I guess that this is the point where I'm supposed to claim that everyone lived happily ever after. If I were a little more dishonest, I might have. Of course everyone knows that it's a lie, as first off, not everybody lived. Beyond that, it's the 'ever after' part which really throws a wrench into things. Unhappy things always happen, eventually, often sooner than one might expect. Good things do as well, of course, and then there's most things which happen, things which don't quite fit into one category or the other.

Many of the augmented mice ended up taking residence within the city. There was a good deal of room, seeing as how plenty of the citizens had died in the past battle. These augmented mice had a rather difficult time, however. I would like to be able to say that it was because the current citizens refused to forgive them for the damage that they had caused and the lives that were lost, but that wasn't really the case. Mice are rather quick to forgive people for the things that they have done. On the other hand they are very slow to forgive people for what they are. In this case, foreigners and outsiders. Murder is a single, temporary act, even if it has permanent repercussions, but being different? That's forever, and far more difficult more difficult for others to look past.

The citizens, those who knew about it at least, were also quick to blame the former followers of the shadow king for the Dave-bot. Perhaps they were even right, although I have my doubts. The newcomers have all repeatedly denied that the automaton was one of their own creations, and they have been otherwise more than forthcoming with information. I fail to see why they would lie about this. Even aside from general bigotry, however, I can see why the people would make that assumption. If the augmented mice weren't responsible for the strange, artificial mouse, then where exactly did it come from? I've been keeping my eyes open, watching for any other signs of impostors, but so far I have failed to spot any. Whether that means that 'Dave' was a unique entity, or that there are others who are effectively blending in with the rest of the citizenry is anyone's guess.

These newcomers didn't experience any violence or other forms of intense harassment, but between the sudden, dramatic shift in lifestyle, and being constantly reminded in countless subtle ways that they were unwelcome, many of those new citizens, particularly the older ones, were never really able to adjust. A lot of them ended up leaving with time, and forming their own small villages among their own kind. There were some fears among the kingdom citizens that another shadow king would rise up from amongst these people to threaten them once more, but they have been quite peaceful up to this point.

Quite a few remained, as well. Both Vania and Gwendolynne are still strong, positive influences for the augmented mice, and many followed their examples. Those two are even less welcome than most, being far less willing than the average augmented mouse to try to conform, but that never bothered them. They are both warriors at heart, after all, and simply see their new home as another sort of battlefield.

Vania really is quite the charming woman once you get to know her. Admittedly, I still don't completely understand what she's saying most of the time, but you do start to get the gist of it after a while. She was quick to make herself a new box head, although I often wonder what, exactly is inside of it. While the box portion was easy enough to make, I can't imagine that she was able to recreate the strange, crystalline weapon so easily. I'm probably better off not knowing, in truth. I habitually call her Vania, but she has since changed her name to Eloise the Annihilatrix. I don't feel that it flows quite as well, personally, but she's been quite insistent in her preference.

As for Gwendolynne, she had also rebuilt her nearly destroyed body. It doesn't look quite as impressive as her old one, as even if materials are comparatively abundant these days, so much of the knowledge and resources from her old home were lost once the people had begun to scatter. Still, I wouldn't want to get into a fight with the former general in her current state. I had often wished to clear the air with her, but never could quite work up the nerve. I know that she wasn't a particularly good person, but I also know that she, like all of us, had reasons for being the way that she was. That doesn't mean that everything that she did is now perfectly fine, of course, but I can accept those reasons and am more than willing to forgive her for any harm that she had caused. I strongly doubt that the feeling is mutual, however. While difficult for her, I know that during my unwilling visit to the mobile fortress that she tried. She really did want me to understand what they were doing and why. She trusted me, and, ultimately, I betrayed that trust. I don't necessarily regret what I did back then, but that doesn't mean that I can expect her to forgive me for it, either. It's rather unfortunate. I consider her to be a highly intelligent woman, even an honorable one, in her own twisted way, but I guess that not everyone is meant to be able to connect with one another.

Naturally, the presence of the augmented mice didn't lead to any sort of glorious, technologically advanced age for the kingdom, either. It's very difficult for a minority to truly change a majority. Almost impossible. More often than not, they are, instead, the ones to conform. With their people scattered, their greatest engineer, Mollenoch, missing, and much of the technology of their former mobile fortress unsalvageable, not only did the augmented mice struggle to advance, they struggled to even regain their past strength, and are still a long ways from it.

This isn't to say that they had no impact whatsoever, of course. As one might expect, not many citizens were willing to have unknown machines surgically implanted into their bodies, much less have entire limbs replaced. Many similarly argued that more minor technologies were both dangerous and unnecessary (and in truth, some of them were quite dangerous), but in time, small conveniences were gradually tolerated, and eventually, would change from novelties into necessities Sure, some of the older mice will grumble that the electric lights aren't needed, and that candles and torches had worked just fine, and every new advancement is more than a bit of an uphill battle, but again, the augmented mice were a largely warlike race. Those that remained were by no means afraid to fight for the sake of progress.

The original citizens are still advancing on their own as well. While Jerin is still seen as, by far, the best blacksmith in the city, several other mouse forges have popped up across the kingdom. More refined metal weapons and armor ended up becoming downright common, and while few local mice cared much for the newly developed firearms, they were eager to accept the improvements to the more conventional weaponry designed by the advanced mice.

A few of the players had remained as well, but not many. Quite a few stayed for a little while, and clearly didn't dislike their time in the kingdom, finding themselves much more welcome than the augmented mice. It was easier to pretend that these people were the same, after all. In the end, however, most just ended up missing their homelands, and especially the delicious food that was available there. Reginald himself had enjoyed a brief victory party, but was naturally eager to return to the diamond fortress in order to begin his rule. It wasn't all triumph and glory, however. There were no shortage of grieving citizens back home, including Beatrice, the fiancee of the departed pitcher, Archibald. While a sad bit of business, he was still glad to be back to his own kingdom, not to mention his beloved wife, Ronica. Home Base is rather far away, and little news travels back and forth between the kingdoms, but the word is that both pitchers and batters have united under his rule. Times are prosperous, yet dull, and upstarts from both factions have begun to rise to prominence, with skilled warriors growing to ever greater heights. From them, newer and more intense rivalries are ever being forged and watched with great anticipation. It is clear that a new war looms on the horizon, and that most of their citizens are eagerly anticipating it. In the end, they are nothing without proper competition, after all. It is only the grand Umpiress who finds herself greatly dismayed by this inevitable turn of events.

Little has changed beneath the Maker's tunnels, but then, little ever does. While more welcoming to outsiders, the people there are even more adverse to dramatic change, in spite their general boredom, than regular mice. The augmented mice had offered to help the more damaged undead (and the recent battle had certainly taken its toll on many of them), but ultimately Grace and her people had politely refused most aid. Sure, their yarn parts might be nowhere near as functional as replacement limbs, but they reasoned that their homes were cold and hard enough already without adding more metal into the mix.

The flock has similarly continued as it always had. I use singular terms, but it was always multiple flocks, which would regularly split and re-merge, not bound to any particular territory. Much to my dismay, and in spite of my best efforts, their contributions and sacrifices in the battle have been largely lost to history. The same goes for brave Augustus, who had saved so many lives, at the cost of the one that mattered the most to him. Most mice only cared about mouse heroes, however, past and present. Namely present. The dead and gone are quickly forgotten, as they kind of have to be. The dead will always dramatically outnumber the living, after all, and people need to keep looking forward.

I still think about that odd orange cat sometimes, and the even stranger power that he wields. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I like to think that he's doing just fine on his own. I have no doubt that he misses Tanzra terribly, who fought and died for a conflict that she had no real stake in, but it is clear that he was far stronger than he had first appeared, and I suspect that applies to more than just his physical body. Even if a small and very much strange one, he's still a dark lord, after all. Those creatures are called greater beings for a reason.

Back to the flock, I still see them from time to time. They aren't really the sorts to visit, of course, but you don't need to walk too far in any direction from the kingdom to find them, and I've found myself rather motivated to get out more these days. I like to think that they are glad to see me as well, but even after so many encounters with the creatures, both amorous and otherwise, they're still very mysterious to me. Not that a little mystery is such a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Travel is also a little safer these days, but not necessarily for the best of reasons. The strange islands overhead continued to grow, and many feared that they would consume the entire sky, but their expansion quickly slowed and eventually ceased. The region above our city, along with a sizable portion of the lands around it is almost perpetually covered in shadow, the hexagrid above blocking the sun. At first, people were anxious but quickly adjusted as the strange, linked shapes remained in place, doing nothing. Within a matter of days of them hovering idly in the vast distance, most had almost forgotten that they were even there. They had just become another part of the landscape.

The Makers clearly had a much harder time adjusting. There are far fewer of them around these days. Many had left. The air was cooler now, but I doubt that they had any trouble surviving it. I think they were all just afraid, such powerful creatures being naturally less capable of accepting the inevitability of the world than we are. I do often wonder where they went, however, and whether their desires to escape the ominous visage in the sky were successful. Many took their dark lords along with them, as well. While the reduced population did make food a little bit harder to come by, we adjusted, with the technologically augmented mice helping a great deal in that regard, having methods of extracting nutrients from unconventional yet abundant materials.

Then, there is the other reason there are fewer and fewer dark lords about: The mice needed something to test their new weaponry against. Ever since the victory of the former hero, Jerin, the dark lords themselves appear to have diminished in power. I suspect that even the trio that we had faced on the battlefield would have posed a significantly lesser threat had they not been so enhanced with Mollenoch's technology. This period of time, already dubbed by many as the "Age of Heroes" has many feeling optimistic. On one hand, it's a good thing that mice can explore in relative safety, but I find myself wondering what exactly happens when you take a mighty hero and remove the noble causes that they are fighting for. What exactly remains?

To this day, the strange shapes in the sky still fill me with dread. If they didn't rain down and destroy us all yesterday, it's not so likely that they will tomorrow, but still, the fear remains. They clearly appeared for a reason, and while I have no cause to believe it that is a malicious or dangerous one, I can't help but envision each one of those little, white hexagons as an eye, staring down at us, watching and judging. Or worse, a mouth, growing ever hungrier until it is inevitably time to feed.

Meryll is gone. Not dead, of course, being an immortal after all, with even the sun posing less of a threat to her kind these days. Most people had already knew that she was a rat, but I don't think many were happy with her new openness about that fact. If you're going to have the nerve to be different, you should at least be properly ashamed of it, in their minds. I don't believe that that was why she left, however. In the end, she's a warrior, and unlike the former generals of Mollenoch, she was not the sort to take pleasure in the more metaphorical sorts of battles.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The rumors stated that she had gone off to a far away land, and the great kingdom beneath the earth hidden there. There, she seeks the mighty rat king, who had long ago slain her parents, leaving her an orphan among us mice, and that she fully intends to both avenge her brood and free her people from his tyranny. She's been gone for quite a while now, but even if she weren't essentially unkillable, I find it hard to believe that she could be defeated by any rat, no matter how powerful.

Samuel and Annabelle have become a couple. Sort of. There was no grand wedding ceremony, and if you asked him (not that I personally would. He seems happier these days, but he's still pretty scary), would insist he and her are simply friends. Apparently the two children which bear a striking resemblance to both of them and are being raised by them just appeared from nowhere. Mercifully, both of those children were born completely healthy, with four good eyes between them. As for Annabelle, things are a little more troubling. Her hearing is fading as well. She doesn't really seem to mind, insisting that she plays with her fingers rather than her ears, but she's still rather young to be suffering from such an affliction. The doctors (another relatively new thing that the city has, mostly made of augmented mice) are concerned that the condition which had claimed her eyes at birth isn't finished with her, and has been continuing to do unseen damage all this time.

She is completely unconcerned, however. Her life is fundamentally unchanged, and she had never planned for it to last forever. As for Samuel, he claims to not be concerned, either, but has been sleeping little, and devoting far too much of his time to the study of healing magics.

That leaves us with Jebediah, I suppose. Ask almost anyone and they will tell you that the winds of adventure had called him to distant lands, and the great hero had departed the city without so much as a word, in search of new battles to fight, and worlds to save. This is, of course, completely untrue. He'd instead returned to his old patch of grass on the outskirts of the city, and is still there for anyone who thinks to seek him out. Nobody does. Just as his name was far more well known than his face, his reputation was more well known than his name. None of his legions of adoring fans would even imagine that the thin, sleepy looking farmer in his tattered overalls, working the fields with a crude wooden scythe was the dreaded Bloody Hell Reaper, devourer of souls. After all, everyone knows that the great hero stood three lengths tall, had eyes of shining gold, and was constantly surrounded by the dark flames of hell itself, carrying a terrifying blade made of bone which screamed with the countless defeated souls that it had absorbed.

Even when others would talk to him about the hero and the past battle, one would expect him to nod along and slyly wink, but no. Instead, it doesn't even cross his mind that they are talking about him, and in fairness, with how outlandish the stories are of those past events, it's no surprise that he wouldn't recognize himself within them. What else can I say about him? He seems happy enough, as he always did. He doesn't show it much, as I know that he doesn't want to upset anyone, but I do feel like the souls of those lost still weigh on him. Even though he was quick to forgive Gwendolynne (I must note, the feeling was far from mutual), and the other augmented mice, forgiving himself has proven to be far more difficult, as it so often is.

Still, like all of us, he carries on, passing the days, some good, some bad, waiting for a tomorrow which we can only hope will come.

<3~

"You've certainly put a lot of work into this." Dimitri, the head of the scholars, and also my employer says as he studies the first draft of my notes. He remains the consummate professional, despite still mourning the loss of his level eleven half-elven fighter who was recently disintegrated by a beholder. "I believe that you were instructed to remain impartial, however, and avoid influencing current events. It was your job to record history as it happened, after all, not to create it."

"Yeah, I tried my best. At first." I say, making little effort to defend myself from what I know to be a valid criticism, "But in the end, I just couldn't. It's not as though anything I did made much of a difference, but that's no defense either, as if I could have done more, I absolutely would have." I add, "I suppose that in the end, I'm not a very good historian after all."

"Your job was to write out the events that we mice had partaken in. As a mouse, yourself, it would be unreasonable to exclude yourself. You, me, all of us, we are making history as we speak, through our own words and our actions. To pretend otherwise, to pretend that we are, somehow, above the issues which happen all around us would be pure folly, and represent a far greater betrayal of your duties."

I can't help but sigh with relief and smile. "I'm glad to hear that you're pleased with my work."

"Well... I wouldn't go quite that far..." he frowns a little. My own spirits fall as well. "Oh, make no mistake, as a whole I am quite impressed by your efforts, and you have very much gone above and beyond the call of duty. I just have a few... minor issues."

I can't help but frown as well. Artists such as myself like to pretend that we're open to criticism, but in the end, that's a lie. What we really want is for people to tell us that our work is absolutely perfect as it is, and the words, unfiltered, straight from our minds, are sheer brilliance. Okay, I'm not stupid, I know that's not the least bit realistic, but I still can't help feeling that way. "What sort of issues?" I ask, gritting my teeth a little, trying to sound apathetic but surely failing.

"Well, for one, we'll need to clean up some of the language around your depiction of that blind bard girl." the scholar says, studying the notes more closely.

"She's a bard! Of course I said some bad things about her! How couldn't I?" I said, "Plus, I warmed up a bit to her, eventually!"

"That is true, but I fear that many of the readers will have difficulty getting past the multiple pages of profanity laden diatribe, diatribes, in fact, about her and her profession. Even aside from coming off a little bit... unhinged, it feels terribly inappropriate to speak of a disabled woman in such terms."

"It would be way worse to treat her differently just because she's blind!" I say, quite annoyed, but quickly calming myself, "But, fair enough. I suppose that trimming a little bit of that subject matter wouldn't be the end of the world."

"I'm glad that you think so. That brings us to another matter. The... um..." the elderly mouse clearly struggles to find the proper words, "Portion depicting the... inter-species relations. It will also need to be cut."

"Wait, are you serious?" I exclaim, leaning forwards, slamming my paws down against the dried mud platform which serves as a desk, "That was a crucial step in my own character arc! The story won't make any sense without it!"

"It went on for twenty seven pages." Dimitri sighs, "And frankly, your character, as depicted seemed largely unchanged afterwards."

"Okay, maybe the character arc was a little more subtle than I implied..." I reply.

"Regardless, as it stands, the work is completely inappropriate for younger readers... or older ones, for that matter. I am in no position to judge your... hobbies." he says, looking to me with an expression which implies that regardless of his position, he fully intends to judge away, "But they involved a level of anatomical detail which, while informative in a strange sort of way, really doesn't fit the narrative as a whole. While earlier I had said that it was understandable to play your role in the events in question, this comes of as... well, let's just say 'self indulgent', and leave it at that."

I can't help but be disappointed, but I suppose that in the end the story wasn't really meant to be about me and my romantic escapades. That said, I can only imagine what the editor will think of my half-finished and currently untitled autobiographical follow-up work. It's pretty much all just graphic mouse-on-bird sex scenes.

"Ugh, fine. I suppose it wouldn't kill me to gloss over the part, and leave the details to the readers imagination." I finally sigh.

"Yes. And I have no doubt that said 'details' will be trapped in said imaginations for many months to come." The editor shook his head, "I know they shall be in mine." he pauses, leaning in closer, and blinks, "Are you... writing all of this down?"

"Um... no?" I say, hiding my quill and parchment under the rim of the desk. Some habits are very difficult to break, after all, and so long as the world keeps turning, there shall always be more notes to take, and more stories to tell.

<3~

Mollenoch wasn't the only one to survive the destruction of his colossus. While lacking a proper safety harness, the control chamber she had sat in was heavily padded and relatively resistant to damage. While Claire's body may have escaped the battle unbroken, her heart was another matter entirely. For better or worse, however, she was used to being heartbroken, and it grew a little easier each time.

He was far from the first mouse to disappoint her. She couldn't really fault him, or any of the others, either. As desperately as she had wanted to convince herself that he had truly changed, deep down she had always known better. Her convictions were powerful, and rarely understood by other mice, after all. No matter how much she had tried to shape others to fit them, it would never seem to work out. It was clear that she was destined to be alone, as no mouse could truly hope to understand her or her philosophies.

She froze, mid step, the air behind her growing cold, and turned to see the huge figure which had landed behind her.

~Well, look at what we have here. Hardly a snack, and nowhere near enough to settle my mood, but you will have to do.

The voice of the dark overlord Ahnymah Ex Mortis echoed through her mind. It stood on black, scaled legs, ending in powerful curved claws. Its dark feathers flowed in the wind, body crackling with tendrils of crimson, arcane energies, flowing across its great wings and tail feathers. All the while, silent and expressionless, six red, phantom mice comprised of pure dark power hovered in place behind the terrible figure.

"Wow..." Claire said, her eyes wide as saucers, unable to even look away, let alone run. "Amazing.. that's just so... cool..."

The great bird looked flustered, but far from disappointed. Sure, many had described her as powerful, terrifying, even great, but few had appreciated the real effort that went into maintaining this stylish look.

~Hmph. We see that you can appreciate greatness when you see it.

The dark overlord hesitated a little, spreading a black, feathered wing and studying it,

~...although we have often wondered if the red energy really fits. Perhaps we should have just stuck with the black...

"Oh, no, it's perfect!" Claire blurted out, "Too much black and you risk just looking like a featureless shadow! The red gives just a little glow, which helps highlight your sharp and powerful features!"

~Yes! Of course! We thought so, too!

The overlord spoke with an uncharacteristic excitement before catching themselves and clearing their throat.

~Well, we suppose, as feeble and pathetic as you may be, that you do have good taste. We shall be merciful, and spare your life this day.

The black bird turned, spread its great wings and moved to leap away when the mouse woman extended a paw and called out, "Wait!"

~What is it?

Claire frowned a little. "Um, it's just that... well, you know, you're super dark and powerful and amazing and everything... and, well, I don't really know you, so it kind of sounds silly now that I think about it..."

~Speak, vermin. While you still can.

The bird remained in place, folding its wings once more, turned away from the mouse. The words still didn't come much easier for Claire, however, even if she did mange to, eventually, force them out. "Um, I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to... you know... help me..." The mouse folded her paws at the front of her dress, looking away like a shy child, "Destroy the world?"

The black body of Ahnymah shook in place, but it didn't turn. The dark overlord remained silent, and Claire backed up a step, worried that the creature was overcome with rage. Finally, it spoke.

~We did not realize... not until this very moment...

It turned its head, its bright red eyes flowing with bloody tears. That may sound rather horrific, but that was just how the dark overlord cried with joy.

~...that we have been waiting our entire life for someone to ask us that!

Claire was similarly overcome, not even considering how dangerous and potentially disrespectful the gesture might be, she ran forward and reached up, looking into the beautiful (in her mind), shining eyes of the great bird, her own similarly glistening with tears. Her rational mind may have screamed countless warnings to her, but in the end, it was but a feeble, impotent whisper compared to the voice of her heart: That at long, long last, she had found a true soul-mate.

The dark overlord lowered its head to the ground.

~Come, little one! Upon our back! Let us strive undo all of this wretched existence together, no matter how long it may take!

"Thank you... so much..." the mouse wiped away her own tears. "I was almost ready to give up. Thank you... um..."

~You can call us... Melanie. Um, you know... if you want.

"I'm Claire.." the mouse woman smiled, climbing between the black wings, taking a tight grip on the feathers of the dark overlords neck as it took to the skies. "And I do want. I want very much."

As the pair darted off to engage in wanton destruction, and discuss what sort of ornaments would look best adorned in their fur and feathers respectively, the bright red energy mice smiled to one another and quickly followed, happy to see that their their mistress had finally found a true friend, and perhaps something far more.

<3~

"...with the presidential address delayed once again, many citizens fear that the mysterious airborne constructs could spell doom for us all." the anchorwoman on a television blaring in the broad window of a nearby electronics shop said. "In other news, there has still been no explanation for the series of explosions which had rocked a local suburb some days ago. The mayor was quick to blame the incident on, and I quote, 'a roving band of foreign, dark skinned youths, hopped up on marijuana and violent video games', and while local civil rights activists have called the remarks both racist and borderline nonsensical, none were able to offer a more reasonable counter-theory."

The well dressed woman, smiled as an image of a dark, fuzzy figure (both in terms of picture quality, and the subject itself) appeared onscreen alongside her, a white cat, shrouded in shadow, seemingly covered in strange, red armor. "In lighter news, there has been another sighting of the so-called 'platinum angel', everyone's favorite four-legged superhero who made a major splash in the recent days since her first appearance, and is loved by everyone. Well, almost everyone. After a fateful encounter on the waterfront with a local drug smuggling organization, our furred protector had made a point to send a clear message to anyone that dared to threaten our fair city: That crime doesn't pay."

The image shifted to a video, a helicopter shot of a raging, heart-shaped inferno, surrounded by the littered remnants of the destroyed warehouses and, of course, dozens and dozens of blackened, burnt corpses.

"There were no survivors. And now, sports!"