A shadow moved to his right. He turned and there was Caswallon, leaning on his staff of oak, his robes of velvet shimmering in the moonlight.
'And so it ends,' said Caswallon, his wispy white beard swirling in the breeze like wood-smoke.
'No, it begins,' said Gaelen, pointing at the cave.
Caswallon nodded. 'And now you will be King, Gaelen. How does that sit with you?'
Gaelen pushed his iron-grey hair back from his eyes, 'I'd give it all up to be young again.'
Caswallon turned and gestured to the Gate. 'But you are young, Gaelen. Through that Gateway is a youth, who with his friends is walking the mountains. Even now the wind is in his hair, and the future is before him, bright and golden. Just a few steps away. Would you like to see him?'
Gaelen smiled. 'Let us leave him to his life,' he said, taking Caswallon by the arm and leading him down the mountainside.