“From the Endless War to the Solaris War. The Battle of Haven to the Fight for Genesis. Even the Vashmir Pandemic and the War of the Mist.” Kathleen Ambershey set the final book, Years to the End of the World, down on a table with eight others. “How many times did you actually take part in a story?”

“Just two of them,” The Watcher replied. “I was a bystander for the others.”

He was in a rotund room. Two storey tall, the ceiling was lit by dozens of flecks of light that resembled stars. Bookshelves lined the walls, with roundels above each that glowed a soft white acting as sources of light. Four wood doors were poised at each cardinal directions upon a annulus platform of velvet carpet.

The platform led down to the grassy circular 'ground floor', which consisted of a round table bolted to the centre of the room and three swivel chairs surrounding it, despite never having had more than two occupants in the enclosure at once. Piles of books occupied the table mountainously. Above the table, hanging down from a ceiling mount that pivoted was a monitor that showed the world outside his body. The Watcher sat on one of the chairs, writing feverishly into an empty book.

Taking a seat opposite him, Kathleen spun on the chair, admiring the place. “I like this room. It's so much more decorative than all the others.”

“I saw the design on a television show once. Thought it looked neat.” He did not take his hand away from his frantic scribbling. Despite the speed of his writing, the words seemingly squirmed into a perfected readable font. Noting the lights, he said, “I liked the round things on the wall.”

As he set the final period onto the last page, the book he wrote on shrunk to fit the text. He closed it, the title reading Ulysses. He sat the book upon the pile, with works ranging from The Hobbit to Don Quixote. Even one titled, Height Hack: A Universal Guide on Stretching.

Kathleen finally caved and asked, “What are you doing?”

“I've read many books in my lifetime.” Involuntarily, he taut his back in a stretch. What for he was not sure, as he had not felt any physical discomfort since his arrival. “I thought it would be a good way to kill some time to write them from scratch.”

“You're joki – no. That look on your face is totally sincere.”

He twisted his vision and lopped his tongue out the side of his mouth in comedic response.

“You should take things a little more seriously,” she sternly reprimanded.

He looked up at the monitor. In it, Light was frozen midway through a slash down towards his head. At the corner of the screen, he could see Nadier and Adelaide, an image he had recently seen arrive. However, they moved at a speed so slow, you could only tell they were not motionless by comparing minute to minute freeze frames. Or, if you were The Watcher.

“How long do you think they'll stay there?” he asked.

“I don't know. How long before you leave this place?”

“Once they realize there's no way out of the time bubble without my say so, they'll give up,” he convinced himself.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course. They're tenacious, not stupid.”

“What's the difference?”

He made a quick calculation as he watched Nadier's eyes slowly closing in a blink. It was off, watching someone blink in slow motion. Without realizing, most people have slight ticks, making one eyelid close slower. Nadier's left eye was just less than a fraction of a tenth of a second faster than his right.

Kathleen asked, “What's your plan?” He turned his attention away from the screen and she continued, “You're not going to stay here forever, are you?”

“Of course not.”

He had calculated, using what he deduced from Tearha's astrological movements, that in one year of Tearha's time, he would have the opportunity to remove the time lock placed on the gravity of the area. Along with Light, they would be hurled into space, fired through the building at an angle that would not likely see any people in harm's way. It was ironically similar to what happened with Akaras Spaedruiner. Back then, The Watcher had just arrived on Tearha and had not included the planet's spin and orbit into the calculated use of his power, which threw Akaras into the wall at the speed of the rotation of the planet.

Kathleen voiced, “That's a stupid plan.”

Even though The Watcher only recapped the formula in his mind, it had never once slipped past the hallucination of the late Kathleen. Just part and parcel of conversing with figments of imaginations inside ones' own mind.

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He explained, “The physical matter that had coagulated on the shell of the bubble would experience intense friction upon release. By that time, the force would be equivalent to a supernova. I would have to be flung far out enough into space that the solar system would not be caught in our wake. Until then, I will remain here.”

“Why do you have to be awake?” She probably knew why. It was just his mind's way of working through problems. He had gotten so used to bouncing off ideas within his head that it had never occurred to him that his brain could actually bounce those ideas back.

“I need to know when to release. My consciousness is locked in base time. Speed one. Tearha moves at one hundred and thirty nine multiples.”

“The number one-three-nine...”

“It's the base time of Tearha's universe. Like how my universe is seven. That's why dreams lasts for such drastically different times in different worlds.” He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes with a sigh of fatigue. “I should have figured it out sooner. Might have saved me the trouble of finding the answer. I could have saved a few lives. Your life.”

“It would not have prevented anything.”

“I know,” he admitted and silence fell between them.

When he reopened his eyes, Kathleen was gone. Instead, Luviet sat on the steps beside him, a book titled Genesis in his hands. Flipping through the pages, the man that had come to take on the epitaph of Light chuckled at memories on the paper.

Luviet asked, “How much of us did you try to forget?”

“As much as I can,” The Watcher admitted. “Besides, I'm nearly a thousand years old. There are bound to be some things that slips my mind.”

“Is that the lie you tell yourself when you say you can't remember the faces of people you've met?”

“It's not a lie,” The Watcher replied. “I can't remember anyone's faces.”

Luviet scoffed and noted, “One hour have passed on Tearha.”

“I know.”

“You plan to stay here for one year, Tearha time.”

“That's right.

“How long have you been here?”

He paused. It was a question he tried not to bode on. “Five days and twenty-one hours.” For his plan to work, he would have to stay time-locked for one hundred and thirty-nine years.

Luviet laughed, putting the book down on the floor beside him. He got up and walked to the centre of the room and placed his hand on the mountain of books. The Watcher wasn't sure what was so funny. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. After all, Luviet, no, Light, was his responsibility. It was his role as the man who won the Endless War to see the final phase through. With a blink, Luviet turned back into Kathleen.

In a voice of a wisp, she said, “You have to stop living in just the past and the future.” Her head looked to the monitor, causing The Watcher to follow.

What the monitor actually showed was the world through The Watcher's physical eyes. And where once stood just Light and an impending strike, was further blocked by a body of black.

“Nads...” He had not thought of that possibility.

They knew. Those two idiots had to know that there were no guarantees he would remove the time bubble, or if he did, it would not be any time soon. Nadier must have had Adelaide teleport him in, bypassing the temporal shell. Instantaneous teleportation. In the corner of the screen, Adelle still stood, looking sombrely away. Then, she too vanished in a blink. However, she did not reappear within his line of sight and he scanned the screen for her presence to no avail.

Luviet spoke up, now joined in the same room as Kathleen, pacing around on the circular platform that surrounded the centre table. “They've gone all in on you.”

“It's just Nadier. It's one life,” The Watcher argued. The last of the dark elves. “A small sacrifice. I won't even remember him in a few years time.”

In a sweep of calm anger, Kathleen wiped the table clean of books, sending the novels and guides flying onto the ground. “You don't remember anything? Look at these books you wrote 'just to kill time'!” She picked the nearest copy off the ground. “You wrote the entirety of The Seven's Saga out on a whim! The Lord of the Rings! Grace and Defeat! From memory!”

Luviet added from his high ground. “You remember just fine. You simply don't want to because you're afraid everyone will die and leave you the last man standing.”

“I–but...” The Watcher tried to retort.

“No buts.”

He spun on his feet at the new voice. Standing at the southern doorway, with rays of sunlight shining at his back was his brother, Tier, leaned against a frame. Short, ruffled hair of brown and eyes of hazel, the man wore his trademark cock-eyed grin. Sharp jawed, deep dimpled, framed cheeks, wearing the blue shirt and black jeans he was last seen in, Tier was a splitting image from the distant past.

In almost a disappointed tone, Tier scolded, “It's time to get off your ass. No more excuses. We didn't leave you. We're just waiting for you at the end of the line.”

All four doors to the room opened and an out-pour of people, men and women, old and young, spilled into the room, surrounding The Watcher. He recognized the faces. Faces he had wanted not to recall. Faces he had associated with lost and courage, love and death, happiness and hatred, songs and blood, family and enemies, friends and rivals.

Then, Gallena stepped through the crowd. Green eyes reflecting like a leaf in the sun. Long, curly hazel hair nicking the catches of her shirt. A smile that could melt hearts and thaw ice ages. A musical chuckle escaped her and she gave The Watcher a light kiss, the honeyed taste of her lips lingering for what must be aeons.

“Stop pretending you can't remember us,” she giggled the words out of her. “It's bad for your health.”

Amongst the crowd, Luviet was nowhere to be found.

His brother came to his side. “Alright, little bro.” They turned to watch the monitor where time continued to stand still. “I know I sound a little racist here, but that black guy and the hippie elf girl out there? They're your companions for this leg of the race, just like how we were for the earlier parts.” He wrapped an arm around The Watcher. Despite being the same height, Tier had always managed to make The Watcher felt like a coddled puppy. “In the future, they will leave you, and others will join. That's just the deal. But at the finish line, I'll have a cup of hot tea waiting for you.”

A small boy tugged at the edge of The Watcher's coat. He looked down at the child he thought of as a mentor.

Stop taking on all the big things by yourself.

From the dawn of it, we were bundled.

You're only alone if you think everyone else is together.

You're only homeless if you think home is where you were born.

You're only the last of your kind if nothing is alive.