The Story of a Fey Bargain Struck

They came to Lord Revel at the height of the party asking him to strike a bargain that any mortal who visited would be sent through the front door of the House of 27 Rooms.
They gave him first the things they found precious: books from their library; a bird that speaks every language of men; a map of stars that twilight had not yet revealed. But these were of little consequence to Lord Revel – every guest brings gifts.

Next they gave him stories of human revelry: of fireworks like rainbows above a city of towers and pyramids; of ten days of feasting that followed the emperor’s coronation; of bonfires burning through the longest night on floating cities in the endless ocean. But these were of little value to lord Revel – for the dozen dozen houses of the Twilight Kingdom had celebrations for which there is no word in mortal tongue.

In desperation, they challenged him to a game of poetry – a game of naming – whoever could most beautifully name Lord Revel’s Estate. Lord Revel spoke the name as it had been before a bargain was struck:

wide lawns spread down easy 
hanging lanterns welcome you
a party begins.

Lord Revel Beginning.

But the wizard, wise in Fey lore, guessed correctly that Revel was trapped by his own story, trapped by his own immortality, unable to imagine any other moment in the narrative, not knowing that the wine would spill, the guests slowly drift away. So the wizard spoke the name as it would become:

wide lawns gone askew 
hanging lanterns flicker low 
a party ending.

Lord Endless Ending.

And in so naming, the lord of the house looked up and saw it was so. Empty glasses sat on every surface, wine spilled on the floor. Already a few of the candles had burned out. The chill of evening was in the air, and at the river a small boat was already in the water, the rowers calling out farewells.

That is the moment it has been ever since. From time to time, the grandfather clock chimes and Endless Ending sends a mortal down the road. But whether that has been once or a hundred times, who can say? Despair hovers just beyond the edge of vision everywhere that Lord Ending turns his head: soon he’ll be alone in an empty, messy house; the best is well behind him now.