Epilogue

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Thalleous trudged through the snow of Velgrin, his companion panting beside him. His ears longer and his face more lined, the old Sendaris surveyed the mountain where the last battle of the Great War had been fought.

"When you fought in the war, what rank were you?" the human asked tentatively.

Thalleous glanced to the left. "A lieutenant."

The human clenched his sword. "And...when you decommissioned?"

The air was tense. Thalleous shivered as he responded. "A major."

The dark-haired man nodded. The duo stepped down a small pile of snow into a respite from the wind. In the center of this alcove was a frame of obsidian, not unlike those used by the Nether years before.

"This is where I sent the scouts," Hawken mentioned. "Right here, Thalleous."

The veteran explorer knelt down and touched the snow. Looking to his left, he saw a small cave filled with bricks.

"See if you can find anything in the area," the former major ordered. Walking into the hole, he discovered spears, books, and all other manners of artifacts. The lieutenant furrowed his brow. Looking around, it seemed quite similar to what his quarters at the Sendaria Militia had looked like. Grabbing a shield from the room, he walked back outside to Hawken, who was staring at the portal.

"Someone was here," Thalleous speculated as he dropped the shield. "Recently." He glanced at the portal. There was something familiar about it, tugging at his heart as he spoke.

"I found their supplies."

"How peculiar," Hawken said. "Why would they leave their belongings where others might find them?"

Thalleous stared at the portal, and remembered where it was from. Snow had fallen upon the area, the obsidian frame had withered, but this was the place where he had discovered the Prime Songs, fallen from the Tidesinger and Deathsinger.

This was where Acchilean had died.

Thalleous gritted his teeth. There could only be one reason for such haphazard storage.

"Because they are still here."

A Voltaris stood behind them. Hawken jumped, but Thalleous slowly turned around. The red warrior had his sword drawn and was staring at Thalleous, primal hatred in his eyes. More Voltaris surrounded them.

They were being ambushed.

Thalleous drew his sword, which had gleamed for hours beforehand from an encounter with undead. He worried the assault was a warning of the guardians of Velgrin and their wrath.

The first Voltaris stepped forward. "You must be Thalleous Sendaris. I've heard many things about you."

Hawken stayed behind Thalleous. The Sendaris exhaled slowly. "And I have heard nothing about you."

The Voltaris smirked, as if he knew something Thalleous didn't. "Oh, I know. I've made quite sure of that." He took a few more steps forward. "So allow me to introduce myself. My name," his stride slowed, "is Tygren Voltaris."

Thalleous barely remembered the name, but he remembered a face: a scared face of a Voltaris boy who had wanted nothing more than to see him dead. The wanderer widened his eyes. Had Tygren let his hatred breed for 154 years, waiting for this moment to avenge his people?

"As for you, Thalleous Sendaris, I know who you are, Champion!" Tygren's eyes glared into Thalleous' vigilant gaze. Thalleous tensed at the word, remembering brutal raids and the power he had once felt from the Primes. "And I know what you've done to my clan!"

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