As the last of the incantations died away, Ror examined the container and smirked, "Really, did you think we would let you get away just like that?" He spoke to Mason's soul in its prison. He turned to the guards, "Get rid of that. His corporeal remains are worth nothing, but if you let them lie about it will bloat and stink." That said, Ror walked away with the container to the laboratory, the metal chain thrown over his shoulder, dangling just above the ground.
The guards nodded, and one bend over to check the body whether it was still alive. Funny how humans could act in such situations. "He's dead," said the guard, stating the obvious. "No pulse, no breathing and no use for us. Let's finish the job and dispose of his body." Together they picked up Mason's corpse and dragged it to the highest cliff of Torregiano where they threw it into the deap sea. There it would rot and serve as fish food or perhaps wash ashore somewhere, but this was of no concern to the Tripower anymore.
Meanwhile in the laboratory, Ror had installed the container in his latest experimental device. Originally he had intended to use it for materia experimentation, to help his fiancee. But a soul would do too. Having slotted the container into place he adjusted the crystals and runes a bit before starting. And so, in the early hours of the morning, the soul of Mason was subject to a torturous experiment in which Ror unravelled the soul like one would unravel a ball of yarn, or a spider web. The sage didn't look away. On contrary, there was a fire in his eyes that burned brightly as he watched the process of Mason's soul deliberately being pulled apart bit by bit by Ror's magic and equipment in this experiment.
And Ror learned as Mason's soul was torn apart and disintegrated. Never would it join the lifestream: its memories and essence lost forever, save the knowledge Ror learned in return. Such irony, thought Ror, that a man who would be known as the most incompetent leader the Tripower had ever seen, would serve the Kingdom one last time in his final hour.
After the last of Mason's soul had disintegrated into nothing for good, Ror switched the experiment off and sat down. "I need to write this down," he thought, and he grabbed his research journal to start making notes.
But instead he wrote down,"The End Is Where We Begin," and he placed the feather back in the ink. He sat there in silent contemplation, until the sun came up.
