Thick, throat-tearing screams ripped through the cavern as precisely one level fifty-seven dwarfess, aged one hundred-and-seventy-four years old, with heavily greyed red hair and two green eyes was reconstructed one mote of mana at a time.

Finally, the screaming stopped and Maggie slumped forward, face-down. 

“Interesting. That took quite a bit longer than for the four of you,” the elf dressed in green trimmed with gold remarked.

The Chosen tore their eyes away from Maggie’s unconscious body and turned to stare at the elves clustered around a surprisingly lavish camp.

“Sorry, who are you again?” Rory quirked an eyebrow.
“My deepest apologies,” the golden-haired elf bowed at the waist.

Simultaneously, the dozen elves in matching black and silver or gold and white platemail dropped to one knee. The Lord of Summer rolled his eyes at the sound of twelve knees striking stone. The other elf simply shrugged when he noticed his companion’s consternation.

“As I was saying, my deepest apologies for this failure in etiquette. I am Kalnaes Greenbough, the Summer King, Lord of Thicket and Rain. This is my husband, Arion Kingsbane, the Winter King, Lord of Air and Darkness. We are the Twin Kings of Verdantes,” he once again gave a small bow, and a smile turned up the corners of his mouth as the taller of the two offered the barest of nods.

The Chosen share a momentary gaze.

“I understand if-” the Summer King began again.
“So, you said something about friendlier shores?” Layla cut in.
“Yes, indeed,” the Summer King smiled broadly.
“We’d like that very much, thanks,” Erin hefted Maggie’s unconscious body off the seal.

“Nnnngggg… oooooo… fuck, me everythin’” the burr wheezed out of her.
“Hi, Maggie,” Layla chirped, holding herself bent over upside down so she and the dwarf could look eye to eye.
“Allo, El. Mmm… could yeh tell me why me everythin’ hurts?” she grunted.
“Yeah, being resurrected hurts like hell, both times so far,” she giggled.
“Resur… wha… ah… how… WHAT IN THE DEPTHS DID THE FOUR O’ YEH DO?! AN WHY AM AH STUFFED BACK IN THE BLOODY FIFTH?!” the dwarf ranted, twisting in Erin’s grip.

The dreadnought carefully set the dwarf on the floor near the elves’ campfire. She grunted again as her rear touched the floor.

“We each gave up about half a weave to bring you back,” Jack smiled gently at her.
“WHAT A BLOODY STUPID THING TA DO! TA WASTE TWO BLOODY WEAVES A-TWEEN THE FOUR O’ YEH!” she ranted.

Layla knelt down next to the dwarf as she shook her fists and yelled at the Chosen, then she wrapped the old dwarf in her arms.

“You’re not expendable, Maggie. That was your one Leroy moment, got it?” she whispered.

The dwarf abruptly fell silent, and slowly tears began to trail down her face as she grabbed the succubus and squeezed her tight.

“Not to be rude,” the golden-haired elf began, “But there is a terribly compelling reason to be anywhere but here in the immediate future.”
“Oh, right, yeah. We should get moving,” Jack looked up, then looked back at the tunnel.

The Winter King drew his sword, a crystalline blade like faceted sapphire, that hummed to life and seemed to draw the heat out of the room simply by being pulled from its sheath.

“She comes,” he intoned.
“How long, my love?” the other elf replied.
“Minutes. Perhaps long enough to finish the ritual. Begin now,” he instructed.
“Sorry, but… when you say ‘she’, do you mean SHE?” Rory asked.
“Yes, the White Beast flies toward us now, at the edge of my wyrding,” he answered.
“Oh, shit. Alright then, what’s the plan?” the salesman drew his dirk and went to stand next to the Lord of Air and Darkness.
“Kalnaes will perform a ritual that will open a pathway through the Between, from this Seal to the one beneath the World Tree in Verdantes, but it will take several minutes. If she arrives before he completes the incantation, we will be forced to hold her off,” the elf turned his gaze toward the salesman, the barest sarcastic smirk on his lips.

The salesman startled, then picked apart the elf’s sentence in his mind.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes, have you then, mate?” he grinned.
“Umm, did I hear you say you’re going to ‘hold off’ the End of fucking Heroes?” Layla joined them.
“Yes, that is what I said,” the King replied.
“I think he’s joking,” Rory looked back at the succubus.
“Only somewhat,” the Winter King answered.
“How long can you hold her?” Jack asked.
“Less time than we may need. A minute, perhaps two,” he shrugged, his artful pauldrons moving as he did.

Behind them, an invocation that didn’t seem composed of any kind of words their translation ability could parse began to fill the cavern.

“Earlier, Kalnaes warded the tunnel. That should buy us a few more minutes,” the King commented grimly.

Behind them, Maggie could be heard brushing Erin off and grunting and grumbling her way to her feet.

“Ugh, fuckin’ depths ah’m gettin too old fer this shite,” she picked her way through the camp and over to where the Chosen and the Winter King stood, halfway between the access tunnel and the seal.

“Maggie, I think you-” Jack had followed her to the cluster.
“Ah think yeh can shut yer wee yap. Ah still have me art, an ah plan ta use it on that smug bitch at least once more afore ah kick it,” she grumbled.

The chanting had grown to a low, a-syllabic drone, and a pinhole in space that hurt to look at had begun to form. 

“Frostguard, Sunsworn, it is your oathbound duty to obey your Lords. I say to you now, when the serpent pathway opens, you shall pass through after the Chosen. Only then shall you take the portal. Then the Summer King. Then myself. This is my Word,” the Winter King spoke with the cadence of ritual, and the twelve elven warriors struck their gauntleted fists to their breasts.

The hole in space continued to grow, rimmed with crystalline fire, lines of power dancing and converging over the seal.

“Soon,” the Winter King whispered.

A sound began to issue from the tunnel’s mouth, a howling like air sweeping through narrow crevasse. It grew, until a cold wind began to swirl out of the access tunnel, the force of the White Beast’s passage pushing the atmosphere in front of her with the force of a storm.

The chanting grew to a crescendo and the gossamer array suddenly snapped together, locking the portal in place.

“ARION, IT IS OPEN! WE MOVE, NOW! CHOSEN FIRST!” the Summer King shouted, his voice at once a distant thunder storm and a whisper heard from a breath away.

The Winter King pushed the Chosen toward the portal, slowly backing toward the Seal as he herded them away. The rush of air pouring from its mouth had grown to a gale force wind.

“Almost,” he whispered again, his blade eagerly humming in his hand.

“Do not touch the edges of the portal. Quickly now!” the Summer King pushed them forward as they hopped through, into a chamber whose only similarity to the one they left was the presence of the Seal beneath their feet.

“You too,” he smiled at Maggie.
“Nae, until yeh’re both through. No arguin’,” her eyes were hard, and the Summer King simply motioned for the Frostguard and Sunsworn to pass through.

They moved with the swiftness of their station, all passing through the portal in less than ten seconds.

“Arion. It is time, my love,” he whispered to the Winter King’s back. 

The tall elf in his resplendent silver and black plate backed slowly toward the portal, his eyes never leaving the tunnel mouth.

The Winter King stole a momentary glance at his love, standing an arm’s reach away, then pushed the golden-haired elf gently through the portal.

“Now,” he whispered.
“Now,” the norn-mother whispered in his mind.

Roshana broke through the tunnel mouth traveling faster than the speed of sound, faster than any human eye could follow.

Mana and Stamina flooded through the Winter King’s form. He had no need of anything so paltry as eyes.

“Stillness of Winter.”

Roshana’s enraged fist was met by the edge of the Winter King’s living blade…

And stopped.

For less than a second, the Mother of Horrors paused to take in the figure that stood before her. The armor that would bankrupt a city state. The blade of sapphire crystal. The flowing silver hair.

“You,” she grinned, a savage, feral expression.

Then her eyes shifted imperceptibly to the right, taking in the disheveled old dwarf standing just to his left and back two steps.

“YOU?!” she gaped, genuinely shocked for the first time in over a century.

“Aye, me, bitch. ALL STORIES MUST END.”

The plane of nothingness bisected Roshana more or less perfectly, causing her two halves to flop to the floor.

I’ll kill you, you little puta!

“Maybe next time it’ll stick, arseface,” Maggie turned to see the Winter King’s shocked expression, then grabbed his arm and hurried through the portal as thousands of strands of white string emerged and began to stitch her back together.

As they emerged into the chamber of the Seal of the Unveiled Eye, both Maggie and the Winter King noticed Jack and Rory’s eyes suddenly widen at something over their shoulder.

Maggie spun with as fast as she could muster, her speed far beyond human limits, but the Lord of Air and Darkness already had his sword in the air.

A whip thin tentacle of Roshana’s flesh erupted from the portal, suddenly irising open into a dozen gripping tendrils, making for Maggie’s face.

The Winter King drove his crystal blade into the whip of flesh, slamming it away from the dwarf.

“Crystal Tower.”

The Summer King snapped his fingers and the portal vanished, leaving a wriggling length of the Mother of Horrors’ flesh lying upon the seal.

The inch-thick string of flesh began to rapidly rot away, disintegrating as they watched.

“Well, this has been a very exciting day. Would anyone care for tea?” the Summer King asked blithely.

“That’d be lovely. Finally, a real civilization,” Rory grinned.

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