Grum'Thal reached for the dissipating soul flames that had engulfed the contract. His fists wrapped around the last ember, just in time for it to dissolve into his palm.
He closed his eyes, his voice the whisper of someone who finally realised his impossible dream after fifteen thousand years—fifteen thousand long years of suffering, of dimming hope, of guilt. "Free."
Adam slumped into his seat. His eyelids dropped, his voice slurred from exhaustion. "I'm glad you endured the treatment... I must return... Not now... An hour to rest... Lulu, come back."
He passed out, yet his grin reached his closed eyes.
Lulu gave him a tender nod. Then, she flew before Grum'Thal's emerald eyes. Slowly, she reached for his light copper cheek. "I hope we'll meet again, friend. Until then, make sure to catch up on these fifteen thousand years of freedom robbed from you. And... sorry about the pain you went through."
