Epilogue

They married out on the open plain so his people might attend, as well as the many guests from Acca.

Amelia beamed with pride as did Fionna's grandmother. Even Silia appeared pleased for once. It might have had to do with her catching Fionna vomiting.

"You're pregnant!" Silia had exclaimed.

Fionna's first impulse? Deny. Only she realized she couldn't remember her last menses and it would explain her current fatigue and swollen breasts.

After that Silia couldn't have been any nicer. After all, Fionna carried her grandchild. The next possible heir to Srayth if a son. Perhaps a future queen if a daughter.

As for Kormac, the man strutted. He did it so well.

Life was good, and a few weeks after they married, the journal that had been stolen turned up, not in Loff's things, but in the stable in a saddlebag buried under some hay. While Fionna knew much of the story already, she didn't know the gut-wrenching emotion Airiok suffered.

He'd loved Laurella.

Loved her even as he saw the evil influencing her.

She was the one to say, " Koschei can't be allowed to flourish." She cast the spell that encased her and the evil spirit in glass, a living statue that slowly died.

It crushed Airiok and, determined no one should ever have to deal with that pain again or the horror that was Koschei, he set out to conquer all the territories, because only then could he ensure the eradication of magic. Ensure that his wife's tomb would never be disturbed.

Fionna submitted a full account of events to the Mystic Keep's library because while Koschei might have been vanquished, there could be others like him. Other evil spirits waiting for the right conditions to emerge.

Not in Srayth, though, because they had a sorceress who would give her life for love.

Lomar didn't immediately depart for the mist lands. A man would be foolish to enter the unknown without supplies. It led to him wandering the Andeir Mountain line for a few weeks, stopping in at farms and villages, exchanging labor for supplies. It was while he mucked out the stables for an inn that he heard of the warlord and his lady witch being wed.

It made him happy to know they'd found happiness amidst the trouble. He, on the other hand, couldn't seem to find any peace.

His sleep was plagued by nightmares.

His waking hours by guilt.

Eventually his pack bulged, and he could delay no more. He headed for the Risead Pass, but had to be cautious. The garrison had new troops guarding it, alert men who might have noticed Lomar if not for the heavy snowstorm that obscured his passage. Within the gash, he noticed they'd cleared the rock fall in the pass and used the stone to brick in the cave.

He exited the rift in the mountain to see a valley of mist, a mist so thick he couldn't see even a hint of a treetop. Silence also prevailed. No birds. No buzzing. Nothing but a heavy, blanketing fog.

Lomar didn't look back as he stepped down off the mountain. Shoulders back and head high, he walked into the mist.

I'm not quite sure we're done with this world. Poor Lomar. Banished. Broken. Can he find redemption in the land beyond the mountains in the mist?