#epilogues

“Where is she?” you demand. “Where is Velora?”

“Calm yourself. Your heart remains safe. I’m not the villain your old men have made me out to be,” he says, settling himself into a chair.

“Where is she?” you yell, blue fire erupting from your hands, and surrounding the Orc King.

As suddenly as he was surrounded by the magic it is gone again. The King swats it away like it is nothing more than an annoying fly.

The Orc King lets out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I’ll let you see your poor Velora. But only for a moment. I wish to speak to you, and the longer your compatriots sit idle the more likely it will be that the fighting will start again. Perhaps showing you that your heart is safe will calm you down enough to talk.”

The villain calls back his orc guard and tells them to bring the guest.

Several tense quiet minutes pass and suddenly Velora sweeps into the throne room in a plain white dress looking as beautiful and ethereal as ever. Her black hair, a rarity among the elves, is shining and god - she is beautiful. But she has several bandages all along her arms.

She runs up to you and kisses you fiercely.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she whispers in elvish to you.

“You’re injured,” you say in the broken language you’ve tried to learn for her over the last four years. You touch the bandages. “Did he-“

“No, no,” she says. “The Orc King saved me. He healed me.”

“What?”

“Trust me. Listen to him. Believe him,” she said, leaning down and kissing you once more.

The Orc King chuckles. “Please listen to me, but only believe what you determine to be true. Now, my dear, if you’ll excuse us? I believe Urlick will direct you to your friends, if you can kindly convince them to wait and not do anything terribly stupid.”

“Yes,” she says with a bow of her head that is just enough to be noticeable. “Thank you.”

“Thank you my dear. It was charming talking to you,” the Orc King says. He turns back to you the second she leaves. “Now, your heart is safe, your friends are as safe as I can reasonably allow. Can we please just talk for a few moments?”

You’re not about to give your sworn enemy for the last four years the chance to catch you flatfooted, so you remain standing.

“I’d like to tell you a story, and you can feel free to stop me when it sounds familiar,” the King says as he sits back down in the plain wooden chair.

“There’s a child, growing up on Earth, they have friends and a life and it’s merely ok. But one day, as a teenager, they get transported by magic to a faraway land. A land of magic and strange creatures and great evil and great good. An aging council of immortal wizards tell the hero that they are the key, the key to stopping a great and terrible evil. They are given powers and training, and they make allies, friends, lovers. There’s a despotic king, an evil king that they alone must stop, and over the course of their journey, the hero grows but there is also loss. Then at last the hero faces the evil King and they do great battle.”

“You know who I am. You know my story. So what?”

He continues, exactly like an old teacher ignoring interrupting students. “The evil is defeated, the hero victorious, but before the celebrations can truly begin the wizards who called the hero and gave them power, say that the journey is over, it’s time to go back. Things belong in the world that they came from, they say. That’s the way it is they say. Without time for an argument the hero is sent away, to pick up their old life where they left off. Without their friends, without their magic, with old wounds and useless knowledge. The home they went back to was no longer comforting, no longer home. Home was where they were just exiled from. The journey back is harsh and hard. But they make it back only to find some new start up hero coming to stop them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you wondering why your magic doesn’t work on me?” the Orc King asks.

“Why?”

He holds out a dry, cracked hand and tiny magic blue flames lick across his skin. “I was taken from Harlem in New York City in 1924. I was seventeen. How old were you?”

“I’m… well I guess I’m twenty one now. I came here when I was seventeen too,” you say, dumbfounded.

“That was about how old I was when I finished up my quest. Where are you from?”

You tell him and suddenly feel like you need to sit down.

“I’ve always wanted to go there, but never got the chance,” he sighs. “So when I got here… over a hundred years ago, it was the elves who were the bad guys. Ha, I can see the disbelief all over your face. But let me say this, when they found out you were summoned by the wizards the old elves reviled and feared you, didn’t they?”

You nod. “Some of them wanted to exile me. A couple even wanted to execute me.”

“That is because they still fear me. I was summoned because your heart’s great grandfather, the one whom she is named for ironically enough, had stolen a spell of great power and destruction from the wizards. They claimed that they couldn’t get it back from him, lest he capture them and harness their powers to cast his spell to bring doom upon the world. I agreed to help, but only once I saw how badly the orcs were treated. They were less than second class citizens, they were almost slaves. Seen as unintelligent animals whose only use was to be used as manual labor or pack animals. Can you understand how that felt to me? Especially since I had the power to fix it.”

You nod, not entirely sure if you believe him. There would have been something, someone would have told you that the elves used to be the strong ones, instead of hiding in constant fear of orc attacks.

“Out of curiosity, what year did you come from?”

“Uh, 2015.”

“How is it there? Has it gotten better?”

“Better, yeah. Still not fixed, but they’re trying. It’s better than when you left though.”

“Oh good. Anyways, I faced the despotic elven king and we fought. He had terrible magic the likes of which I’d seen before. It was vaguely familiar to me but I couldn’t place it. In the end though I was victorious, I stopped the spell, and returned the power to the wizards. That was when I found out what the spell really was. The elves were trying to get back their immortality. Which had been stolen from them by a strange and powerful man decades earlier. Of course I tried to question the wizards about it, but they just sent me back without explanations.”

“Say all that’s true. You’re a hero like me, you’ve done all of this before. So what? Do you think that excuses what you’ve done?” you ask.

“And what, exactly, have I done?” the King asks.

“You drove the elves out of their lands! You burned down their entire forests out of spite! Did you know that I was at Ashe! I saw that slaughtered village! The village you massacred!”

“Hmm…” the old king mutters, rubbing his chin in thought. “I see. Well I see what you see. As for driving out the elves, well that was part and parcel to the freeing of the orcs from their overlords. There were battles, people died, land taken or retaken. My people, they were angry and I tried to keep them in check when I got back. But the orcs are proud people, their blood runs hot, and they are the kind of people that don’t forgive easily. And their scars run deep. So true, yes I did that. As for burning down their forests, well they weren’t theirs anymore and wood burns and fuels industry,” the King explained. “And you were at Ashe…”

“I saw your aftermath.”

“You stumbled into a delicate political situation young hero. I have been dealing with a growing revolt and attempted coup within my nation for some time. My loyal forces found a rebel encampment and the battle turned into a massacre. My forces laid waste to the town despite my ardent objections. When I found out what they did, I rode out and killed those responsible, as you witnessed. I killed my own people yes, but they were traitors and murderers. So I hardly think you can coach me on affairs of state or how I deal with traitors. I wonder how much of what you’ve been told has been rebel propaganda, since they are the anti-elven faction that so badly wants full scale war; how much of it is old elven hatreds that neither I nor they can unlearn. Could this whole thing have been resolved peacefully? Possibly. But I think it would take a better statesman than me to resolve this whole thing bloodlessly.”

You’ve been give a lot to think about. Nothing this man has said has totally lined up with what you were told. You just so happened to believe what the wizards told you, because they were the good guys, weren’t they? Isn’t that how it always worked? They summoned you, they gave you power, they’re the ones trying to maintain peace. Or was it just them trying to maintain the status quo regardless of whether or not it was right. You keep thinking about the way the wizards were so totally convinced you would have to kill the Orc King. They refused to tell you that there were any other options.

“A few more things,” he says gently. “If you’ll excuse an old man who likes to talk.” He smiles. He looks like one of your school acquaintance’s grandfathers. “Your magic, you’re incredibly adept at it. But know that it isn’t infinite. The wizard’s horde their stores of power because it keeps them immortal. But once your finite stores of magic are used up, you’ll live a normal life span. The wizards didn’t tell you this because they want to send you back without any of your magic left.”

“How do you know?”

“I fought those who sought to steal immortality, of course I figured it out eventually. Also I don’t look like a hundred and twenty year old man do I? I look in my fifties at best.”

You shake your head.

“And if you do find yourself back home and you want to return, you’ll have to figure out stepping. You’ve got to walk between the heartbeats of the universe. Take large steps but you have to go quickly. Also when you’re faced with the snaggletooth hermit out in the ice fields, he speaks in opposites. Yes is no, no is yes, left is right. But he knows everything. And there’s a shortcut when you get to the labyrinth, just go around it and not through it. Trust me, it’ll save you years. And I’m pretty sure that’s all of it,” he says after a long pause. “Yup that’s it. Oh wait!” He pulls a dull silver ring off his hand and gives it to you. “Is Lusario still with the wizards? He still doing the noble, new initiate routine?”

You nod, looking at the silver little band.

“You give that to him and tell him that I’m bitter and angry but I still love him.”

“You-“

“Yup.”

“Now what?”

“Well that’s up to you,” he says. “I can get dressed in to my armor and we can do battle. You’ll win of course. Youth and endurance always win over age and old wounds. Or you can walk out of here and take your friends with you.”

“You’re leaving the choice to me?”

“You are the Hero after all,” he says with a smile as he settles back into the chair. “Of course it is your choice.”

----

The ring in your hand holds your attention most of the trip back.

The inscription on the inner side of the band reads, “To my love, yours always, Lusario”.

You can’t help but think this whole thing was a plot, some desperate attempt to save himself.

Maybe this ring was stolen from a wizard’s old lover, or maybe forged to look that way. Or maybe the ring really was given to the Hero at one point.

If the Orc King was a Hero at all.

Maybe the Orc King, who said his name was Malcolm, stole power from the wizards or the elves or some other means. Maybe he really was an old Hero, shunned by the wizards who never expected him to return.

The entire trip back to the elven capital you are silent, speaking only to Velora. She is the only one you told of what happened in the throne room, of your now lingering doubts, and the last words of the Orc King said to you, “there are three sides to every story: your side, what they tell you, and the truth. Good luck with that.”

In return Velora told you of her capture. When you were ambushed by what you assumed were the loyal Orc army, it was in fact the rebels. They attacked you, to try and lure you into fighting and deposing the Orc King for them. She was in captivity for three days as the rebels beat and harmed her while trying to lure you to the Orc King. But she was rescued by the Orc King himself who defeated the rebels single-handedly when he found out that they’d captured her. He took her to the castle to heal her wounds, they talked, she learned much the same as you, but before she could be returned to the safety of the elven border forest, you assaulted the castle, so there was not much to do but wait.

This whole situation has your mind reeling. In all the stories you can remember the bad guy was never this nice, this easy to beat. And you weren’t fooling yourself, you are not some prodigy with magic, it never came easy to you, you had to work very hard to get this far.

No, something was different. It had to be. Or was the Orc King so much better at manipulation than anyone could have possibly imagined?

Maybe he was trying to twist you to his side, to fight against the wizards. What did he tell you? That youth and endurance would win against age?

The night before you return to elven territory, the place you now catch yourself thinking of as home, Velora finds you outside, quietly watching the sky, the stars. Unfamiliar constellations but so welcoming.

“What is it dear heart?” she asks with a voice like a sweet spring breeze.

“I’m trying to listen,” you whisper in reply.

“For what?” she asks.

“The heartbeat of the universe,” you say. “If Malcolm, the Orc King, if he was right… the wizards are going to send me back. But I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.”

She reaches over and grabs your hand. “But if you are sent away… you’ll never be able to return,” she says with distress clear in her face and eyes.

“Well if the Orc King was right, I can find me way back by stepping between the heartbeats of the universe to start my journey back.”

“Surely the wizards won’t send you away. They can’t! You’ve earned your place here!”

“I know,” you say with a squeeze of her hand. “And I hope he’s very wrong. But I can’t shake this feeling that he’s not. And I want to be able to find my way back to you, if something should happen. No matter what it takes.”

“If that happens then I’ll wait for you,” she says. “I’ll fight those old bastards if they take you from me. I’ll burn down their entire Tower of White. I’ll bring the armies of the elves to bear.”

You smile, you can’t help but smile. Velora always was a fan of fighting, using her incredible martial skills to get what she wanted.

“No need for that,” you say. “Not when we don’t know what’s going to happen. And besides we don’t want them sealing off the world behind me.”

“Fine. Then I shall wait, and listen.”

Another smile crosses your face as the pair of you sit down together in silence to try and hear the heartbeat of the universe.

You return to the elven lands the next day.

The word has already spread somehow. The revels have already started. The Orc King has been defeated, the favored daughter returned, the Hero victorious.

You were victorious.

Yet the win feels hollow somehow.

Especially when you see the wizards, and Lusario, waiting for you, just out of sight of the Elven High Council.

You steadfastly ignore them. You know in your gut this is it. They’re sending you home.

Velora catches your eye and she knows it to. Her hand moves to her swords, but you intercept them and hold her hands in your own.

You ignore the wizards as they try to call you over. You greet the Elven High Council instead, and Velora’s mother. You explain what you think should happen with the orc nation, and you stress for peace.

A messenger comes over telling you the wizards need to see you immediately and tries to pull you away, but before a second has passed with their hands on you, Velora as a sword on their neck. The second the wizard’s messenger let go of you, your heart shoves him into the crowd. She quickly grabs you and pulls you into the crowd in another direction, quickly losing your pursuers in celebration.

You quickly find a small shop willing to open to the Hero and the nation’s favored daughter. The two of you waste no time in buying rings of woven rowan and ash with rubies in their cores, like little hearts.

In the presence of your friends you quickly exchange rings and vows, kisses and promises.

You tell her once again that she is your heart before Lusario himself bursts in and pulls you out of there and away from your wife.

There’s a strange feeling as you step through the door, that feeling of thinking there is one more step at the top of the stairs when there isn’t and landing on a step you didn’t know was there at the same time.

You commit the feeling to memory, remembering the weird motions that lead up to it, the absence of sound in between the heartbeats of the universe.

Suddenly you are thousands of miles away, in the ivory tower of the wizards, the grand castle that holds the very font of magic.

“You’re late,” the old group of wizards snap at Lusario.

“My fault,” you say with a forced grin. “I wanted to stay with my wife for a bit longer.”

“The magic keeping you here is almost totally depleted, we have to send you back to your world immediately,” Arsen says angrily.

“That’s not true is it?” you ask. “Cause if it was you wouldn’t have needed to drag me all the way here. I could have stayed there until the last possible second and then just vanished.”

“You don’t understand,” Lusario says, still the only one of the wizards with any color left in his beard. “Everything needs to be in its proper place for life to continue like it should.”

“Also not true,” you mumble. “But if you insist.”

You throw the ring Malcolm gave you at Lusario. He catches it and in that second realizes what it was.

“He said he’s bitter and angry but he still loves you,” you repeat the message.

The second you say those words you know the Orc King wasn’t lying about that. You see the truth in Lusario’s face.

“How much of that is true?” you ask as Arsen grabs you and starts pulling you towards the same portal of blue flame you were pull through in the beginning all those years ago. “You called him to stop the elves from regaining their immortality. He freed the orcs from servitude didn’t he? You even sent someone to take the elves magic and immortality from them in the first place didn’t you?”

You never get an answer, just Lusario’s crying face that is either nodding or shaking in the horrific knowledge that he recruited and trained you to kill his lover.

---

You’ve been back for a week.

Only a week, but it’s felt like a lifetime. Everything here is too noisy and quick and rude. It doesn’t feel familiar anymore. It was like you fell asleep and this world was the dream. You’re not connected in any way to it any more.

You could only stand the city for three days before you left for whatever quiet patch of wilderness was closest. Even the small towns were too loud.

You’ve only been back a week. The rowan and ash ring is still on your finger. It is still growing ever so slightly, and it will continue to grow for as long as Velora loves you.

The big city was too much. Even if it isn't that big by the standards of the world, it's too much for you. You flee the city, the people, those that you once knew a different lifetime ago. As far away as you can possibly get, in a forest you find quiet, the first real quiet that you hear it. You hear that heartbeat of the universe. You pick up your foot and quickly take that first awkward step.

It was just like the Orc King said.

Where ever you were it was just cold, so very very cold. So you start walking. Hopefully you can get back quickly.

There are some things you need to address. It’s cold so you summon a tiny blue flame, but another of the Orc King’s warnings come back to you. You cease your magic and elect to remain warm by walking continuously forward.