DREAMWIELDER Book 1 of The Dreamwielder Chronicles

Chapter 36: EPILOGUE

Makarria looked out from the balcony to watch the sun rising over the white city. Sol Valaróz. She'd heard much of the city from her grandfather over the years, but even his stories did not do it justice. In contrast to Col Sargoth, which was enormous but rigid and menacing, Sol Valaróz was a beautiful, sprawling mess of ancient buildings covering the mesa, each and every one of them different from the others. I suppose I'll have plenty of time to explore it now, Makarria mused, but she was cheered little by the thought. All she could think about was her grandfather.

"It's nearly time," Prisca said from inside their room in the Royal Palace. "Here, I have something for you"

Makarria went to her stiffly, still unused to walking in a gown and heeled shoes.

"It's your grandfather's ring," Prisca said, taking Makarria's hand and slipping the ring onto the thumb of her left hand. "He left it for me to find when the two of you left. It's yours now."

Tears filled Makarria's eyes at the thought of the day she fled with her grandfather on the skiff, seemingly a lifetime ago.

"Don't be sad for him," Prisca told her. "His time had come. He knew that long before you ever made him young again."

"He's one with Tel Mathir now," Makarria replied. "That's what he told me would happen."

Prisca smiled and kissed Makarria on the forehead. "Come now, it's time to go. You have a kingdom to rule."

Makarria sniffled back the tears in her eyes and nodded. "Alright."

Outside in the corridor, Caile stood waiting for her. "Are you ready for this?"

"I guess so."

Caile grinned and ushered her forward. "It'll get easier and don't worry, I'll be there right beside the throne with your mother and father. Once the coronation is over, take your seat on the throne and wait. Today's business will be simple enough, just a bunch of aristocrats, ambassadors, and guild masters coming to swear their fealty to you. Just thank them, and I'll fill in any necessary formalities you might miss."

Makarria nodded wordlessly and followed after him toward the throne room. It was as if she was walking in a dream. The last two weeks had been such a whirlwind she could hardly keep track of it all. With the death of Guderian, the Sargothian advisors had surrendered, along with King Lorimer of Golier. Talitha called for a council of all the highest Sargothian officials and together they began the long process of choosing a new ruler. The Sargothian Empire was officially dissolved. By then, Siegbjorn had arrived in Col Sargoth, along with Caile. Caile brought news of Wulfram's death and the surrender of Sargoth's generals. Taera, he explained, had gone back to Kal Pyrthin to be anointed queen now that the war was over. At hearing this, Talitha urged Makarria to go to Sol Valaróz with all due haste. "You are needed there," is all she would say. Caile offered to accompany her, seeing as how he knew as much about Valaróz as anyone, and so they set sail with Siegbjorn on the airship: Makarria, Prisca, Galen, Caile, and Lorentz, who had been freed from the torture tower along with all the other prisoners.

When they had arrived in Sol Valaróz, they learned of Parmo's assassination. Makarria was devastated. She cried and cried and could not be consoled for days, but Prisca finally put an end to it. "There's no time for crying like a little girl anymore," she had said. "You're to be queen now, and a queen must be strong."

"A queen?" Makarria asked incredulously. "Me?"

"I've renounced my claim," Prisca told her. "I am a farmer and a mother—that's what I've been my whole life. You are young and already stronger than I've ever been or ever will be. Valaróz is your responsibility now. Prince Caile has promised to stay here as your advisor, and your father and I will be here... to be your parents and to help you."

The weight of it all had pushed all other thoughts aside. And now, here Makarria was in the throne room of Sol Valaróz, standing before hundreds of Valarions, all of them staring at her adoringly. The crown Vala herself once wore sat on a cushion beside the throne, waiting for Makarria to place it on her head.

Nothing will ever be the same again, she realized. I'm a queen now. More than that—I'm a dreamwielder. Grandfather would be proud.

THE END. 

(But keep reading! The next chapter is a preview of Book 2 in The Dreamwielder Chronicles, Souldrifter.)