Shortly after the company was rescued by the Lambent Zenith, Captain Inda received a message from Sigil requesting the company’s urgent return. A portal conveniently appeared amidships, and the exhausted company stepped through into the enthusiastic embrace of Tasha and Alustriel. Marko appeared to particularly enjoy this unexpected warmth, drawing a laugh of pleasure from Tasha.

The absence of Three (nee Six) was noted, but Marko’s vague explanation of a mysterious lady was only lightly questioned by the Wizards Two, who accepted the story gladly (for now). Ikasa clearly missed his master, but in Tasha he had made a long-lasting friend.

The duo gushed over the new arrivals, asking for every detail and marvelling at every triumph. There was no little relief in their words and faces, as the tension of these last months was finally released.

“You will not be forgotten,” Alustriel smiled warmly, and her words proved true.

Mordenkeinan, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found.

The two Wizards of Sigil stayed in contact as the company rediscovered their lives. The victory has left each with a near incalculable horde of gold and magic, and no little fame. All were was spoken of in the highest of circles as the multiverse returned to a stable, if predictably haphazard, state.

A thorough reckoning of the Wish-bringers was eventually shaped, filed for eternity in the Libraries of Castlekeep and Sigil. The account was agreed by the company one and all, though scholars argue there were strange inconsistencies and curious omissions pointing to a hidden untold story as yet untold.

All agreed that Mister Marko’s leadership was key to the success, for who but a hero of Stormwatch could marshal such disparate characters into such singular focus (all whilst maintaining his reputation as a ladies man and champion of the smaller folk). Others pointed to Idris Tae’loc for his remarkable mastery of magic and power, marvelling at his ability to inevitably intuit the means to victory—and his legendary use of gravity itself to defeat the champion of Tiamat.

Uthar Grak was spoken of in awe and respect in equal measure, his fearsome aspect and front-line courage cementing his place as a favourite in children’s re-enactments of the multiverse-spanning adventures. The marksmanship and battlefield nous of Sifer Tark inspired a generation of sharp, tactical warriors, though it was noted that many of that cadre had a curious tendency to stand well back over mucking in. As luck would have it this would turn out to be a perfect match for recruits drawn to Uthar’s more forward-footed approach.

In less martial circles, the young and now-fabled farmer Eli Hedgeberry became the pin-up favourite of women (and no few men) of every stripe. His humble nature, truth-seeking, fierce loyalty to his friends, and deep dedication to his mother drawing swoons (and more) in the hearts of lovers the multiverse over.

Only Three caused any contention in the scholarly review. It was indisputable that without him the victory would not have been achieved, the strength of his faith and dedication to his cause saving the company time and again. All admired the battle the cleric of Kelemvor had faced to overcome the unspoken shattering of his body and mind, emerging stronger and more determined than ever to wield his faith. And yet there was something missing, something that was left unexplained no matter how hard those bearing witness worked to eek out the truth.

As the company settled into some semblance of a regular life, Alustriel and Tasha maintained sporadic contact. Tasha was delighted to inform the company that the infamous lich Acererak had commenced a new Tomb, frustrated that a troupe of adventurers had overcome two of his works in rapid succession. “I do believe there was grudging admiration in his strangled words,” Tasha laughed.

Somewhat less happily, she also reported that Windfall, once she had recovered from the shock, quickly stepped into Arkhan’s vacant shoes and now led Tiamat’s cult in Hell. “Balance must be maintained,” Tasha shrugged.

Alustriel made a special visit to Marko (she had always been drawn to the charming rogue) to inform him of the most peculiar establishment of a Duergar Wee Folk outpost in Chult that had gained some notoriety for overthrowing a particularly cruel regime and establishing their own more orderly ‘establishment’.

Alustriel also reported that it was she and Tasha’s firm belief that Vecna (his name now freely spoken by them, if not the company) is indeed imprisoned in an unbreachable void, much as Miksa was a millennia earlier. “A pity about the Rod being lost again so soon after it was finally complete,” she smiled wryly, “Not that I would have it any other way.”

“I would have enjoyed studying it,” Tahsa agreed, “But not half as much as I am enjoying the knowledge that Vecna is gone.”

Alustriel’s parting words, however, warned that Vecna made a habit of appearing when least expected.

But that is a tale for another time.

Years passed before a final missive was received.

Mordenkeinan was back. And he was not happy.

No-one was quite sure why, but he was oft overheard muttering about a brace of over-muscled brutes with chips on their shoulders, a sharp-eared coin-flipping alien, a simple half-orc who must have been hiding something, and an extremely short meddling do-good thief.

“You have no idea how impossibly difficult it is to track every last mote of dust!” he cried.

Three, notably, went unmentioned in the Archmage’s ruminations.

Alustriel and Tasha took great delight in mentioning the company at every opportunity, inevitably leading to a predictable outburst from Mordenkeinan—and peals of laughter from his two favourite antagonists.

Each of the company wove their personal stories of the Eve of Ruin, celebrating the good and concealing the bad, enthralling their audience (large, small, or to themselves alone) with the wonders seen and worlds travelled.

The tellings all converged on that final moment, and ofttimes a tremor of doubt or note of hesitation entered the words spoken and thoughts pondered. What happened in that crystal chamber was hard to speak of, and harder still to understand.

Invariably a question would be asked, or a quip bringing laughter, or, best of all, the embrace of a loved one, and the light would return.

For, after all, what could be better than this.