The struggle has begun in earnest. It actually started toward the end of June, but he was so strong that we didn’t notice. Yet it persisted. We thought he would overcome it. He thought so too. We thought he was invincible. But we were wrong. In September, a mighty battle was fought, and it did not go in his favor. He suffered a mighty blow. Then all eyes turned warily toward him, waiting, watching. “It won’t be long now,” they whispered in the forest.
The Dark Ones whispered.
They spread the rumors. “The King
is dying! The King is dying!” The forest creatures were afraid. They hid themselves in the dying green until
the barrenness betrayed them, and then they ran in terror. The Dark Ones laughed. The King is dying. The end is near.
And so the sun sets earlier now and further to the
southwest. It is not as strong. The light fades. The King is dying.
But there are rumors . . .
 |
| The sun weakens and sets further to the southwest. |
