WARNING: Major Spoilers for Fable 2. Do not continue if you have not finished and still intend to.

"Do you consider that a victory?" Lucien panted, as he dragged himself to his feet, holding his side from the sudden leeching of all his power. His eyes still blazed a luminous white from the lingering magic in his veins, the stolen energies that he had tried to rob from the blood of the woman who stood before him. "You are merely delaying the inevitable."

Avenger made no move as the villain struggled to stay upright, her pistol rigidly trained on an invisible target between Lord of the Spire's eyes. Before her was a madman, one who she'd sought her entire life for retribution to the things she'd loved. Originally, the death tally was but her only sister, but less than a day before, he had stolen much, much more from her.

The madman took her silence as an opening, and continued to launch his verbal assault. "All that you've struggled for will be crushed under the majesty of the Spire." He iterated, feeling his sapped strength returning slowly. Finally able to stand, he took a grandiose posture, still sneering as the hero kept her pistol lined up with his head like a target in the Westcliff Shooting Gallery. "Why? Why must you interfere?"

The pistol faltered, and the widow dropped her arm. Vengeance was at last within her grasp, but she could not conceive the necessary hatred to execute a defenseless man. Not even Lucien. As he continued to work himself up into a self-righteous frenzy, she just stood and watched, her scarlet, glowing, and empty eyesockets unable to reveal the sudden bout of pity she felt for the old man.

As Fairfax wound down from his zealotrous defense of his actions, he instead switched to cold oaths. "The New Kingdom will have no place for Fate or Chaos… Or He-"

A single gunshot echoed around the interior tower, and Lucien stumbled back with a bullet in his side. Avenger had no time to react as he quickly tripped to the end of the small, raised dais, and with one last yell he plummeted into the blackness below.

Reaver blew a bit of smoke off from his Dragonstomper .48 before reholstering it. "Oh, I thought he'd never shut up." The Hero of Skill turned to the Fourth, blinking a bit at the old woman whom he'd stolen both her youth and beauty in his perpetual quest to maintain his. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to kill him?"

Once more, Avenger felt anger boil in her gut. Her thoughts of pity evaporated, as she realized now that, truly, revenge was forever beyond the hero's reach. While Lucien had taken her family, Reaver had taken his own share of things. His "little errand" had unknowingly lead her to sacrifice someone's unspent years so he could cash in on them. Rather than letting the Shadow Court steal a young girl's though, she had kept the seal and forfeited her own instead. The Judges were merciless when they had drained her vivi-essence, leaving Avenger with grayed hair, liver spots, and fiery holes where there once were eyes. And now, he had taken her chance to fulfill her namesake, though the fourth hero still questioned if she would have actually taken Lucien's life.

But also once more, Purity and Goodness guided her hand from wrath. Without warning, she suddenly collapsed upon the cold, stone walkway, and wept. Wept as the grief for all she had lost to kill one man struck into her heart deeper than any dagger or arrow.

"Er… well… That's not the reaction I expected." said the Gunslinger. While he had a reputation for being a Ladies' man, he always was unsure how to react to a crying girl.

"Shut up… Reaver!" shouted Hammer from across the room. The Hero of Strength was still panting after the theft of her energies, and was not as quick to recover as her more morally-questionable blood relative. "You… don't know what… it's like… to lose someone… you care about."

She pulled her trademark weapon loose from her back, using it to prop herself where she could draw better breath. But before she could continue her berating, their leader rose off her knees, wiping tears which came from ducts lost somewhere within the two holes that once held eyes.

"Thank you Hammer." Spoke she for the first time since her second arrival in the Spire. "But I'm fine now. Reaver may be blunt, but the tears I shed are for…"

She bit her lip, chewing on it to draw the pain away enough so she could speak.

"…For what I've lost. Even if I had killed Lucien myself, it would not have brought back my family."

The Hero of Strength seemed hesitant with that answer, but accepted it and backed down. "So… Lucien's dead… What now?"

"Now?" echoed a familiar voice, as the three, and even Garth who had recovered, suddenly looked about the Inner Sanctum of the Spire for the source of the wise, elderly voice. A pulse of fire caused the dais Lucien once occupied to alight, as it rained toward the ceiling in edged droplets. Within, the familiar shape of an old gypsy took form from translucent air, and solidified as the warmth of colors withdrew back into the seal below her feet. "It is time you gained your reward: your gift for saving the world from a madman's selfish dream."

"Theresa?" said Avenger, not believing the information her false eyes were feeding to her brain. "…How-"

"The Spire has awakened. And it still has the power to grant one wish: Yours." The blind woman smiled briefly, before extending a hand, as she had done to the other three heroes before her. "Come. Take my hand."

The fourth hero did not feel fear from this phantom, but she did feel suspicion. However, the familiar voice of her older sister suddenly rose up from the back of her mind: It's all right, little Sparrow. Don't be afraid.

Slowly, she rose her hand, and gently rest it upon the palm of her outstretched mentor's. And in another show of shimmering evaporation, they vanished before the other three heroes.

White. Infinite white, in every direction. She saw, smell, and breathed in the light, as she floated in it with Theresa as if underwater. "You stand in the Heart of the Spire, as the Archon of the Old Kingdom did, thousands of years ago." Said the eldest of the two, "Now it is your turn. Make a wish, but choose wisely, for it will affect all Albion."

"Anything?" asked Avenger. "I can wish for anything?"

"Anything." Said Theresa, waving a hand at waistline, as she was fond of doing.

Shock made the Fourth Hero go numb inside. Could she really wish her loved ones back to life? Her entire family?

"You are not the only one to suffer loss, little Sparrow." Said the Blind Seeress. "How many people do you think died to build the monument you now reside in? Hundreds? Thousands? Can you really think you are the only one to lose something to mysteries of the Old Kingdom?"

The truth stung, replacing her thoughts with bitter realization. Though Lucien had killed those she had cared for, the Spire's list of death was far grander. She herself had witnessed it in the ten years spent in the vast tower, as people were starved to death or simply died from exhaustion while working. With that knowledge in mind, the Hero knew that she could never waste such a powerful gift to end her own grief.

"I will make the Sacrifice. I wish for the return of all those who died to make this horrid Spire. Let them be returned to their loved ones."

Theresa nodded but once, and her words echoed the finality of the Hero's choice. "So be it."

Avenger felt her Wish become Will, as the Spire's endless power began to stir. Azure fireballs spun off from her form and disappeared into the distance, each one carrying her wish out of the focal point of massive relic and gathering magical power in the storm growing outside. Around the Tattered Spire, cobwebs of crackling energy leapt from the numerous, radiant spheres, the magic within the skyscraper building and building. And then, in a heartbeat, the Vast Will Energy Imploded in a massive wave across the sea, Bending reality in its wake.

Within the Spire, the two elderly women, floated, neither speaking for a moment. Then, Theresa broke the silence with words of comfort. "All those who have lost family and friends to the Spire, have had their loved ones returned to them… Confused, but unharmed. Soon, all Albion will be filled with gratitude, and praise this great and selfless hero forever."

Her last sentence she made as gentle as possible: "And they will know what you gave up for your sake."

The light faded from around them, and they once again stood on familiar stone. Hammer was the first to speak. "We heard everything."

Rather than Avenger returning a comment, The Selfless Hero just kept her head bowed. Theresa took the initiative to speak on her pupil's behalf. "Yes. A wish was made, and the World will bear its consequences."

But the Hero of Strength was not about to give up on her friend. "When my father died, it was awful. I can hardly bare thinking about it. To sacrifice him myself… No. It took amazing strength for you to do that. More strength than I'll ever have."

Beneath her black-dyed Highwayman's hat, Little Sparrow smiled only so briefly. No sooner had she released the sentiment then Reaver could keep his mouth shut no longer. "Yes, yes, yes, but on to more important matters. What about ME? What do I get?! Cash would be nice!"

As the three heroes discussed their demands with the gypsy, Avenger simply stood, like one of the old gargoyles scattered across Albion. She never asked for anything, and always gave up whatever she could if it could help another. And in the end, she found that though everyone else was now happy, the Hero had nothing left for herself.

The three said their goodbyes in turn, but Avenger found herself unable to return even with a nod. As the last of them vanished in Theresa's Warp Spell, she turned to her accomplice with a strangely steely posture, and more vigor than had been seen since before even Lucien was born.

"And now, it is time for you to leave." The fortune-teller said, opening her arms outward in a sign of freedom. "The World is yours to enjoy."

And then Theresa suddenly changed tones, as she pulled back her hands, extending a single finger with a sharp nail. "But the spire… is mine. Begone."

Had Avenger heard those words from Theresa at all before today, she would have been shocked and frightened by the sudden coldness in her mentor's voice. But after having made such a final and massive sacrifice, she felt dead to all of Albion.

"I don't want the World."

The immortal sister of the Jack-Slayer never showed any sign of displeasure or any emotion, as always. Her reaction was silence, blank eyes not seeing; and yet piercing ones of crimson fog.

"You may be blind Theresa, but you still know I've given everything for people of our world. Use whatever sight you possess and look at me. I'm an empty, old, broken woman. I've lost everyone and anyone I've loved in this life: my sister… my dog… my husband… even my child. There's nothing for me to return to in Albion except heartfelt but ultimately worthless gratitude."

The Seeress made no move to stop the hero as she drew her pistol. Theresa never attempted to interfere with a choice of morality before, and she wouldn't now. It wasn't that surprising, but some part of Avenger wished the gypsy would care. If there was anyone left in the world she had thought as even partial family, it was the old woman who had nursed her back to health so many years ago.

"I will leave. But not back to Albion, or any other place in this land. I'm going home… to my family."

Drawing the hammer back, the last hero placed the barrel of the gun beneath her left breast, right above the slow beat of an aching heart. The eyes of the elderly women remained locked, not in combat, but in respect. A withered finger wrapped around the trigger, and waited for its final command.

"Goodbye… Theresa."

Avenger wondered if there would be pain. Would this old husk, this shell of a body, feel something after what seemed an eternity of hollowness? She heard the gunshot, felt her heart suddenly stop, but no senses of ache or hurt assailed her mind. Rather, she suddenly felt… warm. The hero stumbled back a bit, a blanket of exhaustion settling atop Avenger as a movie slowly seemed to flash before her.

She saw Rose, jumping around in the newly fallen snow of Old Town. Her sister giggled as she lumped up a ball of the cold fluff, packing it together before rolling it around a bit. The girl smiled at her as she worked on the start of her snowman.

She saw Biscuit, her ever faithful Labrador, bouncing around in a field of flowers. The dog sprinted aside, infront, and behind her as they ran together. In a bound, the dog tackled her from behind, and the two fell down together in a mixture of giddy barks and laughs, a wet tongue covering her in affection.

She saw Jasper, and herself, bodies sweaty, naked, and intertwined beneath linen sheets. They laughed and kissed, whispering sweet pledges of romance into one another's ears as they made tender love in the soft hours of the afternoon.

She saw Jacob, the small tyke grinning toothlessly as he chased after his mother through the Town Square. He would occasionally catch Avenger, grabbing her hand in small fingers as he begged her to buy him a toy, or even once, a broadsword. His promises to be extra careful made her smile one last time.

They were all there, beckoning her, as the red light of her empty eyes faded, and her head tilted back in contentment. She hung for a moment on the last of her life, drawing a final breath as a light behind her family enveloped them, together, and drew her into the most blissful moment the hero had ever felt.

And then she fell, and yet floated, as the warm darkness beneath the platform consumed her.