The crew hauled over another crate and forced off the lid. Two of the men hoisted the dull gray lump and fit it in the cannon, and a susurrus ran up and down the crowd on the hill a safe distance behind. The cannoneers confirmed the direction, assumed their positions, dropped protective bindings over their eyes, and fired.
The inert byproduct of the archsages' miraculous processes activated for the last time, as if it remembered it used to be dragon hearts, unicorn horns, naga skins, and other fabulous items and flared with pride. The cannon propelled the magically active mass into the night sky where it took its place next to the other waste as a light shining forever.
The crowd cheered and marveled that even the refuse of their mighty civilization could decorate the heavens so magnificently. Romantics looked forward to a night sky brighter than the day, while realists asked where they would find enough dragons for that.
The crew worked throughout the night in front of the admiring crowd, and the results persist above us.
Finis
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