10. Epiloog

A wooden clock flashed before Ardex’ eyes and landed in a tree. The Goddess of Time—a white panda—rolled out of it, followed by the love of her life: the sun badger Didrik.

“Ironically, I do not have much time.”

They stood before each other. Ismaraldah was a half goddess, the daughter of one of his siblings. And that felt strange, especially because she was tiny and still more powerful than him. She controlled time!

“Fortunately, Feria told me your problem in the future, so I traveled back to the past to meet you.”

Silence returned.

“Ardex, sweet Ardex,” she said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“You can see the future, right? So you know if I’m making the right choice?”

She and Didrik sighed simultaneously. They nervously circled their clock. How could they be out of time?

“That’s not how it works. Each time we travel somewhere and change something, the entire timeline changes to make up for it. I have lived a future in which I granted your wish. And it’s the exact reason why we are in a hurry now.”

“So my wish is bad?”

“No. As I just said, it changes. If I grant your wish this time, the timeline might form around it in a completely different way! That’s why we must be careful. Remove the wrong pebble and suddenly Schola never existed at all!”

“But, erm,” Didrik added, “the rules of time travel might also, erm, change soon.”

“What? What are you planning?”

“No time!” Ismaraldah squeaked. She was … she was glowing? “You want me to do it or not?”

He looked at the starry sky. He had learned something about himself now. He could either do his heavy duty as God of Death or remember the consequences—but not both.

He told a different reason to the outside world. “Yes. I thought about everything. As soon as I have this power, I can end this curse of us against them. Without taking away the happiness of being together or living in a herd.”

Ismaraldah reached for the Flamefeaster with a pained look. Ardex always wore his Heavenly Object around his paw or thick neck. She closed her eyes and muttered some words in the original language of the demigods, which the animals replaced long ago with Dovish.

His Flamefeaster shook and glowed. The frozen flame came to life, only for a few flickers, then froze in a new state—slightly larger than before.

“It … it is done.”

Ismaraldah sung around his neck for a warm hug. Didrik, surprisingly, did the same. Then they walked back to their wooden clock, kissing, and shot to a different time period.

Ashorra found joy in chasing away other animal’s Deathmates.

Today he had visited a poor farmer’s family at the edge of the capital. On entry, the dark room was littered with ghosts, like statues slowly coming out of the walls and attacking the sick family. He brought them food. He let soldiers clean the home and repair it. He promised they could always visit if problems returned.

When he left, each family member’s Death floated on a hill far away, frustrated and only killing time.

He had become Buhast. It was tough, but he slowly learned to let go and not desire … anything. More land, more riches, more revenge. He just was.

He had publicly announced his mistakes, how wrong he was, and how everything would change. All faiths were allowed. All opinions. Trade for themselves and Tamli became free again, which provided enough money to actually help Schola prosper.

In fact, Ashorra was even tempted to cut up the rules about succession, looking for a new king outside of his own royal family. Of course, many called him weak and insane now. But that was fine. He didn’t desire everyone’s love or acceptance, and allowed every opinion.

Though Marili never left his head. Regularly, he spent his evenings on the balcony with Ardex, who had to admit he had grown to love his conversations with the sweet Tamli elephant.

“Your Flamefeaster looks different,” Ashorra noticed. Ardex didn’t react. “Sometimes … sometimes I wish I could forget Marili. Forget the past. If those voices and bad memories would just be erased, it would almost be easy to be a good king.”

Ardex frowned at him. Ashorra nodded to the Flamefeaster again.

“Some rumors have started that some gods, some Heavenly Objects, have the power to erase …”

The saber-toothed tiger stepped aside, his Flamefeaster out of the elephant’s reach.

“No, you don’t want to forget Marili. The memory of her is exactly what keeps you on the right path. Knowing what it’s like to lose someone, allows you to love them more today. No love without loss.”

Ashorra laughed. Ardex almost sounded like his grandfather. “Where are these quotes coming from? Is there a guide to playing a wise god?”

Ardex raised his eyebrow even further. “You find me … wise?”

“Ah. Of course. You invented these quotes yourself.” Ashorra smiled and poked his trunk into the god’s side. “Forget I said anything.”

“I can give you another one.”

“Oh please, keep them to yourself.”

“No connection without vulnerability. I learned that one from a stubborn elephant.”

“Oh gods.” Ashorra stepped down the stairs. He could visit a few homes today to ask if they needed anything. It was a fragile peace, but the Tamli didn’t seem interested in attacking, especially not after losing that many soldiers. They’d rather swim in their gold.

“No freedom without force, how about that? Just off the top of my head, eh?”

Ashorra’s shaking laughter filled the starry sky. “Be well, God of Death. The world isn’t ready to continue without you. If I could do anything to help Bella heal …”

“You could be a good king. And keep your Death at bay.”

They shook each other’s paws. He waved as Ardex left, in a hurricane of fire and thunder, back to the Throne of Tomorrow on Origina.

And with that, dear reader, Ashorra started the Golden Age of Schola. Incredible peace, prosperity, and progress. Until, of course, the Hens came with a bigger army, and the gods weren’t around anymore to save them. Unless the Tamli, of course, who were never conquered. Fortunately for Ashorra and the others, all this was still far in the future.

And so it was that life continued …