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EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

V

amilion walked through the winter above the mountains and pounded on Owailion’s door with a fist. He alone would make this trek, for someone had to do it. Someone had to get through to his old mentor that the world still needed him. And besides, he had a gift to bring the hermit of the north.

He should have known better than to believe that Owailion would open his door for him. Vamilion crafted his own door through the stone wall and walked into the warm environment on the other side where the King of Creating did his magic tinkering. Vamilion wove his way through the growing mess of broken projects and then to the inner door of the palace and let himself in. The cold, icy world was reflected in the gray and misty inside of Owailion’s palace. No one met him here either, but that didn’t matter. Vamilion had only come to deliver good news. The King of Creating probably didn’t keep an eye on the rest of the Wise Ones or the Land, and this kind of news should be delivered in person.

“I care,” Owailion snarled into Vamilion’s mind but didn’t bother actually making an appearance.

Vamilion had expected some reluctance, so he didn’t anticipate his old mentor doing more than ignoring him. “Well, then I have news. We have found the King of the Plains, and the Queen of Growing Things. He is going by the name of Yeolani, which is his real name. He’s an idiot for doing so, but I can’t talk him out of it. Maybe he’ll use another name with regular people, but with Wise Ones, he insists. She is going by Rashel.”

“I heard.”

“They’re going to go slow with magic for a few years, build up a town they have founded called Halfway. It’s out in the middle of the plains. There’s a great big tree there now, made like the Talismans. The two of them will stay there to help the settlers until their son is raised, but they have already helped us repel two invasions. You should come out and meet them.”

When that news got no response, Vamilion sighed and finally turned to leave again, not looking forward to a long walk back to the mountains from this summer-forsaken land nearly at the top of the world. Then he added one more piece.

“And the King of the Plains has encountered something he has named a Siren, a lady made of the mist, with coppery hair. The Siren lives in the marshes of the Lara River. She magically lured him in and almost drowned him.”

For the longest time, Vamilion let his message hang in the chilly air, knowing it would have special meaning to the first Wise One. When Vamilion turned for the door, he finally heard a comment from the King of Creating.

“A son? And a Siren? Perhaps I will come.”

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