The ink is dry.

I write by the window.

The glass is cold.

My breath fogs it.

I am the Keeper.

I hold the Seal.

It is a mark.

Ink on skin.

On my wrist.

It has been there.

For forty years.

It does not fade.

It does not hurt.

It simply is.

The Council watches.

They sit in high chairs.

The room is stone.

It is always stone.

There is no sun here.

Only lamps.

Flame in glass.

The air is stale.

It smells of dust.

And fear.

I am old now.

My hands shake.

Not from cold.

From weight.

The Seal is heavy.

It pulls at the blood.

I have waited.

For this day.

For the end.

The door opens.

Silence breaks.

He enters.

Edward.

My son.

He is tall.

He is young.

His face is smooth.

He does not know.

He has never known.

He wears the suit.

Black wool.

Sharp lines.

He looks at me.

His eyes are wide.

There is fear there.

And awe.

He stands before me.

The Council is silent.

They watch.

They wait.

Edward steps forward.

He speaks.

His voice is low.

He says I am tired.

He says I have served.

He says it is time.

I nod.

I do not speak.

Words are useless.

They are heavy.

They break easily.

I look at his hand.

He holds a vial.

Glass.

Clear.

Inside, a liquid.

Silver.

It shimmers.

It is the Eraser.

It is the end.

He holds it out.

His hand is steady.

His eyes are wet.

He wants this.

He wants me gone.

He wants the power.

He thinks he is kind.

He thinks it is mercy.

He is wrong.

He is so wrong.

I take the vial.

The glass is warm.

In his hand.

It is cold in mine.

I uncork it.

The smell is sharp.

Like metal.

Like ozone.

I pour it into a cup.

The liquid settles.

It looks like water.

But it is not.

It is death.

It is freedom.

I look at Edward.

He watches me.

His jaw is tight.

He is afraid.

Of me.

Of the act.

Of what comes next.

I raise the cup.

My hand is steady now.

The shaking stops.

The fear stops.

I am calm.

I am clear.

I drink.

The taste is bitter.

It burns.

It spreads.

It goes down.

I set the cup down.

It clinks on stone.

The sound is loud.

The room is still.

Edward leans forward.

He expects pain.

He expects a scream.

He expects me to fall.

I do not fall.

I do not scream.

I smile.

It is a small smile.

It is gentle.

He blinks.

Confusion on his face.

I look at my wrist.

The Seal is there.

Dark.

Black.

It has not changed.

I look at the Council.

They are still.

They are confused.

They do not understand.

I stand up.

My legs are strong.

I walk to the window.

The glass is clear now.

The fog has cleared.

I see the sky.

It is grey.

It is vast.

I press my hand to the glass.

The Seal is on my wrist.

It touches the pane.

The ink bleeds.

It seeps into the glass.

A black vein.

It spreads.

Fast.

Like a crack.

Like a star.

It moves across the pane.

It climbs the wall.

It climbs the beam.

It climbs the ceiling.

The room darkens.

The lamps flicker.

The stone turns black.

The floor turns black.

The air turns black.

I do not look back.

I watch the sky.

The grey turns white.

Then gold.

Then light.

Pure light.

It fills the room.

It fills my lungs.

It fills my eyes.

I feel the Seal.

It is light.

It is gone.

It was never on my skin.

It was on the world.

I held it.

I held the dark.

I kept the light.

For forty years.

I was the wall.

I was the dam.

Now the dam breaks.

The water rises.

The light rises.

I am the channel.

I am the glass.

I am the window.

Edward screams.

It is a small sound.

It is lost.

In the noise.

In the light.

I do not hear it.

I do not see him.

I see only the white.

The white is warm.

It is soft.

It is like breath.

It is like love.

I have loved this.

I have loved the dark.

I have loved the weight.

I have loved the duty.

I have loved the silence.

I have loved the pain.

I have loved the truth.

The truth is simple.

To save the light.

You must become the dark.

To save the self.

You must lose the self.

To save the world.

You must break the world.

I am broken.

I am whole.

I am gone.

I am here.

The light is bright.

The light is loud.

The light is full.

It takes me.

It takes all.

It takes the stone.

It takes the glass.

It takes the fear.

It takes the doubt.

It takes the name.

It takes the face.

It takes the memory.

It takes the past.

It leaves the present.

It leaves the now.

It is the now.

It is the end.

It is the start.

I am the Seal.

I am the break.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the window.

I am the view.

I am the sky.

I am the air.

I am the breath.

I am the silence.

I am the sound.

I am the voice.

I am the word.

I am the ink.

I am the paper.

I am the story.

I am the end.

The ink is dry.

The page is white.

The light is on.

The room is empty.

The chair is cold.

The glass is clean.

The Seal is gone.

The Council is gone.

Edward is gone.

The stone is gone.

The fear is gone.

The pain is gone.

The weight is gone.

The duty is done.

The sacrifice is made.

The redemption is real.

The truth is seen.

The mirror is broken.

The self is free.

The light is free.

The world is free.

I am free.

I am nothing.

I am everything.

I am the light.

The light is warm.

The light is bright.

The light is kind.

The light is love.

The light is me.

The light is you.

The light is all.

The light is now.

The light is here.

The light is gone.

The ink is dry.