"It is finished," Nine said.
"I know."
"The age is almost over."
"The Wheel of Fortuna turns again."
During twilight, the veil between the worlds grew thinnest and they could watch as if sitting on a lattice window gazing out into the world. From their perch they could spy into the world of man or into the world of fairy. A grand vista churned away in silence, with all of the delicate colors of life on resplendent display. In time they would be forgotten. Only the best stories endured. The sun was nearly set and it was time for mysterious creatures to scamper about.
"You're sad."
"Endings always make me sad. The end is goodbye."
The lovely Nine pursed her lips. Not wanting her good mood spoiled, she snapped her fingers. An elf returned with a golden chalice. Sprites handed Merle a chalice. "We have mead, but rather than drink that, a duke of this age gave me a delightful bottle of 1787 Chateau Lafite, which was once the property of Thomas Jefferson."
"You are delightfully full of random," Merle smirked.
"I propose a toast. To family, even in their absence."
A brown and black squirrel, with a gray streak along its back, darted up a tree with drooping branches overlooking King's grave. Resting on its haunches, its head turned left and right on the watch for predatory eyes. It sniffed the air once, twice, then fiddled with an acorn.
And waited.