Epilogue

Jarlaxle ran his hand along the binding of the leather journal. It was finally finished. This slender book would change the world. A smile flitted across the drow's dark face. The first time he had seen the journal was in Faerun. The drow remembered it like it was yesterday. A delicate dark haired girl named Anna Entreri had brought it back from the future. Anna was a mystery that defied all reason. She had stumbled into his life wearing a strange blood stained uniform from a war that wouldn't happen for hundreds of years. The events that followed would become legends.

He tucked the journal into the pocket of his purple velvet coat before stepping off the sidewalk. Ignoring the tourists who were taking pictures he made his way to the gleaming black Lamborghini parked in the street. He dropped into the front seat and started the engine. A smile of pure pleasure spread across Jarlaxle's face as the car roared to life. The drow had always loved magical things. As far as he was concerned technology was merely modern day magic. Putting the car into gear he pulled away from the curb.

Things had changed so much. It was hard to believe this was the same world that he had come to nearly a century ago. As he weaved through traffic he turned to the passenger's seat to talk to Anna. It was empty. The drow sighed and turned his attention back to the road. Ignoring the unwelcome pang of grief he turned on the radio.

Jarlaxle slowed as he approached the cemetery gates. Winding his way through the cemetery he parked the car near an ornate mausoleum. The dark elf turned off the engine and leaned back in the seat. Tilting his head back he watched a fat white cloud drift across the sky. He sighed and reluctantly stepped out of the car. Walking over to Anna's tombstone he crouched in front of it and rested his hand on the cold granite.

Never in his wildest dreams had Jarlaxle ever expected to spend his life with someone. But that was exactly what he had done. Stranger still was the fact that he had stayed of his own free will. He had grown old with Anna. Once he had left the void he had begun to age as quickly as a human. The first wrinkle had been quite a shock. For a race as long lived as the drow to age so quickly was disturbing. Despite his lost youth Jarlaxle had no regrets except for the loss of Artemis.

After returning to Faerun Jarlaxle never saw the assassin again. It pleased him that Betsy had been sent back to his place. It wasn't good for Artemis to be alone. He often wondered what changes Betsy had brought about in his dour friend.

Jarlaxle smiled as he reflected on his life in the 20th century. It had been a good life. He had lived life to fullest. By his side had been someone who loved him with her whole heart. They had been as different as night and day. But that very difference had been what held them together. Old age had finally taken his Anna away. Jarlaxle sighed. He missed her. Life wasn't the same without her.

Reaching into his coat he pulled out the journal. "We will meet again soon my love," Jarlaxle said softly. He stared at the journal for a long moment. His own life was coming to an end. Old age would claim him soon as well. The drow welcomed death's dark embrace.

It was amazing that something so simple could change the world. He spent many years perfecting the spell that would carry the journal back in time until it reached Anna. Considering the amount of effort that went into creating the journal he shouldn't be having doubts. But he was. Once he sent the journal to Anna there was no stopping the events that would follow.

Because of him thousands would die. Because of him the very fabric of the world would change. Because of him a once great race would all but cease to exist. He could stop it. Prevent it from ever happening. But that would mean losing the one person that changed his life. He would lose the one person that had never bored him. The one person that had taught him what it meant to be happy. The only person that had ever truly loved him. Anna.

"What should I do?" the drow asked the tombstone. He was met with silence.

"I was under the impression that you had already decided," came the dry reply from behind him. Jarlaxle twisted around to see Kimmuriel.

"Indeed," Jarlaxle smiled as he rose to his feet and leaned against the tombstone.

Over the past century Jarlaxle had created an empire with the help of Kimmuriel. The drow had taken a group of small time criminals and turned them into an organized force that ruled the world. His men held positions of power in every government in the world.

Jarlaxle was content to rule from the shadows. Few had ever seen the drow. The few that had met him were never the same. His former lieutenant had seen to that. It was amazing what doors an Unseelie Sidhe prince could open. Even the crime syndicate that Jarlaxle controlled shook in fear at the mere thought of a visit from one of Kimmuriel's dark elves.

"You have the item," Kimmuriel said seeing the journal that Jarlaxle was holding.

"The spell is complete," Jarlaxla confirmed handing the journal to Kimmuriel.

Kimmuriel looked at his friend. Jarlaxle was conflicted. Although Kimmuriel was no longer mortal he had retained his telepathic abilities.

It was ironic that after his time in the void Jarlaxle no longer carried the flu. The creation of feary had changed both Jarlaxle and the Fae. Kimmuriel had offered to take Jarlaxle to Faery but he had refused. Kimmuriel had originally put it down to Jarlaxle's odd attachment to the human girl. But Anna was dead and the drow still did not want to return with him. In Faery Jarlaxle would regain his youth. He would be immortal. Yet the drow had declined his offer. It made no sense to the Sidhe but then Jarlaxle had never made sense.

"If I didn't know better I would think you had doubts," Kimmuriel remarked.

Jarlaxle laughed. He could never totally hide things from the observant Unseelie prince. "I trust everything is prepared?" he asked ignoring the statement.

"Of course," Kimmuriel answered.

"Then we shall meet again at the new moon," Jarlaxle said. Kimmuriel inclined his head. Jarlaxle suddenly grinned, "Are you sure you would not like to go for ride?" he teased. Jarlaxle's driving habits had been a long standing joke between the two. Kimmuriel had gotten in a car with him once. It had been a ride the Unseelie prince would never forget.

Kimmuriel shook his head causing Jarlaxle to laugh harder. The Unseelie prince allowed himself a slight smile, "It should tell you something when an immortal fears your driving," he said.

"I am wounded!" Jarlaxle exclaimed placing a hand over his heart.

Kimmuriel snorted and rolled his eyes causing Jarlaxle to laugh again. The amusement left Kimmuriel's eyes as he looked at Jarlaxle. "You're time here is coming to end. If you remain here you will die. I see death upon your face even now. I offer you youth and immortality. Will you not return with me?" he asked.

"I am better suited to this world than Faery," Jarlaxle answered.

Kimmuriel would never understand that Jarlaxle welcomed death. Of course Kimmuriel had never loved. It was an emotion that was beyond the Unseelie prince's understanding. There was no point in explaining.

"Perhaps Jarlaxle will yet change his mind," the Sidhe said with a sly smile. Then he was gone leaving Jarlaxle alone with his thoughts.

Jarlaxle laughed as his friend disappeared. Kimmuriel knew him well but still did not understand the desires of his heart. He smiled and traced the carved granite of the tombstone with a black finger. It had taken a long time to recognize the emotion he felt for Anna was love. Lizzie had known. It had been one of the first things she had told him. The concept had been so foreign that Jarlaxle had scoffed at the idea. Now nearly century later he realized that even a drow could love. Not that he ever admitted it. He was a drow after all.

Whistling cheerfully he walked back to the car. Dropping into the driver's seat he pulled down the visor and looked at his reflection. It never failed to shock him to see the wrinkles that now lined his face. He smiled at the elderly face in the mirror. The loss of his elven youth should have distressed him. But it didn't. Quite the contrary. His life had been rich. He should feel guilt. He should be horrified at what he what he was willing to sacrifice.

Fortunately Jarlaxle did not possess a conscience.

The drow chuckled as he reached for his sunglasses. Sliding them on his face he started the car and pulled away.

The wheels of destiny had been set in motion. Jarlaxle smiled in satisfaction. Yes, things were going exactly as he had planned.

"Find me my love," he whispered, "I am waiting."

The end.

Author's Note: I'M DONE! Well, what did you think? Did you like the ending? My 93 year old neighbor told me she is going to miss Jarlaxle. She has gotten attached to him. Lol. I assured her that she will get to know a new drow in my next story. It will be fun. She has her doubts…but I will change her mind. Just you watch.