Wearied by zer thousand-year quest, Eriol stares into the embers of a dying fire and weeps. Three tears float weightless through the twilight. In the cold air they freeze into tiny, sparkling jewels, then fall to earth: grains of sorrow, their vigour spent. The enchantment fails.
The last and finest of zer kind, Eriol attempts a summoning but zer power is gone. The words of magyck freeze into crystal runes that crack, then splinter into dust. Disheartened, ze fails to notice the approach of the Pale Man.