Epilogue
Smoke rose from the plain, a black smear across the sky that rendered its waters too polluted for clouds to swim. The wind carried a foul stench far afield like a horrid messenger.
Beneath the smoke lay countless corpses. Many emotions—resentment, despair, sorrow—were painted on their faces, but chief among them was fear. The number who had died with tears on their cheeks, reaching in vain for their homes, defied imagination. Crows wheeled in the sky above, come in search of carrion. They descended to peck at the bodies before moving on in search of the next morsel.
“It’s over,” Hiro said.
A large cloud of dust moved slowly away from the field. Steissen’s intervention had put the battle back on imperial footing. Word was that Six Kingdoms’ commander had been wounded and forced to retreat.
“Now we just have to trust that she can do her part...although I’m sure she’ll have no problem with that.”
He turned. Nearby, Luka was looking around guardedly, Huginn cradled in her arms. The black-clad troops of the Crow Legion also stood nearby. At last, he looked down at his feet, where three Spiritblades protruded from the earth. He felt a fiery zeal from each of them. All three burned with a fierce will.
“I’ve kept my word, Scáthach.”
With a wave of his hand, the Spiritblades vanished, gone from the world without a trace. He rose to his feet and turned to the imperial troops.
“All will be one, Liz.”
He turned his back and strode away. Where his path led, there was no telling, but it had been a long one indeed. A fall breeze caressed his cheek, setting his mantle beating at the air.
“Now only Lævateinn remains.”
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