On a quiet knoll, in the depths of the Park, Baron Montgomery Yovir sits down next to his father, and never stands again. He leaves behind him a son, Algernon, now at the helm of one of the most powerful companies in Modnik, with grand ambitions for making it more powerful still. But this is not his concern; he rests, satisfied with his life.
And from between parted blades of grass, one of Tatu watches.
On the site where Babylon once stood, a new restaurant is being constructed: Epilogue. Kara and Kydomela, with the help of Jex, Jax and Jix, pour their hearts into it, preparing the menu, choosing the decorations, telling everyone they can about this wonderful new experience. A buzz of excitement builds around the eventual opening; people stop in the street outside to watch as Jiff lays the foundations, whispering animatedly.
And through a window across the street, one of Tatu watches.
There are weddings. Mirara and Aina, Kara and Kydomela, and many others besides. Weddings are thematic, you suppose: unity in times of discord; the forming of new bonds, when so many old ones have been broken. With every vow spoken, with every soft kiss, with every first dance, Modnik heals.
Good. They will need to work together for what’s to come.
And perched upon bunting, or secreted in a crack in the wall, one of Tatu watches.
Marina stands by a modest gravestone, talking to herself. She’s barely audible over the distant sounds of Tisagday, but the intention is clear. She’s thanking Anton, thanking him for trying, even if he didn’t go about it the right way; for doing his best to keep the story going, and let the people of this world live their lives.
It raises an interesting question: what was Anton’s plan? You have an antagonist now, a waiting threat, sealed away for a thousand years. But Anton wasn’t waiting, or sealed. Neither did he seem to have any particular ambitions, except capturing the Character. With that done, his power cemented - surely he would simply have won, and the story would have ended anyway, with nothing more left to resolve.
And hovering above, listening closely to every word, one of Tatu watches.
A large egg sits on a counter in the kitchen of the Uruk Chai. It wiggles slightly as the sun, rising in the distance, sheds a beam of light onto it. Tiny, almost imperceptible, a crack appears. By mid-afternoon it will run the whole length of the egg; but the cafe is busy today, and Grankdad will be too distracted by serving various concoctions to his customers to notice, until the egg is already hatched, and the beast inside has fled.
Perhaps Anton would have given the Character to Aina, say, to avoid himself becoming too powerful and causing the story to end. But then he’d risk her joining Geroi to overthrow him, and ending the story anyway. Could he ever have accepted that, ever have trusted them enough to do the right thing?
And from behind a cooking-pot, one of Tatu watches.
Hedara plants a sapling in the depths of the Park. By coincidence, it is not too far from where Baron Montgomery laid down to die, although by now the knoll that he laid upon has slumped into the marshes around it, and all that remains of him are a few worn stones, scattered at the base. Hedara visits every day, and one day remains there; she sleeps, and does not wake up.
Even if Anton did find it within himself to trust, would he pose a threat anymore? With both Aina and Geroi controlling a narrative God, they’d have the power to defeat him if he ever tried anything genuinely antagonistic. Unlike Ahmed, in that situation there wouldn't be a distant, unresolved challenge to overcome, because the result would be predetermined by the simple balance of power. There’s a dichotomy here: either the antagonist is powerful enough to be a threat, in which case they will, eventually, win; or the antagonist is kept in check, in which case they aren’t powerful enough to be a threat, and will, eventually, have effectively lost. Either way, the story ends.
And, sitting next to her, on a daisy, one of Tatu watches.
Ahmed stands, glorious and purposeful, before his subjects. The palace behind him glitters with gold, matching the embellishments on his regal clothing. His people cheer with bloodlust as he cleaves the head from a hapless victim, and the body drops into a pile below. A phoenix watches from on high, screeching ominously.
The seal has been broken, now. You, and Ed, and all the others have done what you can to prepare. All you can hope is that it was enough. Ahmed must not win, or the story will end, and the world with it.
But neither can he be defeated, not in full. A happy ending is an ending all the same. There must be an antagonist, a powerful and meaningful one, for the story to continue. There is a fine line, somewhere, between victory and defeat; you’re sure of it. Walking it, and never deviating from that path, is the real challenge.
And standing somewhere in that crowd, disguised in a thick cloak, Tatu watches.