Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Apocalypse

Not that the players seem to have learned much, either. Max is still out there scheming and planning, back to the trough after his own recent tribulations, and if anyone knows when he and Leen are going to decide what they’re doing about each other it sure isn’t me. Maybe we’re all too far gone to change our ways. Like I said before, I’ll leave it to others more removed to say what really happened.

I thought of dating this thing Year One of the Twilight of the Gods, but that was far too pretentious and overbearing even for me, much less the editorial eye of the mighty Shaa. I’d been there; it had been clear that a random walk of steps from many independent feet and no little dose of fate or blind chance, depending on your turn of phrase, had led here; it would be left to those teeth-sharpening historians to put things in order and fight over the meaning of events and figure out after we were all gone what we were really all about. So, finally, all I could do was stab toward honesty, whatever its limitations, and sign these -

The Memoirs of Byron, with Interpolations in Divers Voices, of Recent Events of Interest

- and then I stood up from the keyboard and went out to get back to my life.