Epilogue

Ket stood in front of Kyros’ grave, looking at what had been written in the stone. He wondered who had chosen these words. Had it been Makeda? She had known Kyros the best, and for the longest amount of time.

Miringa were leaving now. They were spreading their wings and taking flight, going back to their own mansions and discussing mindless things, things that had nothing to do with Kyros or death. Makeda, overcome by emotions, had left early with Jeri and Yokani. She had been unable to hold herself up, as though she had given up on moving. Even though Ket did not look around, he knew that there were only five people left: Mr. Cambridge, Agatha Cambridge, Evelyn Breckenridge, and two others that he could not recognize. He only heard four voices, actually, which puzzled him.

Ket turned around and looked. There was definitely only four Miringa standing there, talking. They quieted when they saw Ket watching them, giving him small, encouraging smiles.

‘It’s Evelyn,’ Ket realized. ‘She’s giving off two life forces…oh, of course!’ One of the abilities that Ket had inherited from his mother was detecting life forces. He could tell how many people were present in a room, or whether or not they were alive.

It was strange, really, how life could still go on. Even though Kyros’ life was ended, Evelyn was forming a new one. She was unaware of it, of course, but Ket could tell. He smiled back at the group, who nodded and turned to each other. Ket looked back to the grave.

“We must be off,” Agatha announced. “Come along, Jorge…Ket, lovely to see you again; I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Yes,” he called gloomily, reading and rereading the words. He heard the two Miringa spread their wings and take flight.

The words on the grave ran thus:

Kyros Saevyer

July 23rd, Year 1301 – May 8th, Year 1337

Mighty Warrior, Cherished Son, Beloved Father

He is now yours.

‘He is now yours?’ thought Ket. ‘Who are you talking about?’

“Ketakano,” called out Mr. Cambridge. Ket pulled his eyes away from the grave to look at Mr. Cambridge and Evelyn. For some reason, they were using his full name. Perhaps it was because Kyros called him that.

“Ketakano, let’s go,” called Evelyn softly. “We’re almost back home, right on Winterberry Island – wouldn’t it be lovely to reunite with Kyara and Jason?”

Yes, it would be lovely, Ket wholeheartedly agreed with her; however, nothing would ever be lovely again. Kyros was gone for good. He would never see him again.

“I’ll never forgive them,” he announced in a strangled sob. “Never,” he repeated, shaking his head slowly. “Not even if I kill them all.”

OoO

Kyara Larkin looked at Ket, holding Adriano in her lap. She had listened intently to the whole story, which had taken hours to relate. Every single detail, no matter how horrible or embarrassing, Ket had told her, saying as much as he could remember.

“I can’t let you, Ket,” whispered Kyara, shaking her head. “I simply can’t allow you to go after Sorena Kadaveer.”

“Why not?” asked Ket angrily. “She and her, and her cronies killed my father!”

“If they can kill Kyros, a man thrice your age, then don’t you think that they could kill you, too?” cried Kyara. “Ket, honey, please…” She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t give you permission. However,” she interjected as Ket began to protest, “I cannot deny you permission, either, Ket. You will do what you deem appropriate, and I will do what I deem appropriate. I do not want you to become a murderer, Ket. Nor do I want you to become a victim to homicide. We live in different worlds, Ket. Your speech about, about ‘the Change’ really did strike home.” She placed a hand to her chest, indicating her heart. “If anything ever went wrong on Winterberry, I would always go to the police and they would sort it out. I was going to suggest that to you, but now I understand; you are the person that everybody keeps running you. You are, in essence, the police force. I cannot stop you, Ket. I can only tell you that I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

Ket stood up and hugged Kyara, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mother,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

OoO

The next few days passed with ease. Ket took up friendships with the village boys, talking about unimportant things. Sometimes, that was the best way to retain your childhood: keeping in mind how important all of those silly tidbits were to you.

A week later, however, while Ket was eating lunch at home, a knock hit the door. Kyara answered it; low voices drifted into the kitchen. Ket recognized the visitors.

He leapt to his feet and hurried into the entrance room. Makeda Saevyer and Jeri Lackey were standing there. Makeda was carrying a hefty sheaf of parchment.

“So, you were originally Thompson?” Makeda was asking. “That was your maiden name?”

“Yes, ’twas,” replied Kyara.

“Do you know anything about your lineage?” Jeri asked casually. “Your grandfather, for instance. Was he Thompson, as well?”

“I would assume so.” Kyara looked confused about these questions. As she opened her mouth to question the pair, Makeda spotted Ket.

“Ket!” exclaimed she, grinning warmly at her grandson. “Lovely. We came here looking for you.”

“We have some very important information,” explained Jeri. She glanced at Kyara. “Might we, uh, come in? This is not something to be discussed on the threshold.”

“Of course, of course,” muttered Kyara, opening the door wider. “Please, come in, come in.”

“Thank you.”

The two Miringa stepped inside. Ket noticed that they had resumed a more human form; specifically, they had hidden their wings.

“Um, this is Makeda Saevyer, my grandmother,” introduced Ket, “and her, uh, associate, Jeri Lackey. This is my, um, my adoptive mother, Kyara Larkin.” He turned to Makeda. “Now, what is this important information?”

“It’s about the, ah, visions you kept on seeing,” explained Jeri. Makeda did not seem to be able to talk; perhaps it was because these visions concerned her son.

“Oh, yes.”

“Visions?” asked Kyara sharply. “What visions?” She looked at Ket. “Are you a prophet?”

“No, no,” assured Jeri. “Well, not exactly.” She took the parchments from Makeda. “There’s a phenomenon that is kind of rare, but not unheard of. It seems like you have inherited this ability.”

Ket looked from Jeri to Makeda, waiting a response. “Well?” he asked impatiently. “What was it that I saw, if it wasn’t a—a vision?”

“You see the inevitable,” whispered Makeda. “What happened down there, what happened in Sotteraneo – it had to have been played out. Kyros’ death, in that manner…was definite. There was no way to escape it.”

“Hold on.” Ket held up a hand, stemming Makeda’s speech. “You’re telling me that I can see the inevitable? What kind of power is that?” He almost laughed at his ridiculous question, but he hurriedly refrained. “But how can that be? Fate – it’s not real! Is it?”

Makeda shook her head, but it was Jeri who spoke. “While the answer to that question is impossible to know, I think I can safely say ‘no’. I do not think fate exist. It is an old concept that we should discard. However, there are some things that are unavoidable. That is what you can see. It grows and builds and builds, changing and expanding until the moment happens. What you see are things that you will witness; you will not get random flashes from others’ lives. When the—the event occurs, you will no longer see it.”

“How often will I see them?” asked Ket.

“There will only be one at a time; meaning you won’t have two separate events going on at the same time,” explained Jeri. “Your ability is rare and random; the most a person ever saw in a lifetime was half a dozen. You’ll probably see two, three, maybe even four in your lifetime.”

Ket nodded; his throat was dry. He muttered, “Excuse me” and hurried into his room. He sat on the familiar bed – which was in worse condition than the one in Saevyer Mansion, but so much more luxurious – and looked outside the window. Children were playing, adults were working, and families were thriving.

‘Why does all this happen to me?’ thought Ket angrily. ‘Why must I bear this?’

He lay back on his bed and looked at the ceiling. A year had gone by…one full year, full of bitter tears and closely tuned screams. Hecatombs of people, both good and evil, both young and old, both happy and sad, had been murdered in the hostilities between the Miringa and the Manumo. Every single life had been carelessly destroyed.

Had anyone listen to them scream?

---

This is the end of book three. Book four is up next; The Definition. We learn more about Anthro, about his soulless past, and Ket does something unforgiveable. At the end of the novel, however, is the biggest shock of all (although I have hinted at it a few times in the series. When this is revealed, I will explain how I have hinted at it).

Ket is an odd form of prophets. He can see "inevitable" things, things that will happen no matter what. He will see only one other inevitable thing over the course of this series, but it has to do with the first "inevitable" (kind of).

At the end, Ket is realizing how much people care about him, but how everyone turns a blind eye towards those who are no prominent in society. It's a very popular phenomenon (sp?). I forget who, but I remember reading in the newspaper that some famous actor went to the doctor's because of a migrane. It was one of those articles that was plastered on the front page, like "OH NO SUCH AND SUCH HAS A HEADACHE! Read more on page 5" And I was like "Um...so? Was there an article when I was rushed to the hospital at age 4 because my immune system had turned against me and was killing me from the inside? I doubt it." (That, incidentally, did occur.) So, it's kind of like that. Ket recieved fame accidentally, and he's the type of kid who likes attention, but only if it's because he did something extraordinary, not just for being the son of some rich guy. Everybody was having a spazz when Kyros was captured, and Miringa were ordered to find Kyros, or lose their lives trying. Jeri had to make her own way back from being captured (in book 4 and 5, we'll learn more about what happened. I'm really excited to reveal her story; hopefully it'll be a twist that no one expected). Jeri wasn't on the council when she was captured, so people didn't think to save her. Also, Sir Jonat's wife (if I haven't already mentioned her name, it's Emily Jonat. She, unfortunately, was slain; it's no secret. I'm just saying this because I don't want people thinking that she'll come back). No one really bothered trying to rescue Mrs. Jonat.

For some reason, I'm reminded forcibly of a soap opera as I write these books. Everything and everyone is connected.

Odd odd odd.

Till next time,
E.B. Keane-Farrell