me, despite his animosity towards you."

"So he just wanted to kill me for giggles," Alexander sighed. "Brilliant."

"He wasn't being serious when he was fighting you," Theresa said. "You know that. If he was, you would most assuredly be dead."

"Yes, that is what makes me angry," Alexander said. "He does not consider me a threat worth taking seriously. But still, he clearly has an interest in this Lucien affair. Why not just save us the trouble and kill Lucien for us?"

"Scythe has always done things his own way," Theresa said. "I've never been able to see what his plans were. He's hidden from my foresight. But, if I had to guess, he still has some use of Lucien being alive."

"You cannot see what his plans are?" Alexander asked.

"No," Theresa said. "Technically, he no longer travels along the same paths of time that we do. Since time is frozen for him, I guess he can no longer create a future. With no future, I can't see what he might do next."

"He is a corpse after all," Alexander stated.

"Maybe," Theresa said. "In any case, I think he may want Lucien to live for a little while more. He seems interested in Lucien or someone close to him. I can't say for sure."

"He always has acted on his own," Alexander muttered. He gazed down the road and then stood up. "Your Hero of Strength arrives."

As he spoke, Hammer walked up the hill with a bag over one shoulder and Roland hung over her other shoulder. She stood tall and proud, facing the rising sun. As she approached Theresa and Alexander, she dropped Roland on the ground, who groaned.

"Too much to drink last night?" Alexander asked.

"That and two of the serving ladies wouldn't stop having their way with him all night," Hammer said.

"They just wanted more!" Roland wailed. "I thought my manhood would shrivel and fall off! It was horrible!"

"You should be proud, bard!" Alexander exclaimed. "Rolling around in bed with two ladies? No man could dream of anything better!"

"But they wouldn't stop! There was no satisfying them!" Roland complained. "It was just too confusing! Should I pay more attention to one girl or to the other girl? But if I pay too much attention to one the other girl will get angry and hit me? Are all women this crazy? I can't take it anymore!"

Hammer chuckled as she remembered pulling the two women off of the poor bard. Alexander smiled and deftly pulled the stone hammer at his side and held it out for Hammer to hold. Hammer looked at it and recognized it as the hammer she pulled from the statue in the temple room. With determination, she took the hammer with both hands and gripped it tightly.

"Good morning, Hammer," Alexander said simply.

"Good morning, Alexander," Hammer said. "You're not just a wandering mercenary, are you?" Alexander winked but said no more.

"Have you done everything you wanted to?" Theresa asked. Hammer turned and gazed at Oakfield one last time before turning back.

"Let's go find Lucien," Hammer said with determination.

"Then take my hand," Theresa said, holding out her hand. Hammer took it while Alexander took Theresa by the shoulder. Theresa looked over at the weakened Roland and held out her foot. Roland weakly gripped it.

"Can we get some water when we return?" Roland asked.

There was no answer as they disappeared in a flash of light. No living thing saw them leave. However, the evil stone face etched into the rock wall was not a living thing. It had a curved stone beard and long knife-like ears. Its eyes glowed with a menacing white light as it smiled and melted back into the wall of rock.

Sorry. Sorry.

Didn't mean to take that long. College kept getting in the way. It was pretty hectic this year. Can't promise it won't happen again, but at least you got something to hold you over till next time.

I have not given up on this project. I wouldn't dream of it. It's just that sometimes I just don't feel like writing fanfiction. I want to write something of my own creation, not just borrowing from someone else. But don't you even think for one second that I'll leave this story unfinished. Because I won't. I started it. I'll end it. It's that simple. So you can expect an ending. Maybe when I'm fifty or whatever. (I'm joking. Hopefully.)

Anyways, only thing to note is that Roland sings in Old English in this chapter. If you watch the Extended Cut of The Two Towers, there's a funeral scene. During the funeral, Eówyn sings the same song, though I may have changed some of the words to fit the situation. Translation is below. Alexander also says a line from The Two Towers. I'll leave you to guess who says the line. You'll get a cookie if you guess right.

Also, to Nate-Mihael, the last conversation between Theresa and Alexander was response to a question you asked. Hopefully, I answered it a little bit. Seriously people, if you're confused let me know and I'll clear it up in the following chapters. Your reviews never hinder this work. It only makes it better.

Till next time.

"An evil death has set forth the noble warrior
A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels
in Albion that he is no more,
to his lord dearest and kinsmen most beloved.
An evil death..."

Be-thou well. Go-thou, Abbot, go-thou.