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[h3][i][b]Epilogue: Part One[/b][/i][/h3][/center]
	It had grown late. Before the nine students of Ersand'Enise knew it, the sun was sitting low in the sky, ready to impale itself on the towers of the White Walled city that cast such a long - and lengthening - shadow over this place. Perhaps they were more unified than when they'd started in this endeavour, bright and early the morning before. Perhaps they were less so. Truly, it was something only they could know.

	Yet, the secrecy of things cut both ways, for the students could not have known the hearts of the Resistance. Perhaps they had drifted from their cause. Some had become little more than gangsters. Some, perhaps, believed fervently - enough to take extreme measures, for who can truly know the hearts of men and what they hold deep within, away from the sight of others, where not even magic can know all? 

	Days' travel distant lay the Realm of Parmoy, and it was now under the attack of the Grey Fleet: a relentless, ruthless force that churned up all those who resisted its march. Men, magic, and machines wound into that open sore, trying to staunch the bleeding, but also food, medicine, and the necessities of life. This was because of the Resistance. The cell in Ersand'Enise was but one of many, and its efforts kept those people alive.

	Days passed, and then weeks, and Jaxan lent them his increasing aid. He found his sense of purpose and they did not, in fact, use his ability to generate aberrations as a form of revenue. Then, one day, he wasn't there. Instead, in his place, was a letter for the eyes of only Aras'thazan'in'tiimithal. It warned him of a vision. It warned him to run. 

	Finally, the layers of Jaxan's and his parents' relationship remained obscured in all but the broadest sense. The nine from Ersand'Enise could not have known the reasons behind Talthan and Emenii's lukewarm support for the Resistance. They could not have known the depth of the yasoi's disaffection with the nation of their birth and their belief in the victory, justice, and deliverance offered by its invaders. They could not have known, but Jaxan, at least, had suspected.

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[center][h3][i][b]Epilogue: Part Two[/b][/i][/h3][/center]
	The sun sat low in the sky, vast and reddening, like an overripe fruit. The people of Belleville bustled about the last of their daily errands, final deals being struck, smoke starting to issue from chimneys as dinner was prepared, shops shuttering for the evening, and crickets chirping in the long grass that eked out a living among the byways and alleys.

	It was an innocuous part of this scene: a young man and a young woman - they could have been lovers, or perhaps siblings, or merely friends - walked down the Searoad, its swirling crowds paying them no manner of extra heed. They walked, and they talked. The young man turned and smiled towards the girl, her pretty red hair rippling in the evening breeze that graced the outside of the white walled city.

	[color=ffdead]“Why did you spare the boy?”[/color] he questioned her, with an unfeigned curiosity. His tone was soft, and the man’s eyes met hers searching for an answer before she’d had the chance to respond. 

	The woman shrugged. It was an evasive gesture, though her answer was not. [color=DF013A]“He was… just so innocent, so [i]nice[/i].”[/color] She sauntered instead of walking, the sunshine warm and pink on her skin. [color=DF013A]“He’ll never grasp it and -”[/color] She sighed, twisting to regard him. [color=DF013A]“I didn’t wanna kill that goodness, I guess.”[/color] The walls of the city loomed before her: an impregnable white fortress she would never be allowed inside - never, in spite of the kind words of one young man who [i]was[/i]. [color=DF013A]“We’re not the villains of this story.”[/color] She willed some certainty into it.

	[color=ffdead]“That’s a fine reason, Cherii,”[/color] he uttered, wistfully looking up at the walls that were soon within reach, the end of the road. [color=ffdead]“The world is sometimes cruel and unfair, but that doesn’t mean we have to be.”[/color]

	[color=DF013A]“But ruthless,”[/color] she replied. [color=DF013A]“We have to be ruthless.”[/color] Did her eyes flick his way? If they did, it was so brief as to be effectively imperceptible.

	His gaze however, was steadfast upon the city - [i]their[/i] city, if the ruthlessness they had to employ would deliver justice to them. [color=ffdead]“A loss of one thing, but in service of a greater gain.”[/color] He closed his eyes and exhaled, before looking toward her once more, his eyes shuttered windows to the soul that lay beneath. [color=ffdead]“Whatever we do, we do in service of a better world.”[/color]

	She appeared to simply accept the statement and there was nothing more to it. [color=DF013A]“So, what happens next?”[/color] It was a simple question. The apple seller shook his head and sighed sadly [color=ffdead]“It’s better if you don’t know. Let us both spare some good in the world today.”[/color]

	So it was that Cherii’cola’caliman passed from that meeting with her sense of goodness intact.

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[center][h3][i][b]Epilogue: Part Three[/b][/i][/h3][/center]
	[color=SpringGreen]“Before she’s here, we need to get our house in order.”[/color] Mycan locked the door and stood there at the top of the steps in silhouette. Uneasy glances were exchanged. Aras was poker faced, peeling an apple with his knife. He nodded, however.

	[color=CadetBlue]“This again?”[/color] Naxen retorted. [color=CadetBlue]“Are we really about to open this can of worms and start pointing fingers at each other?”[/color] 

	[color=cyan]“We six were the only ones who knew,”[/color] said Aras, breaking his silence, [color=SpringGreen]“so tell me, Naxen, how [i]did[/i] they find it?”[/color] Mycan tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in a gesture universal to both yasoi and humans.

	[color=LightCyan]“It had to have been those greasy fucking Parmoyish!”[/color] declared Ashon.

	[color=Aquamarine]“We never should’ve trusted them,”[/color] Miret agreed quickly.

	[color=PaleTurquoise]“It’s that little psycho Eneden.”[/color] This, then, was Chasto, eager to shift suspicion. [color=PaleTurquoise]“I bet he’s struck a deal with the Hax’olop.”[/color]

	[color=CadetBlue]“Or just taken it for himself,”[/color] Naxen snorted. [color=CadetBlue]“He [i]would[/i].”[/color] he shrugged.

	On the eve of what might’ve been the most important thing to have ever happened to them, the Resistance Against the Tarlonese Invasion had just suffered a decimating setback. Eyes slid to the eldest of them, seated at the head of the table, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. He didn’t speak.

	[color=SpringGreen]“They didn’t know which ship it was on,”[/color] countered Mycan. [color=SpringGreen]“They only knew it’d be arriving that day and that the crates would be marked.”[/color] 

	The old man scowled, taking out a dagger and spinning it idly but not absently on the tabletop. [color=cyan]“One of you has betrayed us.”[/color]

	What followed was an eruption of denials, protests of innocence crawling over each other like crabs in a bucket, desperate theories, excuses, pleas. Then, it happened: [color=CadetBlue]“Well, if it was anyone, it was Chasto! He’s Parmoyish!”[/color] 

	Nervous glances were exchanged. A handful of eyes went to Naxen. A new and dangerous door had been opened. [color=PaleTurquoise]“Convenient!”[/color] shouted the accused. [color=PaleTurquoise]“He who has been deflecting the most.”[/color] 

	[color=LightCyan]“Isn’t your uncle baron of Yaruuma?”[/color]

	[color=PaleTurquoise]“Aren’t [i]you[/i] married to a Tarlonese!?”[/color]

	[color=Aquamarine]“You never should’ve brought this up, Naxen. It makes you look suspicious.”[/color] The only woman among the group, Miret, spoke with cornered resentment.

	Still, the knife spun on the tabletop. The old man watched it. He watched, and he listened.

	[color=SpringGreen]“Nobody is a traitor,”[/color] insisted Mycan. [color=SpringGreen]“I truly believe they are not, but one of you spoke carelessly. One of you let something slip.”[/color]

	The spinning blade on the table came to an abrupt stop, as the wizened man grasped it firmly. [color=cyan]“Bullshit.”[/color] he spoke gruffly, and the arm holding the knife began to raise and point, before there was a stop. His mouth jerked open and three dark red specks - almost black - appeared on the tabletop. His eyes levered down to regard them with bemusement.

	[i]THUD[/i]

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[center][h3][i][b]Epilogue: Part Four[/b][/i][/h3][/center]
	Aras’ head dropped against the table and the knife clattered across the floor before it could be levied against the traitor. Foam and bile spilled from his lips as his ancient body slumped in his seat, lifeless.

	Miret - the woman - let out a scream and could instantly feel their eyes upon her. Those darted around the room, now, a hornet’s nest disturbed - accusing, shouting silently, wide with shock and terror. [color=SpringGreen]“That doesn’t just happen randomly!”[/color] shouted Mycan. [color=SpringGreen]“One of you did -”[/color]

	His eyes rolled back and filled with blood and he collapsed in a heap. [color=LightCyan]“It was Naxen!”[/color] Ashon leveled a finger. [color=LightCyan]“It was fucking Naxen! He’s been deflecting the whole time!”[/color] 

	[color=CadetBlue]“Yash spax!”[/color] shouted Naxen. [color=CadetBlue]“It’s someone else, trying to set us against each other!”[/color] 

	[color=Aquamarine]“Oh!”[/color] exclaimed Miret. [color=Aquamarine]“[i]now[/i] it couldn’t possibly any of us, now that it clearly fucking [i]is[/i]! Very -”[/color]

	[color=PaleTurquoise]“Ensa’Calop”[/color] whispered Chasto into the ear of Naxen from behind, before he began to throttle the man's throat with a full draw and a firm squeeze, making full use of his leadvein abilities. 

	Miret scrambled backwards, eyes wide. [color=Aquamarine]“It’s him. It [i]has[/i] to be him!”[/color]

	[color=LightCyan]“What the [i]fuck[/i], Chasto? We don’t know if -”[/color] Ashon’s words were cut off by a scream as Chasto vomited up blood and fell backwards. It was all over his clothes, and Naxen’s, and the floor. Miret began running for the door. [color=CadetBlue]“It - it wasn’t,”[/color] Naxen tried. [color=CadetBlue]“I know how it looks but it wasn’t.”[/color]

	[color=LightCyan]“Help me, you stupid taca!”[/color] Ashon shouted at her, and she stopped at the base of the steps, coming about. Naxen threw up his hands defensively, backing away, but now they had him surrounded. [color=LightCyan]“You traitorous piece of tiims’pax!”[/color] 

	The pair closed in on the traitor and there was naught he could do. His clothes were covered with blood, and his throat was so damaged that he could barely speak more desperate pleas to them. Ashon kicked his former - false - comrade to the ground and Miret finished the job, a clean stomp to the head, ending the man’s life.

	They regarded each other for a moment, chests heaving, hands trembling. They hadn’t even taken in the room yet, perhaps because they knew and could not bear to look. Miret broke first, her lip trembling, tears spilling down her cheeks. She stumbled toward him for an embrace, but Ashon seized up, taking a step back and shaking his head, dazed.

	Immediately apologetic, for she needed him, in truth, he turned back to regard her. For a moment, he locked eyes with her and they were bloodshot, he noticed, bloodshot from the - 

	He turned and ran, taking the stairs two at a time as she expired behind him with a choked cry. The wood thumped beneath his feet and mortal terror propelled him. The lock! The stupid lock wouldn’t - there it was! He rattled it open and it swung and - 

	For a moment, Ashon thought he felt a tingle behind his eyes.

	An apple - partially peeled - rolled off of the table when something thumped against it. It landed on the floor and rolled some more, soaking up the blood of the Resistance and going still.

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[center][h3][i][b]Ransom Demand: Fin.[/b][/i][/h3][/center]