Epilogue: Exile and Homecoming

Arthas had come to a ledge overlooking the World Tree and see Archimonde scaling it. At that moment he'd known that he would be too late to interfere. Thus he had dismounted and set his blade on the ground to watch the end of all things. He'd seen as Archimonde was surrounded by spirits. He'd been horrified as Archimonde defeated their assault. Finally, he'd been amazed as a still living Illidan drove his blade into Archimonde's foot.

The resulting explosion cast the needles from every pine. It blackened the trees around with a wave of fire and shook the ground beneath his feet. The World Tree was for a moment surrounded by a forest of flame. Then it and Archimonde exploded in a brilliant flash of light.

Arthas was thrown from his feet by the backlash. Invincible neighed, rearing up on his hind legs before racing off.

For a moment Arthas lay there, stunned. He pulled himself up and saw the blackened remnants of the World Tree. Archimonde was gone, and the night was falling upon the world. The moon and stars were covered by clouds. Soon it was dark. The world had been saved.

Illidan had been down there.

Arthas made his way down into the blackened woods, seeking his friend. Yes, his friend, he'd felt a connection with the elf. He'd enjoyed their back and forth talk. Now he was dead. As he trudged through the ashes, he realized that victory was his. Victory belonged to the world. Yet it was a bitter one indeed, for all around the world the land had been tainted and blighted. Many mothers mourned lost sons and daughters. Many fathers would never return home to their families.

It was soon pitch black, and he could see ahead of him by a foot. He took to his feet so as to not miss anything, and groped in the darkness.

'Illidan!' he called. 'Illidan can you hear me?!'

No one answered. This was ridiculous, Illidan was dead! If Archimonde could not survive the explosion of the World Tree, what hope did the Demon Hunter have? Even so, Arthas pressed on, seeking at least his body. At the very least he could make sure he wasn't left out for the crows to feast on. In time the stars came out, by their light, he was able to see a bit better.

He called again and again until his hand fell over a familiar weapon. Drawing up Frostmourne from where he had fallen, he realized he had scaled to very near where he had been before. It was unharmed.

'Light,' he said, 'I have never been one for prayer. However if this once I could save someone… I need to do this, or I will die again. Like at Stratholme.'

Arthas made his way through the darkness, feeling bitter and exhausted. He came to the roots and picked his way amongst them. He might find a body if the roots had survived the explosion.

'You took your time, Death Knight.' snapped a cynical voice from above.

'Illidan?!' asked Arthas, looking up.

There he was, lying within the roots of the World Tree, or what was left of it. He was burned, and bleeding, and looked in a foul temper. Arthas ran to him and kneeled down by him. 'How did you survive? I mean-'

'After I stabbed Archimonde I hid within the roots.' hissed Illidan. 'Then I wielded its power to create a defensive shield.'

'You knew how to control the World Tree's energies?' asked Arthas. 'How?'

'The World Tree was grown over a pool which was infused with water from the Well of Eternity.' said Illidan. 'And I am the one who made it. The power in this tree was mine by right if you must know. If I have used some small measure of its power to my own benefit before my brother destroyed it, I am more than entitled.'

'Fair enough.' said Arthas, before beginning to cast healing magic on him.

'You have put that sword to good use.' said Illidan. 'I doubt it could have found a better wielder.'

'Well, I suppose that is something.' said Arthas. 'What are you going to do now?'

'I mean to finish the work which I began with the death of Archimonde.' said Illidan. 'When I destroyed the Skull of Gul'dan I also gained access to Gul'dan's memories. I know where it was that he sought a power far greater than anything you have yet seen. I will use this power to destroy the Legion, once and for all.'

'That's rather ambitious,' noted Arthas, 'you might need help.'

'There are other powers in this world whose assistance I might seek.' said Illidan. 'Powers that have not yet shown themselves above the waves. You are, of course, welcome to join me.'

'I might take you up on that.' said Arthas, finishing the healing process. 'Still, there are things I need to see to first, my Kingdom for one.'

'Take your time.' said Illidan. 'I am in no particular hurry.'

For a time they rested beneath the roots of the World Tree, not speaking. It was over. At last, it was over.

Arthas awoke from a sleep he did not know he had taken to find that the light of dawn was rising over the horizon. lllidan was gone. Picking himself up, he made his way down the roots, and then he saw something which amazed him. The roots were regrowing in the early light of morning. And it was not just that. All across the blackened forest, he saw tree regrowing — their scorched bark healing with unnatural swiftness. Birds were already returning to this desecrated place. Druids could be seen working their magic to speed the process.

Arthas made his way away from that place, to a high place far from the World Tree. There he saw Medivh standing upon the edge of the cliff, his brown cloak flowing in the wind. He looked forlorn but hopeful. He looked like a figure straight out of myth.

'The roots will heal in time.' said Medivh. 'As will the entire world. The sacrifices have been made. Just as the orcs, humans and night elves discarded their old hatred and stood united against a common foe, so did nature herself rise up, to banish the shadow forever.

'As for me, I came back to ensure that there would be a future. To teach the world that it no longer needed guardians. The hope for future generations has always resided in mortal hands.' He turned around. 'And now that my task is done, I will take my place amongst the legends of the past.'

In a myth, this would be where the story ended. In tales told by future generations, this pretty speech would be made. The storyteller would end there, perhaps alluding to future adventures. The audience would walk away satisfied. Yet this wasn't a story. Arthas wasn't the audience. And after everything that had happened, he was anything but satisfied.

He'd done many great and terrible things for the greater good, and perhaps he'd do them again. However, what he said here was for himself.

'Fuck you, Medivh.' said Arthas Menethil, Prince of Lordaeron.

Medivh blinked and looked unsure of himself. 'I… didn't see this.'

'What did you expect?!' roared Arthas. 'My kingdom is in ashes! My people are besieged by undead! The Dreadlords still rule my capital; my Father and Mentor are both dead by my hand! The latter of whose ghost still hates me from beyond the grave. And that's not even accounting for the atrocities which even now resound across the world!

'No longer needs guardians?! We need them now more than ever! Of course, your speech implies that the guardians were of any help at all in the past! They weren't! Your mother let Sageras into the world through you! You let the orcs into the world through Gul'dan! The orcs brought ruin to many towns through the red dragon flight! And that's not even getting into what you are responsible for through inaction!

'What if you had told my father the plague's true nature?! He would have quarantined the region, and none of this would have been necessary! And for what?! So a secretive order of guardians had a master plan to inflict mass casualties on the Burning Legion! for the greater good!'

'I thought we already discussed this.' said Medivh in a tired tone. 'The fall of Lordaeron and everything else was an unfortunate tragedy. But it was necessary. Those that died did so for a greater purpose.'

'The Culling of Stratholme was an unfortunate tragedy that was necessary.' said Arthas. 'I didn't posture to my men about how wonderful it was that we'd slaughtered all those innocent people.

'I didn't do that because I hadn't done anything to be proud of.

'Just like you have done nothing to be proud of. You have watched innocent people die when you could have saved them. That is your legacy, Medivh. The legacy of our so-called guardians, whatever long term benefits the world might reap. Everything else was somebody else's work!'

Medivh was, for the first time since Arthas had seen him, speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but there was nothing to say. And yet it wasn't enough for Arthas. It would never be enough. For he was now thinking about all the people he had killed, all the people he had watched die, helpless to save them.

Finally, Medivh looked down at the ground and cast his staff into the dirt. 'I'm dying, Arthas. Forgive me if I want to feel as though I have done something worthwhile with what little time I had.'

'What?' said Arthas, shaken from his anger.

Medivh walked forward without further words, leaving his staff behind him. Arthas found he could not leave things like this, and followed after him. Medivh moved with determined strides. Arthas could not catch up with him. At last, the Prophet halted within a little glade. There was a moonwell, and its crystalline waters reflecting the sunlight.

'It's ironic,' said Medivh, 'I have seen many futures, so many I cannot remember them all. I have watched universes where Archimonde departed this world freely. Where he reformed the Legion for the better. Yet no matter what the future, it always ends here. I always die.'

'I'm sorry.' said Arthas. 'I… you did make a difference. I was speaking in anger.'

'Believe it was far preferable to some universes.' said Medivh with a bitter smile. 'There are worlds where you stab me to death for the exact reasons you have said now. But he always overtakes me here, in this place. The strands of fate have a sense of humor; it seems.' He gasped and fell to one knee.

Arthas kneeled by him. 'I can heal you-'

'This is not an injury that can be healed, young Prince.' said Medivh. 'And in any case. I deserve it. For more reasons than you have stated. Did you know that I drained my own apprentice's life force to gain this time of life? I turned him into an old man before his time, to escape a fate which was justly mine.

'Now… that life force is returning to him.

'After my initial death, I fled to the Caverns of Time seeking immortality.' He said 'There I beheld many futures and gained the sight, and through it, I beheld my own failure, my own folly. In some futures, I strove to avoid it, but here… here I accepted it.' He gasped, clutching his heart. 'There is one other thing…'

'Yes?' asked Arthas.

'If you can find the caverns of time, they might hold a means by which Theramore can be saved.' said Medivh. 'My sight becomes distant after today.' Then he landed on his knees, and his entire body became ethereal, his very form was wavering like water. 'Farewell, young Prince, I wish that I might have saved your land…'

Suddenly he fell forward, and his cloak hit the ground empty. There was nothing within them. A gust of wind blew through the grove, sending the cloak flowing away in the wind.

'Farewell, Medivh.' said Arthas, feeling very bitter. 'May you find peace in whatever new life awaits you.'

As he stood there, he suddenly heard voices, though he could not find their source. One of them was his own. 'I dearly hope there is a special place in hell waiting for you Arthas!'

'We may never know Uther. I intend to live forever.'

Once more, he was alone. He turned and made his way into the trees.

In the aftermath of the death of Archimonde, no one knew quite what to do with themselves. Their victory had been so unexpected that for a few minutes people just stood where they were. Eventually, the soldiers began to rest, and tell stories with one another. And all praised the valor of Illidan, and to a lesser extent Arthas. Except for the Alliance, of course.

Almost as soon as people had recovered from things. However, orcs and night elves began to remember their scores against each other. Fearing that things might get out of hand, Warchief Thrall had taken his forces and promised future negotiations to discuss a formal end to their conflict. It was the best that could have been managed on such short notice. The Alliance and Horde had worked together for an entire campaign. So their hatreds had been dimmed. Yet until a few days ago, the night elves and orcs had been hated enemies.

Parting with mutual respect was an accomplishment in itself.

For their part Jaina and Tyrande walked amidst the trees, speaking of many things. Mostly Jaina would ask questions of Tyrande regarding the history of her people. She asked about the Well of Eternity and many other things, and the Priestess would answer as best she could. Jaina had a certain thirst for knowledge which reminded Tyrande of Illidan long ago. She found herself growing rather fond of the girl.

'Tell me,' said Tyrande, 'why is it that you have such interest in our history, girl?'

'I like learning.' said Jaina. 'My master Antonidas, he always used to tell me that no day is a complete waste if you learn something new from it. I… I don't even know if he's alive or dead at this point.

'I left before the attack on Dalaran. Given that Archimonde came into the world-'

'He is alive.' said a sardonic voice. Arthas entered the grove, and Tyrande's tiger bristled behind her. Tyrande scratched it behind the ears to calm it.

'Arthas…' said Jaina.

'At least I think he is.' continued Arthas. 'I managed to regain enough control of my will to spare him, and most of Dalaran. Unfortunately, Archimonde wrecked the place. So he might have died when the Violet Citidel was destroyed.' There was silence. 'Medivh is dead. Whatever spell bound him to this world faded, and he turned to dust before my eyes.'

'I see.' said Jaina. 'That's… sad.' Tyrande felt little at that revelation; she had barely known the man. 'You are terrible at apologies; you know that.'

'It wouldn't have any meaning in the first place.' said Arthas. 'I regret what I did, but I cannot take it back.'

'Then why are you here?' asked Jaina finally.

'I don't really know.' admitted Arthas. 'I thought I might inform you of my plans for the future before I went to enact them. I feel I owe you that much.'

'Which are?' asked Jaina.

'I intend to return to Lordaeron.' said Arthas. 'And reclaim my Kingdom.'

'Arthas,' said Jaina, 'I think the chances of that happening are… look it's a terrible plan alright. Why don't you stay with me? We can… we can build a new life!'

'That is not an option.' said Arthas 'I will not leave my ancestral lands in the hands of Dreadlords. I will return and destroy them. From there… I'm not sure. I suppose once I become the dominant power in Lordaeron, I'll have to restore order.

'I'll try to avoid fighting the Alliance if I can, but I doubt they will let me take back control so easily.' He paused. 'I guess you'll have your hands full here, rooting out the remnants of the demons.'

'Don't remind me.' said Jaina. 'The cleanup for this mess could last years. And I'll have to negotiate with the Horde and the Barrens Alliance.' She paused and looked to Tyrande. 'Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of your people and mine forming an Alliance.'

'Why would you want us?' asked Tyrande.

'Well…' Jaina paused, 'let's just say I don't see the peace with the orcs lasting forever, and I'd like to have an ally. I mean I doubt Thrall will start anything, but no one lives forever.

'It will benefit you as well of course. If you were unaligned, then the Horde could focus all their power on your nation alone. On the other hand, if you were part of the Alliance, then the Horde would have to declare war on all of us as well. Which means they would be fighting a two-front war.

'It would make a more aggressive Warchief think twice about things.'

'Your words hold some wisdom.' said Tyrande .'I will think carefully on them.'

'Right,' said Jaina, 'well when you decide you can find us on an island east of Duskwallow Marsh.'

'Duskwallow Marsh?' asked Tyrande, having not the faintest idea what she was talking about.

'Oh right, I named it.' said Jaina. 'Look I'll show you where it is on a map. The island is called Theramore; I'm planning to make a new home for my people there.'

At the mention of that name, Arthas went very white. 'You might want to set up some serious defenses.' he said. 'A fort on the borders, something very formidable.'

'We're still working all that out.' said Jaina.

They fell silent for a time as they made their way through the woods. At last, they came to the camp where everyone was waiting. There they found Illidan, sitting upon a fallen log in meditation. He looked oddly peaceful, more at peace than they had ever seen him. Before he had always been coiled for a spring, yet now he was resting.

A Druid of the Claw approached Illidan. 'Illidan, the council of druids will speak with you now.'

'Then I will not keep my brother waiting.' said Illidan, before walking past him.

'What is happening?' asked Tyrande.

'Shan'do Stormrage is calling a meeting of the Druids to pass judgment on the Betrayer.' said the Druid. 'His freedom was granted under circumstances outside of the law of Cenarius. Thus it must be reviewed by the Druids. You are welcome to observe.'

A mere formality, but Tyrande supposed it ought to be done if only to maintain the rule of law. With Cenarius dead, a pillar of night elven society had been removed. Much would have to change, and some things must be kept the same.

It was a great assembly. Illidan stood at the cent of several half circles of druids. His calm was evaporating to irritation. Jaina didn't blame him. If she had saved the world from Archimonde and survived, she'd want congratulations. Not to be called in for a lawsuit she wouldn't have been in a particularly good mood either.

Malfurion Stormrage was speaking with some other Druids. After a time he approached Illidan alone, looking very conflicted. For a moment he was silent. Then, with effort, he spoke. 'You've done it. I… I did not think any living being capable of achieving what you have and living to tell about it. You've saved all of Azeroth, and many other worlds besides that.

'I… I was wrong, brother. The words of Tyrande, spoken in anger, have proven wiser than my own.'

Illidan took a step backward. His expression looked shocked, and he opened his mouth to speak. Yet no words came out, and in his face, Jaina saw loneliness and vulnerability long concealed. Then Malfurion continued.

'That is what makes this all the more difficult.' The Archdruid said. 'I… can you conceive of what will happen once word of your achievements spreads? You, a wielder of fel magic, will have defeated one of the most powerful demons ever to live. Tales will be told of your deeds; people will want to meet you, speak to you.

'Know how you did it.

'Cenarius is dead, Illidan. The pillar upon which our society has rested for ten thousand years has been destroyed. Change is inevitable, even necessary, but… but not all change is good. After your triumph here… people will want to become like you. And with our recent alliance with the humans…

They may start trying to learn magic! We have just finally escaped from the grip of the Legion; we can't let you lead our people back to their teachings. You've saved us. But you'll destroy the very foundation of our society.

I'm sorry. However, the Druids have decided. Regardless of my personal feelings, I cannot defy them in this. You are a hero. And you must leave.

'Furion,' said Tyrande, 'you cannot simply-'

'The decision is made!' snapped Malfurion. 'I…' He reached forward with one hand. 'I banish you from Ashenvale, on pain of death.'

In an instant, Illidan's vulnerability turned to a snarling hatred, and he rose up to his full height. Jaina thought for a moment that he would kill the Archdruid where he stood. But he mastered himself, and his hatred was hidden from sight. He looked over each of the Druids in turn, as though memorizing their faces.

'Very well, brother.' he said, voice holding unfathomable hatred.

And he turned away without a word. He walked away alone from a group of people who he had saved. Jaina thought she had never seen a more tragic figure. 'If you want my personal opinion.' Jaina said. 'That was disgraceful.'

'This is not your concern, girl.' said Malfurion.

'He saved all of us.' said Jaina, and she would have said more. Yet there didn't seem to be anything left to say, nothing that could be stated diplomatically.

Many of the night elves seemed to share her views, and there were angry mutterings from every faction. On an impulse, Jaina turned and made after Illidan. She did not know the man well, but she could not bear to let things end on that note. He walked quickly, and she had difficulty catching up with him. In time, he halted as she approached. 'What do you want sorceress?'

'I…' Jaina paused, trying to think of something to say, 'you are a very effective demon hunter. I appreciate the help you were. I was wondering if you might be interested in employment.'

Illidan looked up in surprise. 'What interest do you have in me?'

'Well, the Alliance and Horde are going to have to hunt down the remaining demons sooner or later.' said Jaina. 'The last thing we need is a repeat of this fiasco. You could be a great deal of help.'

'Myself and the death knight have other business we must attend to.' said Illidan. 'There is an artifact on an island far from here we must recover.'

'Well I could help with that.' said Jaina, more determined than ever to get him to stay. 'I mean, I have contacts in the Alliance, and we are the biggest seapower in the world right now. Our fleets could deal with any unfortunate incidents at sea.'

'Are you threatening me?' he asked.

Odd that he should have jumped to that conclusion. 'No,' said Jaina, 'I'm just trying to help, alright. See if you stay here for a couple of months, then Arthas will stay there as well. He has good connections with the orcs. He saved them from a blood curse, and he might help smooth some things over. And anyway whatever your plan is, there is no need to rush into it. We may as well secure Kalimdor from the Legion first.'

There was a long silence. 'Very well.' said Illidan. 'I will consider it. What are your thoughts Arthas?'

Jaina turned around with a blush to realize Arthas had made his way up behind her. 'When did you learn to move so quietly?!'

'Somewhere along the line,' mused Arthas, 'from the looks of things you have managed to keep me around a while longer.' Then he looked up. 'My shades tell me that a group of Kul'tiran soldiers is approaching our position. Your Father is with them. I'm going to leave now.'

'That is probably wise.' said Jaina.

Illidan and Arthas stole into the trees, mere moments before the Kul'tirans came into view. Daelin ran to her. 'Jaina, Jaina thank the stars you are alive!'

'Father!' cried Jaina, feeling relieved to see him.

Her relief, however, was tempered. This was going to be one hell of an awkward conversation.

Kil'jaden had received the report from Kirrassan with stony silence. He heard of their utter defeat, of the death of Archimonde. The death of Tichondrius and Mannaroth and so many other valuable resources. He heard how in the aftermath of Mount Hyjal the mortal races parted. Not amicably, but respectfully. There had been no brutal bloodletting to settle old scores, nor a sudden betrayal.

The orcs and humans had packed up and returned to their own lands. Secure in the knowledge that they had saved their world. There had been no final spiteful bloodletting to ruin things. The enemy had won. And Archimonde was dead.

Kil'jaden did not trust himself to speak for a moment. Or for a moment more, and finally he cut the communication without speaking. Archimonde, his oldest and best friend, was dead. It hurt, and it hurt badly. Over the years he had found emotions such as friendship to be more a liability than a use. But he had never thrown away the mutual affection between the two. Neither had Archimonde.

He waited in his office, waiting for something. He could have blown the desk to pieces. He could have leveled the fortress and killed everything in sight. He could have done those things, and indeed he wanted to more than anything.

Yet he didn't. That wasn't his style, and in any case, his resources were limited at the moment. After a moment the door opened, and the blue-clad Mephistroth entered the room. Kil'jaden knew he was terrified out of his mind though he hid it well. And so he should be, for Archimonde would have spared no one for a failure of this totality.

Kil'jaden stood, very calmly. 'It is the opinion of many that you Dreadlords have failed.'

Mephistroth kept his head. 'Lord Kil'jaden, let me explain-'

'No.' said Kil'jaden. 'I have no patience for groveling.' He raised a hand, and the Dreadlord turned a paler shade of white.

'I only ask that I be allowed to explain-' he began.

Kil'jaden reached forward and gripped him by the throat with a spell. The seething anger he felt breaking out. He constricted a tendril of green fel magic around his subordinates neck. 'The Nathrezim's mission was to keep control of the Lich King. To ensure that he did not undermine our war effort. In that, you have failed me. And Archimonde has paid the price for your failure.' He released his grip, and Mephistroth fell to the ground gasping for air. 'Did you misunderstand your mission?

'No Lord Kil'jaden...' said Mephistroth.

Kil'jaden fell to one knee by him. 'Then how do you account for what has happened? We have met utter disaster. Our enemies are united. Our forces crushed. And the Dreadlords who were meant to prevent this very thing have failed.' He arose to his full height. 'Do you understand me, worm?'

'Yes Lord Kil'jaden,' gasped Mephistoth as he stood.

His pride was destroyed. It would be well to build him back up again. 'I am well aware of your quality.' said Kil'jaden. 'You, Anetheron and Tichondrius were among the greatest of my servants once. You have burned many worlds. Because of this, I will pardon your errors in judgment.

'Take what has happened on Azeroth make sure it never happens again.' He turned away. 'Now be gone.'

Mephistroth fled and shut the door behind him. For a moment Kil'jaden remained very still, emotions simmering within him. Then suddenly they boiled over. He grasped his desk and heaved it round to shattered against the wall. Papers and books were sent flying everyone. Roaring in anger, he unleashed a shockwave of dark energy. It consumed everything in sight, reducing everything within the office to ashes.

He would regret this outburst later, but for now, it wasn't enough.

Ner'zhul had escaped him. The Lich King had played him like a violin, deceived the Legion, and gotten away with it. Archimonde had not been able to find him. His armies were shattered. Yes, the Frozen Throne was no more, but it didn't matter. Ner'zhul's spirit was somewhere in Azeroth, laughing at the Legion. Laughing at him.

'He used me!' Kil'jaden roared. 'HE USED!"

Another was of power was unleashed, and the wall exploded outwards. The castle shook with the power which was unleashed. Kil'jaden breathed, his rage expended. Making his way to the edge, Kil'jaden looked upon the red skies of his homeworld. The blighted fields where life was grown only to be drained to death. The cages where prisoners were tormented for the entertainment of the populace. The sun was setting. He watched a city of the Eredar with all its shimmering and proud spires. Kil'jaden regained his composure.

No. No, the Legion was not out of this yet. The Eredar and the Succubi had scarcely been hurt in this war. Other races remained to them to call on. The truce between the Alliance and Horde would not last forever. The Lich King could not evade Kil'jaden's wrath forever. He would see himself avenged tenfold on the Lich King for what he had done on Azeroth. And then Azeroth would die, not a swift death as Archimonde would have given them, but a slow, screaming death.

It was the least he could do for Archimonde's sake.

Author's Note:

And here we have the final chapter, the epilogue. I'll admit I was somewhat unsure of what to do to round things off. This fanfic has been so long in the making that it doesn't seem possible to give everyone a proper sendoff. So I just focused on the characters of the night elf campaign, as well as the overall protagonists.

I kind of feel like the orcs got the shaft here, but oh well. I tried to expand on the final cutscene of Warcraft III. In that, it isn't even clear if the main characters even survived, aside from Tyrande and Malfurion. We had to wait until Frozen Throne to find that out.

The scene with Arthas and Medivh happened because it seemed out of character for Arthas not to call him on it. Medivh's kirk summation might be all well and good for us the players. We have just finished a really awesome game. But Arthas has just had his entire life fall apart. So yeah, he's not buying what Medivh is selling.

On a separate note, Mount Hyjal was the thing which should have made Kil'jaden get a personal vendetta. In the Sunwell Plaza, Kil'jaden tried to enter the world and failed. Big deal, that sort of thing happens all the time to demons. In Mount Hyjal, though, Kil'jaden lost his best friend, as well as some of his best Lieutenants. This is the single greatest defeat the Legion has suffered since the War of the Ancients, even in canon. And here it's even worse.

I've been working on the Mercyverse for so long now; I'm kind of sad to see this section of the story close out. Most of what I planned to happen has already happened, and I've hit most of the notes I wanted to hit. In regards to the possibility of a sequel, it's gonna be awhile. For one thing, things have gone so off the rails that I'll have to adjust my story and figure out what happens next. For another, I mean to at least complete Orcs and Humans before I start on Frozen Throne.

Thanks for reading guys, it's been a blast.