The sun begins its descent.

Epilogue closes early today. The bustle of customers fades as Kydomela wipes the tables. A crow takes flight as they lock the doors, circling overhead. Today is the day.

The sun tracks lower in the sky.

Kydomela is ready. Are the others? Energy courses through her body, breathing life into their soul. Excitement. Anticipation. She can’t wait. The crow still watches. A small wave from Kydomela as they leave. The crow bobs its head, blinks, follows. A protector.

Sunset.

Lanterns bob overhead, casting warm light on the clearing. Rays of sun cut through the trees, painting with hues of orange and yellow. Tables laden with food form a natural border. Guests sit in the chairs, filling the clearing with life. The bustle matches that of Epilogue. Of Babylon. Past and future.

Everyone here played a part in the story, in the narrative that gathers them all here. Ferno, in their smartest suit, burning a bright, warm blue; a friend once more. Jex, Jax, and Jix in matching tuxedos; proud providers of the decorations. Baron Montgomery Yovir, a fine man in an even finer suit; a friend and business partner. Mirara and Queen Aina, hand in hand. Tucked away, hiding from the crowd, there is another. Here by special request. Rhys Vaughan. Antagonist of Ytic. Friend of Kydomela. A chair reserved in the shadows, a thick black cloak. A dashing figure. Everyone is welcome.

The trees fill with crows, cawing, shifting, waiting. Feathers fall from the sky. A path forms. The final crow arrives, the final feather falls. A hush draws in. The forest waits.

Kydomela walks up the aisle, gown trailing behind them, bouquet in hand. Her smile is unmatched. Except for one. The one waiting for them at the head of the crowd. Kara’s. As they approach, Kara’s eyes sweep over her body. Once. Twice. It truly is a stunning sight. The gown descends from a white bodice, decorative lace layered over autumnal golden silk. Embroidered antlers structure the corset, transforming into leaves and feathers falling to the floor. Gold to orange to fiery red. Her veil rests over their shoulders, a ring of golden antlers fastening it at their neck. Sheer fabric; the same colour as the silk, design matching the lace. Jewellery sways as they walk, hanging from her antlers; a golden halo.

Kara’s silhouette matches Kydomela’s. A black bodice adorned with matching leaves fades into a white gown. Embroidered black branches trail down to the floor. Fastened at the neck, a collar of crow feathers is the crowning feature of her sheer cape; perfectly framing her face and cascading over her shoulders.

The sun hovers above the horizon.

Golden light pours through the clearing. Kydomela and Kara face each other. An exchanging of vows. A swapping of rings. A commitment to each other, forever. Dying rays of sun twist around growing moonbeams. The joining of two souls.

The sun sets.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

They are one. Together. Always.¹⁾

---

Kydomela is alone in the garden behind Epilogue. It's a complex mess of herbs and plants, organized in a haphazard way that no one else will ever properly understand.

The garden's expanded a fair few times since its first construction, too. When Epilogue first opened, it was a quiet and lonesome herb garden out back, seperated from the bustle of the city only by a fence crawling with vines. Just one or two homegrown herbs can do a lot for a meal, after all.

Now, it's the greenest space in the inner city. There isn't a sprig of basil or a clove of garlic used in the food at Epilogue that isn't grown here, and there's not a soul in the world who can find either of those things here, save for its proprietress. And bees love it here

Well, and her wife, of course.

Kara is rather adept at navigating the garden herself. A quick hop over a root, a swing from a low-hanging branch to avoid disturbing the painstakingly kept tomato vines, and a drop down onto the single paving stone that Kydomela put down just to let her little crow know exactly where was safe to stand.

She kneels alongside Kydomela, and puts her head against her shoulder.

“This one's struggling,” says the fawn. “It'll be a gooseberry bush one day.”

“Hopefully,” responds Kara.

“Don't say that!” chides Kydomela, her tone playful. “It will grow up to be big and strong. I'll ensure it.”

“I'm sure you will,” says Kara with a light kiss on the cheek. “I'm looking forward to the berries already.”

Kydomela's hands keep working through the soil, tending to the small plant. Trimming off bits of dead growth, and nourishing the soil that the plant, too, might benefit. She stands, and her wife stands aside her, and they pull back some of the branches that hang above to let the light of the sun shine down on the little plant.

Well, it almost goes without saying that the patrons of Epilogue enjoyed a specially-prepared gooseberry desert that year, doesn't it? Gardening can certainly be thankless work; toiling away for long hours in the soil with little to guarantee your success. Sometimes a plant dies because of some mistake you made months ago; sometimes it dies because of reasons entirely outside of your control. In this new world where magic comes at a premium, there are few who have what it takes to watch, slowly and patiently, as the little life they nourished grows stronger still.

Ah, but it's rewarding, too. More rewarding for Kydomela than for most - after all, she gets to spend her hours in the soil with the one she loves, and gets to serve the fruits of her labour to the most satisfied customers in the kingdom.