Apocalyse

The old man climbed wearily up the last few feet of trail. His were feet bare and bleeding, his tunic torn and blowing wildly in the chill wind. His long white hair was streaming out behind him as he gained the summit and looked down on the world below. Ruined, ice wrapped cities were dodging through the mist and fog, swirling and hiding the destruction that was reality. The old man rested on a throne on the summit of the world. Spread out before him was Everything, city and civilization, in all its vastness.
Looking down the sharp, icy slope, he saw a dark figure slowing picking his way up the mountain. The old man wiped the cold precipitation off his brow and spoke these words: “Alas that such evil days should come in my waning. There was a day when the world shook each time my name sounded. When I carried the Red Sword of War into battle men quailed before me. It is an evil fate that now I can hardly lift my own body. Why do such things happen to men? Why are we not immortal, ever youthful? The Almighty made our bodies, how can they tarnish? Alas! The answer is coming up this very slope. Would to God I had saved a last reserve of vitality and a simple bronze dagger!” And with that he arose and spoke forth toward the creature ascending the slope. “Come, fate, and be done with me. I am an old unarmed man. You need have no fear of me.”
The figure on the slope stopped and raised its hooded head, but there was no face to be seen. Out of the blackness spoke a voice as cold as the ice around it. “King of Kings, you know the Time has come, and yet you almost persevered to the last. But giving your soul for glory that is shortly to be forgotten was something I only expected from fools. You know the rules of the game, but out of glory you choose Death, and the Inferno. Yet your fate is pitiable, since you came so close. Should I consult with the Almighty and see what He has to say?”
“Men know only the world, and glory to be gained, how could I have done else?”
“Men are fools”
“Then what are you, a governor of fools? I do not want to bargain, Spirit. I am a mortal, but I have enough of the dignity that God has bestowed upon me to accept my fate.”
“Consider it done.”
His haggard old eyes took in everything for one last time.
“What happens after this world, Spirit?”
“Eternalness. He who wins in this world dominates in the next. He who loses in this world is cursed in the next. You already know this.”
“I am mortal, Spirit. I am limited to a mind and memory.”
“I am aware, as I am of many things.”
The old man sighed, and shrugged his shoulders wearily, and said “ My life is over.” He paused. “Was it fruitful, Spirit?”
“No. The things of this world pass away into the void, unless the glory of lost days is retained in the memories of those who survive.”
“Do they think of such things while surrounded with blissful happiness?”
He spoke with a hint of regret in his voice.
“No, there is no need. The least of things there is greater than everything of this world.”
“Then my life was in vain?”
“Yes, but not unwholey so.”
The aged king looked questioningly at the black robed figure.
“Another age is coming, king. The history of your glory will live on for another millennia yet.”
“But not forever, Spirit? Then I have lived for nothing if everything I was will perish!”
“Yes. Mortals are doomed to such torment”
“Cursed we are.”
“Yes”
The old one cast his eyes around the bitter world, bereft of life. The palaces of renown and temples of gold lay in ruin, crusted with ice, broken and twisted. The Fog swirled and moved with the wind, which played with the flakes of bitter ice on the mountaintop.