Bastion of Darkness

Epilogue

IT WAS SUMMER and it was Avalon, and the threat of the talons, and of Thalasi, was forever ended. But to Belexus and Brielle, Bryan and Rhiannon, Ardaz, Arien, and Bellerian, the edge of joy had been forever dulled, replaced by a distant but undeniable sense of melancholy. An age had ended in Aielle, the Age of Magic, and nowhere was that more evident than in the boughs of Avalon. Still beautiful was the wood, but that preternatural essence of the place had been replaced now. For nearly a millennium Avalon had stood in eternal springtime, but now it was summer in the wood, with autumn fast closing in.

“Suren ’tis time for resting,” Bellerian noted, and Ardaz, feeling his great age, was quick to agree.

Also in agreement was Desdemona, the black cat curled about the wizard’s neck. She yawned and stretched and dug her claws in a bit too hard.

Yelping, Ardaz pulled her away and tossed her into the air. Unlike those many other times, she didn’t transform into a bird, though, for the magic was gone now, simply gone. She landed gracefully on sure cat feet, turned her back to Ardaz, her tail twitching, and moved to Rhiannon, finding a comfortable perch on the young woman’s lap.

Ardaz looked to his sister Brielle, their expressions showing that neither had missed the not-so-subtle reminder that the Age of Magic was lost.

“Thalasi be damned,” Jennifer Glendower, no longer the Emerald Witch, cursed softly.

“Indeed,” Ardaz said. “Indeed.”