A Goodbye to Calamity.
This is how the Story Ends.
Avalir cracks at the seams foundations laid generations before vibrating with the deep tonal cry of the Astral Leywright and the Furious Cries of the world's eldest Rulers. The grand statue of Imyr cracks at the ankles, toppling into the city below. Ash and fire erupt into the sky, funneled up and away, and as it does so, Exandria too cracks at the base.
She doesn't exist now, survived by her Son.
Cerrit climbs, fighting as he never had before, racing towards the sun with an outstretched arm as the shadows and heat boil up around him, furious voices screaming in the cloying smoke, as spread out beneath cracks dance upon the earth like ripples on a pond.
One amongst many legends.
Breath hitching, Purvan Suul pushes his way out of the rubble. Hunting frantically, he finds his companion's furred back and draws him free. Galdric snarls, coughs, and stands, following his master's gaze up towards the horizon. Haloed by the rising sun, the Lord of the Hells' snarling laugh worms into his brain. His immense scythe rises, the backswing cascading a torrent of fire down across the breadth of his home. Vasselheim is burning. The Ruiner rises like a peak behind his brother, entire building disappearing into his mammoth maw. It is the end of the world. Purvan rests his hand over his pendant and closes his eyes as the scythe falls. A thunderous chime shakes him from the moment, and as he cracks upon his eyes, shadowing the city, an immense axe had parried the blow. He turns, and amongst the blessed gardens of the Wildmother, the Lawbearer stands, her stern gaze burrowing into her lost siblings. Beside her, the First of Dragons stands, platinum scales gleaming from within, his four burning eyes turning to glare at the Ruiner with fury and grief. The Prime had come to Vasselheim. Stirred by their presence Purvan takes up his bow, an arrow finding a K'nauthi neck as Galdric howls to the heavens. Fate's Hand was at play.
The Last Eye of Avalir soars, older, scarred, shoulder to shoulder with his Children, the light of the smoke choked dawn briefly glinting on the large brass ring he wears over his heart. Kir, his face set in a long practiced scowl, hawks already ready to fly as they race towards the meeting. Maya's eyes are trained on the horizon, his bright young girl now a young woman with the drive to catalog all the ages within the Will of his long-lost friend. The Orb hovers about, and his eyes flick briefly to the Cobalt Eye that rests upon her forehead. Together they hunt, scouring the dark places, seeking the hidden clues, working to scour the rubble for all that could be rescued or preserved. He looks up, the warped form of Aeor growing closer and closer. The Shadow Grows. The Truth Must be Found.
Elias Alterra Ilerez, the Starbearer, draws his blade, the feathered blade gleaming with internal stars as once more the damned followers of his father's captor seek to snuff out his life.
A desperate young man, marked by the Blightstar and blessed of three, raises his spear, parrying the God of Destruction and falling far below for his effort. Yet, the Doom of Domunas is not joined by the Massacre of Marquet.
Deep below ground, the One Who Called finally founds One Who Will Listen in Leylas Kryn.
Isn't it Lovely?
Cerrit falls to the ground, emaciated and wind-worn, his wife and children racing to embrace him, tears falling freely as above them, the Last of Domunas begin to descend again to Exandria Firma, even as the Ash of their Homeland still rains from the sky.
Isn't it Funny?
Nydas laughs darkly as he realizes no one will ever see the Hoard again and how just an hour before, he slaughtered a man over their blind desire.
Isn't it Cruel?
Laerryn feels the ground shatter beneath her feet as her life's work keens its song to the sky, and the scene of the tree ripping open at her attack plays before her eyes once more.
And Aren't I a Fool?
Zerxus bends the knee and bows his head. At his left Vespin, at his right a red-haired Drow Woman with too many arms. The Lord of the Hells reaches down and tips his chin up, and once more, Zerxus is forced to see his Husband's face. His weapon coos in delight at the attention.
To Happily Listen, Happily Stay,
Quay smiles, clutching Laerryn to him, thinking of what would have happened had he stepped over the threshold into the arms of his Queen and casts the thought aside, hugging his beloved tighter even as the world goes dark around them.
Watching Them Drift...
The web of fire grows, spreading across Toramunda and then all of Domunas.
Gold and Silver threads knot across Exandria.
Drift...
In the air far above, the survivors watch as their home, and all the unknowing people upon it shatter beneath tearing earth, bellowing fire, and boiling waves.
Drift...
The threads become bars, a cage of cosmic energy with the world nestled safely within.
Drift Away.
The survivors turn to each other, their fragile hope fighting to stay together in the face of the growing cloud on the horizon, swallowing the sun in its billowing embrace.
Patia turns away, and the familiar stranger places her mask back atop her face. A cold yet comforting hand rests on her shoulder and ushers her on. Into the Unknown, and how she hated not knowing things.