I stare at the notice, blinking once, twice, thrice.  Since I first saw it, I’ve tried to wrap my mind around it all, but I can’t—not yet.

I turn away and wander down the hall. Ten years’ worth of adventures adorns the walls, tales of knights, dragons and damsels, and strange worlds beyond understanding. Some of these works will be rolled up and taken to new locations; others will remain, quietly gathering dust.

Other figures move down by the fire, many who have been here longer than I. In this moment, there is no difference between battle-scarred veterans and bright-eyed newcomers: we are all stunned.

Perhaps later I shall find solace in the fact that the end came peacefully, without factions or bloodshed. Yet it is still sour to taste.  No longer shall the fire illuminate the Great Hall, for the table of meeting will be taken away.

There are other halls of course, some of which I visit regularly. But this is unique, a gathering of uniquely educated individuals with a purpose. We were knights errant and questing ladies, gathering to tell tales of our adventures.  At the far end of the hall, I see others throwing great longs on the fire. Yes, the end comes, but it shall not come whimpering. The flames leap higher than they ever have before or ever will again.