Epilogue

It was cloudy. There were hints of light-pink and baby-blue. It felt comforting. After a life of combat and grief, this felt right. Thalorian didn’t quite know where he was. Perhaps it was the Dream. Maybe he had died. As Thalorian pondered these choices a figure stepped up from behind him.

“Hello dragon,” it said. Thalorian looked up from his feet, the figure was crystalline in nature, with white slicked back hair. It was wearing a white robe with black spots and a cream outline. Crawling down its neck were black and red streaks. Its eyes were a warm black with iridescent red pupils. There were markings on its body, angular black lines. In its hand was a golden staff embroidered with gems. Around it was an aura of mana.

“Hello?” Thalorian said, curious, “am I dead?”

“No,” it swiftly responded, “you are close however.” It stretched its arms wide, “I am Haveniririon, god of life and death, I am here to give you two things.”

“No,” Thalorian replied, “I don’t need anything, I killed Jiyoda out of my own free will, I wasn’t expecting any sort of party or celebration.”

“Too bad,” Haveniririon said. “I wish you’d listen.” Haveniririon looked back at him, “They’re quite good offers.”

“Fine. If you’re so insistent on giving me something, what is it?” he asked.

Haveniririon looked pleased “The first one is simple, the regeneration and revival of the people harmed by Jiyoda’s possession. All the people harmed by his malice would come back,” he said.

Thalorian cut him off, “Would that include Elben and Haverian?” he asked.

“No, sadly not, they are beyond death now, they can never return to this sad world,” he said. “But the next offering might help you cope.”

“Well? Spit it out.”

“Varelion. I’m bringing back Varelion and its people. We destroyed it because of you, but seeing it can produce more than monsters, such as yourself, we’re bringing it back.”

“So I’m the reason we died, and the reason we came back, huh,” Thalorian muttered. “But who would be the Crown?” Thalorian inquired.

Haveniririon looked happy that Thalorian had asked that, “You know him, he is the rightful heir to the throne of Varelion, it’s Draylum Von Forensberg!” said Haveniririon, as if he was an announcer.

Thalorian was unamused, “But he’s a slime.”

Haveniririon dawned a sly look, “That can change.” Haveniririon reached out his hand, “do you agree?”

Thalorian sighed, and reached out his own hand, “Fine,” said Thalorian. As Thalorian shook the god’s hand the world around him rippled and shook, until it took the form of what Yoru had called a hospital.

Limiria was sitting next to his bed and Yoru was next to it. Despite what had happened Thalorian felt happy to know that he was surrounded by family. Maybe this is the fabled life? Thalorian wondered.