Witch of Lurago Chapter 97: Goodbyes

The winnowing begins, yet no death is gratuitous. Each departure serves a purpose in the narrative.

Raise a toast to the ones we lost in this book. Some we mourn. Some we will miss. Some we are glad to see go.

Brynmohr o’Berwyn. King Brynmohr of the Firstborn. Your death was the hardest to write because you had come so far from where you started. You were as real as flesh and blood to me, with all your faults and regrets. In earlier versions of the story, you lived. You were badly scarred, but you lived. After you recovered, you went to Tallu, reconciled with your beloved Jenna, and continued mentoring your cherished children and grandchildren. I so wanted that for you because I was invested in your redemption. But, it just wasn’t in the Patterns. I will miss you most.

Gaven Buchanan. The White Hawk of Storm Hawk legend. Lord of Dundarien. Your brawn could have made you a bully, but your heart and humility made you a gentle giant instead. You weren’t the quickest pup in the litter, but you were a good and true friend. You’re at peace now. She was waiting for you.

John Deighton. Former Beacon Deighton. The Prophet. The Puppeteer. Johanell o’Cree of House Tyne. Firstborn Fervent. The consort. You were not a good elf. Your ambition, arrogance, cruelty and ruthlessness kept you alive far longer than I wanted, but your own vanity ultimately did you in. Good riddance.

Glyneth o’Tegwen. Queen Glyneth of the Firstborn. As vain as your consort, you elicit at least a sliver of pity for the pain you carried after losing both your children and an unrequited love. But only a sliver. Dara you traded for a crown. Mouse you never dared claim because of what doing so might have cost you in social stature. In the end, you gave up and tried to take your people out with you. Of course, you gave up. You never had conviction enough to fight for anything.

Tybetha o’Rhianu. Tybetha of Wind Clan. Nunyaehi of Crystal Springs. Shaman to Malatchee Mico. Lover and partner to Tobias Buchanan. You showed us the depth of strength that comes from serenity. Determined and selfless in following your duty, you earned the respect of those you knew and nurtured. Rest well, healer.

Lucinda Degotoga. Lucinda of Panther Clan. Lady Lucinda of Silveroak Hall. Agent of the Dawnguard. Wife of Nigel Willoughby. You could’ve been a contender. You had so much going for you. Strong female protagonist. Mysterious background. Master assassin. Este in the Dawnguard. And woman enough to win Nigel’s heart. But the more I wrote you, the more I questioned your motivation, and the secrets you were hiding had to play out. It’s too bad. Nigel did love you.

Murdoch Connor. Chief of Clan Connor. The Rhi’Connor. Lord of Connamara. Investor in Southern Hawk Trading Company. You lived the life duty demanded of you, not the life you wanted. But it wasn’t a bad life, even the years of sadness after losing Ahyota. I wish I’d known you when you were the young adventurer, sailing the world with Toby. I bet there are some stories to tell from those years.

Tessa Burke. Captain Burke of The Wicked Thorn. Lady Tessa Connor. The Rhissa Connor. Tessa, the unconventional optimist. You made everyone’s lives a little brighter. I’m glad you had time with Murdoch before your story played out.

Renault Litchfield. General Litchfield. Anne’s Avenger. The Butcher of Bloody Bend. You have no redeeming qualities. Delusional megalomaniac. Coward and traitor. You’re the Surdisi version of Dowan Iverach. It was tempting, really tempting, to draw out your death and make it more painful. But you weren’t worth the word count.

Rene Kerjean. Captain Salazar in Larad’s Royal Navy. Gaurenne spy and agent of the Brotherhood. Lover and partner to Geoffrey Langdon. You’re cool as ice under pressure, but hotblooded when it comes to family or the cause. I liked you, so you got some great last words.

Catharina Dumfries-Griffith. Playwright for the Falkender Theater Company. You were one of my favorite supporting characters. A woman who not only worked outside the home, but gained notoriety for your work. A career woman and primary breadwinner for your household. Smart in choosing a husband who’d be man enough to applaud your success instead of being threatened by it. You wrote to foster change. Political correctness be damned. Yeah, you did mess up by inciting the Puppeteer genocide, but it wasn’t on purpose. The cycle is a bit less vibrant with you gone.

Vyrdun o’Who-Cares. Chief Steward of Twelvestones. Senior creep of the Firstborn Fervent. From the perversity you oversaw at Evenstar Watch to your “training” of Mouse to serve the Cloistered, you were one bad apple. Too weak to qualify as a villain. Slimy. Sneaky. You tried to blow up the whole freaking castle. And now, you’re dead. Good. Stay dead.

And to those who left us in less dramatic fashion: King Walter Connor, Queen Eleanor, their son Andrew, King Gerard of Bresca, the master of Feudo Lurago, and a great many unnamed soldiers from Larad, Este, Rhynn, Innis, the Ten Kingdoms, Bresca, and Philippeon.

Farewell.