Slowly walking through the ruins, releasing all servants. Gathering stores in a knapsack and a bag. A heavy purse as well. Filling a waterskin. Drinking deep one last time. Remembering the spirit of the well, reading its key. The water rushes high, rains down. Running dry. The heart of the manor has stopped. Two graves beside it make up the new, cold heart. Kneeling beside them.

Seeing Her eyes before him. Something welling up in him here at the last, like the farewell of the fountain. The well ran dry but his eyes can still shed drops over barren ground. Bowing his head in grief and homage.

A flutter. On the Master's stone, raised by a servant stone-shaper before its release, a raven alights. In its beak - the rune. Not a scorch on it.

The great bird regards him, one eye after another. Reaching out. It hops down, placing the rune in his quivering hand. Cawing once, then leaving him bemused, stroking the rune amulet with his thumb. Shaking his head. Wondering.

Could it have turned out well after all? Could She have learnt, in time? To love for real, not for the fire instilled in Her blood? Be a real human? And the Master, could he have learnt to love? Could misfortune have been averted and if so, by whom? By him - the Apprentice?

Could he have helped the unwilling Master to master the earth? Is it possible, earth and heaven in union?

The question slips into his heart and nestles there. The rune he hangs above it, a reminder.

The gate left open, he walks down the hill.