*comment Interlude - Litany for the Lost
*image header_cepi.png center Epilogue, Litany for the Lost. Carve meaning into the ashes left behind.
*page_break

Months later, in the Old Cathedral, the saintess pores over the leather tome, the air around her crackling with the remnants of a broken seal. She drinks the witch's words like nectar, her tales of curses bound to a dying saintess, of a @{pronvar brother|sister|sibling} plagued by an age-old hex.

Shivering in her seat, the saintess thinks of the mage—mum on
${their} actions even as ${they} laid broken on the dungeon floor—and like magic all the pieces fall into place: the massacre, the assassination, the mage's betrayal—sacrifice.

The memory sears back to the forefront of her consciousness, a solemn @{pronvar man|woman|mage}
amidst the pyre, ${eyecolor} eyes murky despite the licking flames. She remembers ${their} constant presence by her bedside in the throes of her ailment, the
*if (charming > 50)
    joyous ring of ${their} laughter as ${they} @{plural talk|talks} by the firelight.
*else
    small, rare smiles ${they} offered in talks by the firelight.

*if (ilyarom)
    *if (gender != "female")
        $!{their} gentle hand against her cheek, her name an oath upon ${their} lips as she promised ${them} forever.
    *else
        Her gentle hand against her cheek, the healer's name an oath upon her lips as she promised her forever.
*else
    $!{their} broken form inside the cell, voice quiet with resignation as ${they} told her [i]leave, this is my end and it cannot be yours too[/i].

She weeps, then, strangled sobs echoing down the winding church hallways. Even as the clergy circles around her in worry, even as days turn into nights and her meals sit untouched, she weeps.

And then she writes.
*page_break
Through criers, in papers, on the lips of every shopkeep and tavern-goer, the saintess's words swell and spread over the land.

In the east, an old widow with sunken eyes and ivory hair stood bowing over tombstones by the inn. She had thought her tear ducts long barren, yet as the letter is read she weeps anew and prays for the souls of the two @{pronvar sons|children|children} she'd outlived.

On the northern road, in a camp fifty paces from the border, the tale is relaid to the young ambassador. He disappears into the woods that night, and it is a week before the caravan finds him again, solemn and willow-thin. If for the rest of the trip his smile glints like a dagger upon the mention of his brother, his king, no one dares say aught of it.

In the capital, on a lonely throne of gilded gold, the king drops the sheaf of parchment like molten coal. Eyes wide and hands trembling, he marches to his chambers—unhearing of his steward, unhearing of his knights—and is not seen again for a week.

In markets, barracks, homes, in the farthest reaches of the kingdom, murmurs of the mage again grace the tongue of every noble and every peasant. Yet the stage was set and the pyre lit, and there is not even a grave to visit, no family to apologize to.

An address is called, at last, sanctioned by the crown on the very grounds where the pyre once burned. The masses stood at attention as the hierophant took the stage, his countenance grim as he recounts the savior they martyred by their own hands.

[i]May you live a better life next[/i], the hierophant mourns at the end of his address, and the congregation is rapt, echoing after him; ten thousand voices in the square and countless more beyond, earnest in their unison:

[i]May you live a better life next, Hero of Sienan[/i].
*achieve end
*set memorypoint "endpart1"
*page_break END OF BOOK I
*if (noble > 64)
    *achieve noblej
*if (noble < 36)
    *achieve pragmaticj
*if (charming > 64)
    *achieve charmingj
*if (charming < 36)
    *achieve reservedj
*if (emotional > 64)
    *achieve emotionalj
*if (emotional < 36)
    *achieve stoicj
*if (optimistic > 64)
    *achieve optimisticj
*if (optimistic < 36)
    *achieve cynicalj
*goto_scene Chapter6_Thulrum