Epilogue

Ash stood on the deck of his new ship, watching passively as the rolling waves broke against the hull and washed up on the shores of The Direwood. The sky settled in a dusty orange, rapidly heralding the night. Unfortunately, a few thousand trees and a ceiling of mist stood between Ash and what he assumed was a beautiful sunset. He’d be here to enjoy the sunrise over the Firebloom Ocean, of course, though without the fire lilies rising to greet it, it’d never match the beauty of an Eriskay sunrise.

Someday he’d return home and see it again, standing on the same cliff where all this started. Well, that wasn’t home anymore, he supposed. There was no ‘home’ anymore. Still, once he’d bought his father new tools to replace the ones he’d stolen and returned his sisters’ share of the money he could visit. They’d be steel tools too, better ones than he took. Words were cheap, after all, and a simple ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t going to cut it after what he’d pulled.

Behind Ash, the drivers of aibax-drawn wagons made their last calls. There was enough time to get a last run to the outpost before mist overtook everything, and each driver needed to decide if they wanted to spend that time heading back to the outpost, or find a spot to bunker down in port.

A clatter of noise rose above the rest, making Ash turn to check. Issac smiled back as he made his way up the gangplank with an overly large black bag over one shoulder and four hunters at his back. “Evening Ashling. Is Khukri...”

Ash smiled, shaking his head. “She’s spending the last night in District 4. Sven’s going to swing by first thing in the morning to get her, along with the last of our stuff.”

With the flick of his wrist, Issac sent the girls back and sauntered up next to Ash alone. “Did you get a look at her collar, at least?”

A smile crept onto Ash’s face as he turned back to the ocean. “Yeah. I helped bring the last load earlier today. It’s perfect, thanks...what’s with the bag?”

Issac let out a soft, amused snort as he set it down. “Since I’ve started coming here, I’ve had a tradition of sharing a farewell drink with a man whose company I’ve enjoyed, and I’ll not have that harpy ruin it.” He quickly slid the navy uniform over his head and tossed it onto the deck.

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Is being shirtless part of it? Should I...”

“I mean...I wouldn’t complain,” Issac mumbled, pulling his black and silver trenchcoat from the bag. “But no. I had to move mountains to convince the bean counters at Mother’s company that a custom designer wardrobe from the Dusk Empire counted as an essential purchase. I’ll be damned if the last you see of me is in that company issued tablecloth disguised as clothing.” After slipping the overcoat on he looked down at himself, the familiar satisfied smile creeping onto his lips. “You don’t get the facial dye I’m afraid, that stuff takes hours to apply, but I’ll be wearing the earrings. Here, you’re pouring.” After Issac set a bottle of brown liquid and two tiny glasses on the bulwark he stepped back and started fiddling with his ears.

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“What’s this?” Ash asked, turning the bottle over and swishing the liquid around.

“Whisky,” Issac said, struggling with the silver rings. “You can keep the bottle when I go, as a parting gift. I’d have given you wine, but you wouldn’t know a cabernet sauvignon from a chardonnay. Besides, whisky suits that whole...individualist adventurer vibe you’re going for.”

Ash twisted the cap off and poured two tiny glasses. “Did you just insult me?”

“I think the fact you don’t know proves I made an accurate assessment.” Issac grinned, clipping the last earring in place, then shook his head to make sure they stayed in. “Perfect...now, are you certain you want to go running off with a wolf for company? If you dock at North Origin, I can still get someone sympathetic to your family to protect you.”

“No, but thank you. Really.” Ash grabbed the tiny glass, clicked it against Issac’s and the two proceeded to drink.

Fire raced down Ash’s throat and up his nose, making him cough and stumble back with watery eyes. “Oh! Oh fuck! What is that! That’s...that’s strong!”

“First off, yeah, it’s liquor,” Issac said, rolling his eyes as he set the glass down. “Second, we can’t just knock shot glasses together, we need to toast to something. It’s not a celebration otherwise.”

Ash poured another round as they leaned on the ship, feeling the breeze of the ocean and smell of the salt while he tried to think of anything he and Issac had enough in common to toast. After a pause, they downed their shots and slammed the glasses back down. Maybe a few more drinks would help him think of something.

“So...” Issac said, the wry smile returning to his lips. “Seems you did what I never could and stood up to the old bag instead of running. Not the smartest move, but I’ll give you points for style. You made an enemy and all it got you was a little transport ship and a couple hundred thousand florins. Was it worth it?”

The whisky flooded the tiny glasses once more as Ash matched Issac’s smile. “C’mon man. It was never about the money.”

“It wasn’t, was it?” Issac mused. “Still, I have to wonder what possessed you to fight when seeking asylum was clearly the better option...and still is.” A long poignant silence filled the space before Issac leaned forward with a piercing gaze. “You fucked the wolf didn’t you?”

Ash coughed, bringing the shot glass up to cover his nose. “I...err...don’t see how that’s relevant.”

A bark of laughter escaped Issac. “I knew it! I tried to warn you, but there’s no stopping it now. Ah, well, if you’re bound for hell; might as well enjoy the ride.” He lifted his glass with a smirk. “To the peyote pit!”

Ash hesitated, then clicked his glass against Issac’s once more with a grin. “To the peyote pit!"