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The Second History

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===Come Again in Glory===
With the Architeurian having already evacuated many of those he deemed to be worthy, the other Hours descended as one to rescue the mortals of the Second History from their folly. The Spark's light guided refugees away from danger, and made sure the warriors of the Second always found their mark. The Cuckoo blinded with illusions the rampaging hordes, and lured them into clusters where mages and Hours could safely eliminate them from a distance.
 
FNORD
 
The Caladrius, the Good Doctor, looked firsthand upon the damaged it had wrought upon the Second History. It saw the countless innocents whose homes had been stolen from them, and the innumerable Dead whom had returned, but were in a constant state of pain. Never before had it realized in its attempts to help it could do more harm than good. It wept for Bayal, and it and all of its Long descended to repair the wounded and comfort the dying. Under the watchful eyes of the other Hours it restored those who could be saved to the state they were in before their injuries, no more no less.
 
===Judged on High===
 
Looking down over her work, the Anaconda was pleased. The Hours had united, and the worst of the damage was rapidly being reversed. The progression of the White Tide had been halted, and the mortals were organizing well enough among themselves to dispatch the occasional freshly risen corpse or stray spirit that had broken off from the main mass. All of the True Hours were present in some form... Save ''one''. She looked to the sky, where the Moon was still visible behind the tear in reality. The Dolomedes had so far been silent in its Hall, and had made no move to attempt to mitigate the damage. The Spider was a power of utmost Winter, once the foremost power of stealth before the Serpent descended. She was certain what had happened to the Second had not escaped its notice. But in order to begin to repair the damage, as an Hour of Winter she would need to begin gathering these souls in preparation for return to the Hall. It skirted dangerously close to how the Great Serpent had interposed itself in the First Men's Bargain, but there was no choice.
 
She descended down, down to where a lone Dead wandered aimlessly. As she approached the pitiful creature, for a brief moment dared to wonder if the Spider was paying attention. That lasted until the moment she made contact with the Dead.
 
Immediately, she was driven down into the dirt as something massive landed on her back. She moved to strike back, only to realize her sword had been removed from her mouth and driven square into her back, pinning her in place. And sitting atop her was the Ferryman, bathed in baleful light. None, be they Long, Name or Hour dared move. With one withered hand the spider grasped the hilt of the sword, and proffered the empty other to the Anaconda. Beneath the folds of its hood, its eyes were locked tight with those of the Shedder-of-Skins.
 
Slowly, deliberately, so that the motion could in no way be interpreted as a threat, she reached up and offered the Dead to the Ferryman. Quickly, softly, she assured the spider she did not intend to betray his Bargain. She was merely acting in his absence to return his stolen property and restore the balance between life and death. She would not dream of taking what was clearly the spider's for her own, and would only ask leave to continue to assist the master of Winter in this way until the crisis had properly passed.
 
For many long moments that to the Hours were like lifetimes, none dared move or draw breath. Then, at long last, the Dolomedes took the Dead from the Anaconda's hand. And with the abruptness of its appearance, was gone.