Epilogue

The sun rose over Berevar’s Ahyark Tundra, oblivious to the devastation that had taken place beneath the moon’s silver glare. Great eagles launched from the snow peak eyries and descended silently down to the plains below in search of game. The giants stirred from their slumber deep beneath the mountains and sang songs of yesterday, feeling the dawn of a new age in the stone all around them. The orcs marched east to where the frozen rivers of old gathered into the ice plateaus where they held their moots. Shamans from across the kingdom conversed with ancestors and united the tribes in a common cause – celebration of the commune from the Old Gods that they slept no longer.

The remaining henges, teeth like spires surrounding a gaping maw of pure magic shattered all at once. Light rocketed skyward, venting the spirits of the Old Gods and in their wake, nine birds fluttered into the golden glow of daylight. One by one they disappeared into the horizon and returned to their ancestral seats of power. Old, crumbling shrines revealed themselves as ice thawed and landslides crumbled. Fae and fickle feline creatures gathered around the shrines and bowed. Bird song, for the first time in centuries filled the morning air with joy and the faint promise of a spring soon to arrive.

Berevar, the land of eternal winter, found itself on the slow march into spring.