LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF LEWIS DEATHSTALKER.
He never wanted to be King. He never wanted to be the Champion. He only ever wanted to do his duty: to protect the innocent and punish the guilty. But he fell in love with his best friend’s fiancée, and was in turn betrayed by another friend. They took away his good name, and made him an outlaw.
Deathstalker luck. Always bad.
I saw him gather friends and allies, and set out to raise an army to overthrow the forces of evil, like another Deathstalker before him, and I wanted to warn him that heroes have a tendency to die young, and bloody. I saw old friends return from the past, and legends walk in history once more. Stories left unfinished have a way of enforcing their own endings.
In my dream I saw planets burning in the long night, and armies of the dead overrunning the cities of men.
All in a dream . . . and all so very long ago. Or maybe it was just yesterday.
All stories come to an end, in Time.