An epilogue for Traitor. The final end. I'm 99 percent sure there will not be a sequel. Sorry, but I don't have the time anymore. Anyway, tell me what you think.
Reviewers:
TheImmortalWeapon: Here you go! The epilogue is finally here! Sorry for the delay!
I'm Rat: I think it would be awesome as well, and you have no idea how much I want to, but I really don't have time. Ugh! I can think of so many things I would do with it too!
IronFistRocks: Here you are, I hope you like it!
wordjumble29: I'm very glad I was able to get such a good reaction out of people. That's my goal in everything I write, to make people feel stuff. Sorry, but the sequel probably won't happen, and if it ever does, you'll have to wait a pretty long time. Far was my favorite character, Rest In Piece.
And there won't be my customary author's note at the end, because I want this to have full impact, so I'll do this now:
Wolf out...
It is dark out. Five young adults sit in a cold metal ship. Broken wires and computer parts still litter the floor. A 20 year old man with parted brown hair and blue eyes is telling half of a story.
It started with loss...
When he finishes, another man with longer, blond hair will add his half, with help from the raven-haired girl at his shoulder. They are not married, nor even engaged. But they co-rule a kingdom in the Chinese mountains.
Then came love...
Two more men sit in grim silence. Their eyes are moist with tears, but they do not speak much anymore. A larger, darker man with black sunglasses on the floor next to him. And a short dark-haired man with tired eyes and tan skin hanging with grief.
And happiness like none before...
Tears are flowing down the girl's face. She is listening to the brunette boy tell about quarantines and fear. He speaks of a full city made into a ghost town, for no one risked going out. He sighs finally, and recounts how more people died of starvation and thirst than sickness, for no one shopped or ran businesses or shipped anything anymore.
But happiness can't last forever...
He next speaks of the girl he so admired. A girl with hair the color of autumn and a personality the color of a wildfire. Her name had been Ava. But now her name is but a whisper in the wind for she is dead as New York's high population. 10 million left, give or take. To its previous 19 million. But even that is more than the blond boy's city. The home of the sickness, and birth place of his love. The deathbed of his friend.
Then came the disease...
There. The brunette boy is finished with his side of the story. Now the blond boy begins. He starts with news of his home. Rebuilding is going well. There is no cure for the disease yet. But it seems to have faded from his city. The remaining fifty people are healthy if scarred. And they are very eager to help. The brown-headed boy smiles with lips that used to be so full of mirth, but are now fickle things that seem too weak to bear the weight of the smallest grin.
And fear. Everywhere...
He interrupts and says he hasn't seen any more signs of disease in New York either. The men nod in relief. So much older than they should be. So grown up. The large boy speaks finally. He rubs his sunglasses nervously. The lenses are cracked and dusty. From the days when he wore a guise to hide his good doings, but in a broken city there is no point. There are more important issues. And people no longer trust masked vigilantes.
Metal masks and guilt...
He speaks hoarsely, addressing the young king. Do you think it's really gone, he asks. The girl speaks for her lover. Maybe, she says, hopefully. The blond boy continues. He tells of camps and confusion and little darts that killed on target. He tells of old enemies and old brothers. His every word carries death on its shoulders.
A little girl's rants before she was gassed...
The smaller boy shivers. His bright eyes once held mischief and wonder, but are now worn and tattered, like a broken toy. He listens but refuses to speak. His voice lost its wings long ago, and no longer soars from his mouth like a wave. A tear rolls down his face. Everyone he loves will die. He thinks that as he listens. Or go missing. He thinks that, too.
And then came an arrival of one thought deceased...
The blond boy is almost finished. He stumbles as he relives the stabbing of the snow-haired boy. His name was Far. Much like his soul is now. Traveling home to be with his mother. The story ends in a final bloody stanza. The young king shakes but doesn't cry. He used his tears up long ago.
And the release of a broken bird...
Everyone is silent for a long while. They talk again, in quiet murmurs. New Yorkers are entering the streets again, slowly. Kun'Lunians are rebuilding a town that stood for a thousand years, slowly. And everyone agrees that things will get better. Slowly.
A journey back to battered friends...
It's time to go. The blond boy and his love are leaving. They've been here for a day. Their pilot made it clear he would not wait any longer. They stand and say their goodbyes. They don't know when their next meeting will be. Before they exit the ship, the larger boy calls out and runs to his golden haired friend. Again, he twirls the glasses in his fingers. I want you to have these, he says, to remember the good times. The blond boy grins, a glimpse of his old self. He takes the glasses and carefully puts them on. Both boys laugh. Then the blond boy takes out a small box full of holes. For you and Peter, he smiles. The other boy opens the box to find a small white bunny. Take care of it, and show it to Sam when it's ready. Then the blond boy leaves with the girl.
It ended with death and stories and hope...