And so it went.

There were many things still to do, many decisions to make. Plans were made to reclaim the mountain caverns, to rebuild a sensible mana font from the ruins of the great one; to dig a great tunnel into the foothills, where travelling would be easier; to turn the caves into a great new city, where people could set questions of race aside and be people, where the old laws could be examined anew, not by a great governing body with all its conflicting interests, but by two people, whose thoughts were very closely-aligned indeed.

Many plans indeed would be needed for it – the city needed to maintain its large tunnels and chambers, larger than the Vhark would normally build, so that all races might be comfortable there. Codes of law from those races would need to be acquired and looked over, that all sources were fairly considered, and that all who came might understand from the start that their thoughts would have merit, so long as they kept to the city’s ideal.

But such things were well in the future. For the twins, the greatest part of their saga came to a conclusion in the place it had begun, in the caverns and tunnels of Druumat; for the Magekin, their adventures ended, even before their brother would hatch, much as they had begun nearly sixteen years before – with an egg, warming in its hearth; the twins equally proud, shimmering with all colours as they gazed upon the blank shell, and their consort, dark as a shadow, curling a wing around each.