60. Epilogue

Danai

I climbed the snow-capped peaks, staff in hand, boots vanishing with each stride. My once-lustrous mane was now matted against my head and neck.

I had searched the mountains for weeks, weeks of frigid cold and endless snow. And yet, my shadowy coat still flared to a robed bottom with unmarred perfection. Its golden buttons glittered as if newly polished. The cold dared not touch my skin.

I had fled Irina’s camp the night the missive was sent to the Triad regarding their people’s evacuation. Irina was many things, but stupid was not one of them. She would know someone had betrayed her. She might never be able to prove my guilt, but that would not stop her ire—or her flame.

I had ever been her ally, her one staunch friend in a world that had turned its back on her dreams. There was a time when I longed for more.

And yet, in the last weeks, I had come to see clearly.

Irina had no family.

She had no friends.

I was as disposable as the rest of them.

And so, I had fled.

I reached the peak of the second highest of the Silver Mountains and drew in the crisp, clean air. The view was magnificent. To the south, Saltstone still smoldered, though most of the fires had long since been extinguished. The city was a charcoal smear on a canvas of white. To the east and west, unmarred fields covered in snow spanned as far as I could see. My northern view was blocked by the range’s tallest peak, but I imagined the peaceful rolling of the ocean some leagues away. I knew I would need to return home, but the moment of nature’s perfect peace settled my troubled spirit.

A few moments later, resolved to begin my return, I took the first steps down the other side of the mountain. A gleam from the lowest limb of the only stray tree brave enough to grow that high caught my eye.

I waded across the ocean of snow and gaped.

For a thousand years, I served others. I answered their calls. I carried out their commands. While I had enjoyed a measure of power and influence, I had never truly ruled.

I often wondered what a crown might feel like on my brow, how I might wield such power if the Spirits placed it in my hands. As I stood and stared at the blood-gemmed crown, my mind raced at the future now within my grasp.

I reached out and gripped my prize.

The dented gold and silver could be easily repaired, but the jewels were irreplaceable. As diamonds, they were also indestructible. My grin broadened as I watched them glow and pulse.

All seven, perfectly intact.

Seven diamonds with seven souls.

One crown with one purpose.