“What about the bracelet?” Atticus asks, looking back at Zyra.

“It's... completely destroyed.” She answers, picking up the remains of the accessory and showing it to him. In her hand rests the shattered metal and broken stones. “I suppose it might be possible to resynthesize the stones, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Copper bracelets aren't really built to handle such stress.”

“I suppose it's a necessary loss.” The knight heaves a sigh, not in mourning for the bracelet, but in equal parts relief and surprise at the mere fact that it's over – their long, dangerous journey has finally come to an end.

He's also somewhat disappointed that his meeting with Isabelle had ended so quickly. He doesn't know if it was truly a conversation with his lost love in the afterlife, or a lucid dream with an image of her telling him what he wants to hear. Either way, he finally feels the sense of closure that he had been searching for. He gazes up at Zyra's bright blue eyes, and admires her for a moment. Her lips curve into a small smile, and he realizes he should ask about one semi-crucial detail.

“How long have I been out?” He inquires.

“Only about ten minutes or so.” The pyromancer answers. “We saw you were still breathing, so we decided to wait a bit and see if you'd come to on your own.”

“Think you can stand?” Veros asks.

“Barely.” Atticus responds. “My head feels like it's splitting open.”

“Here, I'll help you up.” Veros places his head under the knight's right arm as he tries to stand up. Atticus can't help but rub his temples as he pushes himself to his feet with his partner's assistance. He momentarily clenches his eyes closed and hangs his head due to the sensitivity towards going from a resting to standing position.

With Veros's help, Atticus accompanies the others back down to the ground floor of the room and approach the door, which has been shut again entirely, everyone's weapons still held across the handles. There's no more sign of a vicious horde on the other side, neither their relentless beating of the threshold, nor their disgusting gnarls and growls.

“Erik, help me open this.” Veros orders as he hands the knight over to support himself on Zyra's shoulder.

Veros and Erik remove the weapons from the handles, handing them back to their owners, and they each take one door, preparing to open both simultaneously.

“Ready? Now.” The veteran and archer begin to pull the double doors inward, slowly allowing everyone to peer out into the now silent foyer.

As they expected, the horde of feral undead under the mist's control has become inactive, every single reanimated corpse was on the floor, totally still, limply lying over each other like a giant pile of ragdolls. The trail of a hundred or so bodies goes more than halfway into the hall, so densely packed that, until then, it's difficult to even see the rug underneath them all.

“What a mess.” Kellar comments, making a slight scowl at the collection of bodies. They're all so decomposed, it's impossible to distinguish any unique features.

“Watch your step.” Veros warns as he leads the way through the corpse-littered foyer.

Everyone cautiously walks over the bodies, as there's no room to actually plant their feet on the floor itself. After making their way across, they cross the courtyard, back into the hall underneath the ballroom, through the first foyer, and through the front entrance. Once outside, they're greeted by a clear blue sky, something they hadn't seen in its unobscured majesty since before their quest began days ago.

They approach the top of the steep trail leading back down to the city's lower rings, near the giant wall and portcullis. However, the first thing they see while up there, is Owyn's remains lying off to the side of the top-most steps, having waited for their success as he promised he would. Like the hostile undead inside the castle, Owyn and the other remaining Armasstadt survivors were kept 'alive' by the unexplained powers of the mist. Without it, he had become a normal, decayed cadaver.

Veros kneels next to the deceased mage with sympathetic eyes. “You've been released from your curse, friend. Thank you for helping us near the end.” He straightens out Owyn's body, turning him to lie on his back instead of his side, and then places the deceased mage's hands over one another on his chest. Veros gives one last thankful pat on the shoulder before standing and rejoining the team, who are taking the opportunity to gaze over the wide valley without the ominous dome obstructing their vision. Their elevated point of view grants them the opportunity to see a great amount of Yhordran's north – more than what was previously allowed due to the mist's existence.

“A beautiful sight.” Erik comments, nodding in contentment.

“Aye.” Royd nods in agreement. “It's nice to finally see the world again, instead of just grey all around us.”

“It's quiet, though. Not many people around to celebrate with us.” Kellar remarks, referring to the very distinct lack of other citizens around. They're the only living souls in any direction for miles, and it makes them feel rather morose and lonely despite their success.

“Lots of lives were lost over the last six months of waiting for this day to come.” Veros laments. “It'll certainly take many, many years for Yhordran to repair all of this damage, and it will continue to be felt for centuries to come, but we stopped it before it reached the point where reparation could no longer be possible.”

“I wonder what's going to happen now.” Zyra ponders aloud, still holding Atticus's arm over her shoulders, supporting him as he still recovers from his daze. “What'll happen to the north? And how will our lives change once people know what we've done?”

“Well, whatever fame or reward we get for our efforts, I'm definitely taking as much advantage of it as possible.” The rogue proudly announces. “I want free ale every time I visit the tavern, and I want my home paid for in full. No more rent. I'm sick of it.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Hopefully this makes my job at the city guard easier.” Veros admits.

“I don't really have much to ask for.” Erik confesses. “I don't think anyone would question my ambition or my ability to succeed without my family's influence now.”

“I'm very curious of the world of magic.” Royd comments and looks at his two comrades who know how to cast pyromancy. “I wonder if my daught would be interested in going to the univeristy if I brought it up to her.”

“That'd be lovely.” Zyra encourages her brawny teammate. “I think it's worth a go, though I supposed I'm biased in this matter. And you?” She turns to Atticus. “What do you want to do?”

“I think it's time I go back Threcia.” The knight answers solemnly, still gazing to the south. “I don't know if I'll stay there for long, but there are some people there who are probably worried about me. I want to see them one more time. And I'll take you with me, of course.” He says to Zyra with a small smile.

“I'd like that.” She responds with an eager nod.

Kellar suddenly lets out a pained groan while clutching his injured shoulder. “Gods, my arm's fucked up all to hell. Last time this happened, the physician told me next time might require surgery to truly fix it. I don't look forward to that.”

“I'm sure my wife will have some choice words for me for getting hit by an arrow.” Royd laments. “Even though I'm lucky to be alive to begin with.”

“I'm still rather surprised that the source of the mist ended up being a black arcane crystal.” Zyra interjects, looking downward with a thoughtful gaze. “It feels like a terrible opportunity was lost to find out how they work and how to control them. The first time a person was able to do it, and it ended up being someone who had lost their mind and sought only to serve themselves.”

“It's a sad reality that not all inventions or discoveries are made with altruistic intent.” Veros comments. “It feels like a lost opportunity indeed, but there's never a guarantee that great power will ever be lucky enough to fall into the hands only of someone benevolent.”

“I suppose you're right. Maybe someone else in the future will be able to find and use one, and share their knowledge. It could be a matter of time.”

Veros, considering the power of the black crystals, turns and looks back up at the high, broken glass dome of the congregation hall. Where the powerful torrent of miasma once was, only the Mount Armas resides. His gaze follows the mountainside upward, before going above its peak and into the sky, where the eruption was hitting its peak and dispersing in all directions.

“What of that creature we saw?” The veteran utters aloud, referring to the grotesque massive tentacle emerging from the discharge's apex. He partially expects to see it again in mid-air.

“Are we so sure it was even real?” Royd asks, having been the first one to notice it. “It could have been a heinous vision caused by the crystal.”

“I suppose I can't deny the possibility.” Veros turns back around, hoping to put the horrific sight behind him. He finds little point in asking questions about the entity now. With Westshire dead and the black crystal destroyed, the likelihood of receiving any answers would be close to non-existent.

“So, what do we do now?” Kellar asks with a sigh shrug to no one in particular. “Do we head back south or do we stay here and wait for other people to come to us?”

“Well, it's a bit too late in the day to leave.” Veros replies, looking at the sun about to touch the horizon line.

“Well, there's no more undead, so we don't really need to worry about traveling at night.” Erik remarks with an important detail.

“Oh, that's right...” The veteran utters, having the usual travel procedures still ingrained in him. “Well, with the mist gone, I'm sure some people plan on making a beeline here – like Lena, for example. I'm sure she's already on her way, same with Legion officers and soldiers.”

“If we leave, people might miss us and simply arrive without knowing what happened here.” Atticus says. “It's probably better if we stay. Though we might need someone to go south to get food, anyway.”

“True. We wouldn't want anyone to come here and be clueless as to what transpired. Is everyone alright with staying?” Veros's question is met with a unanimous nod of heads. “Alright, well, let's find a place to stay, then. I imagine an inn would be closer to the lower rings.” He begins walking down the steps leading to ground level, with most of the other following him.

“Hold on a second.” Kellar stops him. “Why don't we just stay inside the castle?” He points back the exquisite and vacant palace. “Do we really need to go all the way back down to the bottom rings?”

“All of our belongings are with our horses, and our horses are near the gate.”

The rogue sighs. “Fuck's sake. I was hoping to look around the houses around here for something valuable.”

“You're still on that?” Royd interrupts and looks back, slightly annoyed. “You just said you'd ask to have your home paid for as repayment for our success. I can't imagine that being too unreasonable a request, so why else would you need to loot now?”

Kellar shrugs. “There's nothing wrong with taking home a small bit of insurance.”

“Galliford's beard...” The brawny man shakes his head in disapproval. “This was tolerable behavior before, but now that the mist is gone, it's just tactless.” He gives a dismissive wave and resumes walking.

“I just...” The rogue almost begins justifying himself, but stops and simply sighs. “Fine.” With the begrudging attitude he's maintained since the first day of the quest, Kellar follows the rest of the group down the massive path of stairs.

“Atticus?” Zyra speaks up softly to the physically indisposed knight still leaning on her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Yes?” Atticus responds.

“Did you... experience anything while you were unconscious? A dream, maybe?”

The knight, surprised at first to hear such a question, stays quiet for a brief moment. He wishes to appease his partner's inquisitive nature, as she was obviously going to have questions to ask relating to the crystals, but he also wants to keep his experience to himself. He still has no clue as to how 'real' the meeting with his long-lost love was, but it was something that was clearly meant solely for him.

“A dream, yes.” Atticus answers after his pensive silence.

“What was it of?”

“Nothing special, really. I simply had a conversation with someone I hadn't seen in a long time.” He tries to stay slightly vague, but also detailed enough to be helpful.

“And what did they say?” Zyra continues with keen interest.

A small smile crosses the knight's face. “Everything I needed to hear.”

While his answer doesn't necessarily satisfy her curiosity to its fullest extent, the young pyromancer resolves to accept it, fully aware of the emotional burdens her comrade currently – or perhaps formerly – carried. However, in her contemplative silence, she figures she could easily wager a guess as to who the person in his dream may be.

With their mission complete, and Yhordran's mysterious threat quelled, the Mistwalkers begin their long trek back to the entrance of Armasstadt so they can await the eventual arrival of those curious of the identities of the continent's saviors, and just as importantly, its condemners.

The fog that plagued their home for nearly seven months had been vanquished, but with no small sacrifice. Many lives had been lost and many villages and settlements had become ghost towns. The journey to undoing such immeasurable destruction to civilization would be long, but thanks to the efforts of six individuals who dared to continue when most people stopped, an even greater doom was avoided. Tales will undoubtedly be told of the actions of a foreign knight, a Legion veteran, a pyromancy student, a woodcutter, a rogue, and a noble who walked into the dense, impenetrable veil of the grey mist, and reemerged as heroes.