Twelve stand amid the Twilight, conversing in strained tones.
“It is decided, then,” says the first.
The second repsonds, “Yes. I will go first, to lay the path before the rest of you. Remember that your timing must be precise.”
“I wonder what we’ll remember? I’d wished to feel the sun on my face before going,” says the third.
“You will again,” says the fourth. “But tomorrow, not today.”
“We would not need to do this again, if it weren’t for that damnable pact,” mutters the third.
“Now is no time for lamentation!” snaps the fifth. “We have already decided.”
“We’ll be legends thrice over,” laughs the sixth. “It’s a thing none before us have done, or ever will again. Now come, it’s time.”
“Yes,” intones the seventh.
The second pauses for a long moment outside of time. “Then let us go.” Motioning to the rest, he says “follow at the appointed time.”
And after only a moment, he takes a single step.