Chapter 41 Chapter Thirteen Elegy

Under the strong wind, the guards on the border were blown over one by one and rolled down.The spells that bound them—some of them for centuries—were broken like their shattered stone bodies.The last one to fall, the one that held on against the storm to the end, was a statue of a hand clenched into a fist. Long after the oldest oaks were uprooted, and fell like twigs and shoots everywhere; long after the tide washed the shore; It was long after the battered, and blazing fire; long after the various armies fighting at Merilon were routed and fled; the statue braved the storm, and—if anyone was near—the Empty laughter may be heard.

Again and again, the wind whipped at it, the sand gnawed at its stone flesh, the lightning blasted above it, and thunder hammered at it with its mighty fist.At last, when the darkness was at its darkest, it fell; hitting the shore, the stone was shattered into innumerable little fragments, which the howling wind gaily picked up and scattered over the land. land. The soul of the Catalyst saint was liberated, and he joined Simharun's undead ranks, watching it all end with his blind eyes. The storm raged all day and all night, and then, when the whole world had been blown clean, burned clean, and washed clean, the storm stopped.

Everything is so quiet, everything is still. Nothing moves, nothing moves. The fountain of magic has dried up.