...The End
Long ago in the early days of their travels, an ancient wizard told them great evil was best countered by the simple good of ordinary folk.
They who had traveled so far, been through so much - they faced World-Breaker in the place of power. Smith, cooper, seamstress, healer, beggar, clerk - a mother, a father, a husband, a wife, a brother, a sister... They came not because they were a powerful mage, an armored knight, or a noble on a quest, but because it was them or none. Others would call them hero and heroine, and be right, but _they_ dwelled on saving the world as they knew it.
Bleeding, battered, and weary, they stood against the Unweaver, surrounded by its minions. "You dare stand against me?" it chittered,"I, who am the stuff of legends?" It gestured dismissively,"Where are your spells, your army, your artifacts to slay me? By my blood and my power I swear - bring who and what you like and I will still slay you all."
Fool. "We are ordinary people," they said. "If we fall there are many more like us." So be it. The Power cared nothing for who or what invoked it or how it was used. The Power was only a tool. Across the world ordinary folk heard a Question. A smith picked up his hammer and stepped through the door. A midwife bid farewell to her cat, lifted her basket, and crossed the threshhold. A squad of city guardsmen looked to each other and marched across the bridge. A thief picked up an extra blade and slipped out the window. A priest blessed his flock and turned to go. A follower of no god turned oddly at the crossroads.
Ordinary folk, by the thousands, did what was needful. Soon enough the sun set, the world turned, and the sun rose again. ...and then people the world around awoke and did ordinary things.
