Epilogue
Ignatius
One year later…
Iggie stepped outside onto his front stoop, breathing in the crisp winter air.
He was bundled up snugly in several layers of well-made cloaks, so he didn’t mind the chill breeze sweeping down the village street as much as he once might have.
Of course, it also helped that a year of good food and solid rest had put some meat on his bones.
He stomped down the short path leading from his door to the street, pausing as he always did beside the pair of statues—one a winged Celestial and the other a horned Infernal—standing silent vigil where he’d laid his parents’ bones to rest. The ache of their second passing had eased in the intervening year, and he smiled fondly, brushing his hand over the smooth stone.
His final order to them had been to protect the townsfolk…yet somehow, they’d managed to act of their own volition and save his life again anyway. For that, he would be forever grateful.
Love you, Mom and Dad.
With a brief bow of his head, he continued following the path toward the main square.
Though he walked alone without undead guards by his side, he didn’t feel lonely.
It had been a long time since most of his skeletons perished against the harmonite golem, and though he’d raised more undead since to replenish his ranks, he no longer felt the need for a personal guard.
Here in Singer’s Rest, he had nothing to fear.
Indeed, the other villagers he passed paused their chatting or set aside their partial Dawncoming decorations to wave and smile.
A welcome warmth tugged at Iggie’s breast as he returned the gesture.
In all the years he’d spent on the run, he’d never imagined he might eventually find a place to call home. Yet here, among these people, he had.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing, of course.
Nightmares still haunted his dreams, and not every villager appreciated having a wildling necromancer living among them.
But he could live with the occasional dirty look or quickening step.
Their hatred hadn’t amounted to anything more than that—not since Brother Kelvin’s departure.
That had been a messy affair. When the Order denied Kelvin’s request to send additional Knights to “resolve the crisis”—thanks in large part to missives of support for Alistair and Iggie from Erys, Liliana, and even Maxwell—the stubborn priest had attempted to rile up the town, only to find his backers far more limited than he’d expected.
Apparently, even the narrow-minded could overlook quite a bit when you had literally saved their lives.
In the end, Kelvin had little choice but to resign his posting here and return to the Church.
Iggie wished whatever poor town they sent him to next all the best.
As he neared the village square, the noise from the boisterous crowd pulled him from his thoughts.
He fought down a prickle of unease. Though he tried not to let it show, large gatherings like this still made him nervous, a part of him wondering if he’d ever truly feel like he belonged.
Picturing Alistair’s smiling face, he exhaled and forced his feet onward.
He’d faced down a terror conjured from the Void. He could handle a few people.
After last year’s debacle, the council had gone overboard with this year’s festivities.
Tables full of pastries and sweets lined the space while barrels of wine and ale and juice sat stacked in scattered clusters.
Enormous harmonite sculptures dominated the center of the courtyard courtesy of Liliana’s artisans, their scintillating patterns playing off smaller crystals shaped like snowflakes and animals that hung strung up along wires throughout the square.
The spectacle was almost blinding in its brilliance. So much vibrancy—so much life.
A grin split Iggie’s face when he spied a pair of his undead standing guard by the square’s entrance, raw harmonite shards woven among their bones.
That had been another of Liliana’s brilliant ideas.
If you had access to free labor that never had to eat, sleep, or rest, then why not take advantage of it?
Iggie had started small, raising a pair of skeletons from those that had fallen during the battle against the golem.
The townsfolk resisted the idea at first, but once they saw how effective the undead were at performing the less desirable grunt work around town, they’d warmed up quickly.
Now, Iggie had a good twenty or so that doubled as supplemental security when needed—such as today.
The pair of skeletal guards regarded him with pitch-black eyes as he passed, and he sent each a silent thread of duskflame to reassure them that they were doing a good job.
He’d grown better at utilizing his magic this past year, and while his undead still possessed plenty of limitations, he’d found that a little nurturing went a long way toward enabling them to obey more general directives or even operate on their own with limited intelligence, as Marlon and Cynthia had.
Hundreds of people already filled the courtyard, and Iggie hesitated on the outskirts, scanning the crowd. He has to be around here somewhere…
“Ah, my boy! So glad you decided to join us.”
It wasn’t who he was searching for, but Iggie smiled anyway as he turned to face Erys. “I couldn’t miss the big day.”
The wizened old mage beamed and patted him fondly on the shoulder. “Of course not! But I know how much you like to keep to yourself, and that simply won’t do—not during Dawncoming. Today of all days is a time to celebrate our bonds of love and friendship.”
Iggie nodded absently, resuming his scan of the crowd.
Erys didn’t seem perturbed by Iggie’s distracted state. He chattered away about his recent magical experiments and the latest gossip he’d heard around town.
Gradually, Iggie found himself drawn into the discussion, setting aside his search for the time being. It was nice to have people to talk to who could actually talk back.
“So, have you given any more thought to my proposal?” Erys eventually asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.
Iggie kicked at a patch of loose snow. “Do you really think it’d work?”
Erys shrugged. “Why not? Most wildlings, at least in Khordan, rarely learn anything beyond their intrinsic magic because no one will teach them. That doesn’t mean they can’t be taught.”
“But…what would that make me? A warlock?”
Another shrug. “Does the label really matter, my boy? Warlock, mage, necromancer—call yourself what you please. I can’t train you to use runeflame since it would conflict with your own inherent duskflame, but there’s still so much you might learn about the principles of magic with a more formal education.
If nothing else, I can help you explore your existing powers. ”
Iggie hesitated, staring at the ground. It was a kind offer, one he knew he should jump at. Yet, he couldn’t help thinking of Matrim and Julian. A shudder coursed through him.
“Are you sure you want to teach me after what happened with your last apprentice?”
Erys rested a gentle hand on his arm, and Iggie looked up to find the mage regarding him with a soft smile.
Those timeless eyes that had once so unsettled Iggie now seemed brimming with infinite wisdom and compassion.
“My boy, if there’s anything my failure with Matrim has taught me, it’s the importance of never turning your back on someone who might benefit from your guidance.
It would be my honor to show you all I can. Now then, is that a yes?”
Shoving down his remaining reservations, Iggie gave a firm nod. He wouldn’t allow his doubts and fears to control him—not anymore. “All right. Count me in.”
Beaming, Erys clapped him on the back. “Splendid! We shall discuss an appropriate schedule and lesson plan tomorrow morning. I expect you at my tower by sunrise.”
Iggie blanched. “Wait, that early? Perhaps we should—”
“Ah, no time to deliberate, I’m afraid.” Erys’ ancient eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the center of the square. “I believe the ceremony is about to begin.”
Iggie turned to look, his breath catching when he spotted Alistair stepping onto an elevated platform that had been built for the occasion, resplendent in his ornate armor.
Alistair didn’t wear it as much as he used to.
Though thus far the Order seemed to have accepted his decision to remain stationed here as the town’s protector, and the Church hadn’t raised too much of a fuss over Kelvin’s departure, strictly speaking his actions weren’t officially sanctioned either.
Still, no matter what else changed, Alistair would always be Iggie’s paladin. His hero.
“People of Singer’s Rest,” Alistair began with a sweep of his arms and a broad smile.
“Thank you all for coming. Today, we celebrate the present while looking toward the future. Though we may still be in the heart of winter, spring beckons on the horizon. Dawncoming is a day of new beginnings—a time to give thanks for all we have while striving to be the best we can hope to be.”
Some of his good humor dimmed as he bowed his head.
His golden breastplate gleamed in the sun.
“I know that last Dawncoming was challenging. Some of us lost our loved ones, and there seemed little cause for celebration. Yet, a year later, here we still stand, our town as strong as ever. We faced down a beast of the abyss and triumphed. Never forget that you possess that same strength now to help you overcome any future hardships—not alone, but together, with those you care for. With those you love.”
Despite the large crowd, Alistair’s eyes somehow found Iggie’s, and they locked gazes, Iggie’s heart thrumming in his chest. Alistair continued his prepared speech, but Iggie only half-listened to the words.
He’d heard them plenty over the last few weeks as he’d helped Alistair practice.
Instead, he focused on the rhythm of Alistair’s voice and the subtle shifts of his body, as entrancing as any of the colorful crystals that surrounded them.
Iggie caught someone looking at him from the corner of his eye and glanced over to find Liliana regarding him with a knowing smirk. A blush heated his neck as he focused back on Alistair.
Whatever she’d seen on his face to make her grin like that was only a fraction of the true depth of his feelings for the man who had saved him, not just from the harmonite golem or the Order, but also from himself. From a lifetime of loneliness.
When the speech concluded and the crowd scattered, some going to grab food or drink while others ambled back toward their homes, Iggie shoved his way toward the stage. Alistair must’ve been doing the same in reverse because they met each other halfway.
Iggie wasted no time throwing his arms around Alistair, hugging him tight. Alistair returned the embrace with equal fervor, sealing his lips to Iggie’s in a tender kiss before leaning back, his face surprisingly vulnerable.
“Be honest—how was it? I was still debating some of the wording only minutes before, but I thought—”
Iggie silenced him with another kiss, reveling in the way Alistair’s tensed body relaxed against him. “It was perfect.” He grinned. “Besides, you could have gotten up there and spent an hour insulting everyone, and they’d still love you.”
Alistair’s face grew serious. He looked deeply into Iggie’s eyes, his own melting into loving pools of amber. “Not as much as I love you.”
Iggie’s heart fluttered, and he rested his head on Alistair’s shoulder. “I love you, too.”
Later tonight, they’d have plenty of time alone in the home they shared to demonstrate the depth of their affection, but for now, simply standing there in each other’s arms was more than enough. More than Iggie had ever thought he’d have.
Blinking back a sudden sheen of wetness, he closed his eyes, confident that wherever his parents were now, they could rest easy in the knowledge that he was finally safe, happy, and loved.