Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Cat
The true end, two years later
I step out of the Heartrender elevator bank into Zenith, the world of Compass Hollow . Instead of streamers and balloons, the office is decked out in plaster trees, fairy lights, and ten-foot-tall trolls (the Norse kind, not the internet kind). As I duck around a photobooth and squeeze past a table littered with plastic swords, quarterstaffs, and great axes, I find what I’m searching for: our banner.
It’s at least fifty feet long, stretching from the sound department’s offices to the technical animators’ desks. Rocking back on my heels, I check out the print job. The lettering is big and bold, serifed and slightly stylized given the medieval setting of the game. Underneath the words Compass Hollow , Sentinel stands with their back to the audience, surrounded by their companions while facing down a fell dragon with three rows of teeth, claws made for ripping souls from bodies, and spikes for days.
I grin. It looks incredible, and I can’t wait to get a fresh hoodie with the Compass Hollow logo on the back. This entire launch party is just another dream in a long line Andi has made come true for me—even if it took a year longer than everyone thought it would, because hey? What game doesn’t get delayed these days?
“Hey, girl.” A doughnut appears under my nose. “Glad to see you could make it.”
Taking it, I thank my philanthropist. “Please, Phi. Rocks could fall and everyone could die and I’d still drag my smooshed zombie ass to this party.”
“Now there’s a mental image.” Philo smiles and rests a hand on her stomach. She’s about eight months along, which makes the launch of Compass Hollow one of the last things she and Gabe will do before they both go out on parental leave. Based on the way she’s looking around, she’s nervous about leaving her first baby (“my real baby,” as she’s confessed to me) behind.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure her around a mouthful of sugar and fried dough. “Andz and Dom’ll keep the lights on around here. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know you will.” Producing a napkin and a manila folder out of thin air—she’s clearly been practicing her parental sleight of hand—she hands both to me.
I hoover the rest of the doughnut, wipe my hands and mouth with the napkin, and open the folder. The sheet of paper inside has been folded into thirds. When I flip it open, I read:
Dear Cat,
Welcome to the Heartrender team! We’re delighted to offer you the exempt position of Associate Staff Writer …
My heart skips a beat. Slack-jawed, I stare at Philo.
Her dimples deepen as she lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You deserve it. Honestly, we should’ve asked you to join us as a permanent member a year ago instead of just extending your contract but … you know, delays. Plus the budget didn’t align till now. Sorry about that.”
After Ainsley’s article knocked the legs out from under Brett’s scheme, Jan (who managed to get off scot-free, because of course he did) and the other execs at EA replaced him with an overworked but scarily competent white woman named Siobhan who already had too much on her plate. As a result, Heartrender’s budget requests went unheeded for whole months at a time, leading to slowdowns in hiring and development. On the plus side, Siobhan managed to convince EA it’d be spectacularly bad optics if they fired Andi following the leak, thereby unwittingly defanging Jan.
“Sorry?” I squeak. I dive in for a hug until I remember how pregnant Philo is and tweak my approach angle for a slightly gentler landing. “This is amazing.”
“Glad to hear it,” Philo says. “And before you start second-guessing yourself, Andz doesn’t even know yet. They recused themself from the discussions. You should go and tell them.”
I grin. “Know where they are?”
Philo shrugs. “No idea, but Neptune’s about to kick off a Street Fighter tournament in the Cave. You can check there. Now if you’ll excuse me, the pregnant lady needs to find herself a nice, comfortable seat.”
She shuffles off, leaving me to hunt for Andi on my own. Taking Philo’s advice, I head toward the Cave. Neptune, Andi’s new assistant whom she hired after she let Carter go, is a straightforward, give-no-fucks enby whose name is so badass, the first time I met them I couldn’t stop rattling off Poseidon facts I learned during my tenure at Charon’s Scythe —that is, until Andi appeared and saved me from myself. They’ve also won multiple premier-league Street Fighter championships. I pity the luckless bastard who gets bracketed with them in the office tourney.
Sure enough, as soon as I walk past the Ogre Mound, I hear Andi. She’s playing—and losing—against Thayer, and cursing vociferously enough to get hauled in by HR. She’s smiling, though, and from my corner in the back, I watch her thumbs flick over the controller, watch the ring on her fourth finger flash every time she executes a combo.
I proposed to her last week. We’d just wrapped up our latest campaign and sent our friends, including Val and Sally, on their way. (After Andi and I got together, Sally took a hiatus from D to my left, the Ogre Mound and the Cave. And across from me is the eggshell wall I stared at while I pretended not to care how much Andi “Andz” Zhang didn’t want me on her writing team.
Only I can’t quite see the wall anymore. Andi is standing in my way, looking at me, reminding me that I exist. That I matter. No matter how weird or abnormal I feel.
“I love you,” she says in a low voice.
“I love you too.”
I give in then. Pushing up on tiptoe, I meet her mouth with mine. We kiss like there’s no one watching, like it’s the dawn of a new world and we’re the heroes who averted the apocalypse. We kiss like instead of a New Game Plus, there’s a happily-ever-after waiting for us on the other side of the end credits.
We kiss like we’re canon.