Epilogue

The streets of Whitechapel are covered in snow tonight, a frosty and extraordinary miracle. Fat flakes float lazily down from the sky, dusting the streets with a fine coating. Your breath puffs in front of your face and an unseasonal chill seeps through what layers you’ve managed to put together on this remarkable June day.

But it is more than just the snow. The walls of nearby buildings are covered in garlands, tinsel, and hand-crafted paper snowflakes. The smells of mulled wine and cider, hot chocolate, roast pork and beef, and hot puddings reach you before you see them being handed out to all by staff members of the Mariposa Estate. Dawn Joyce herself, flanked closely by Nora Mather, is also assisting in the organization of the event, handing out hot food, sweet treats, and blankets.

Lovers and friends alike hold hands as they skate across an ice rink. Martin Keene is wrapped in a blanket with Katelyn Doyle, sipping on hot cocoa as they look shyly at one another. Johan de Wit and Annabelle Mariposa fly merrily around the streets on a sleigh, outpacing all of the others attempting to do the same. Even Anne Grath seems to be having a good time- laughing as she throws snowballs at Luella Wright, Rebecca Browning, Amy Lewin, and eventually August Benson.

The joyous laughter, muffled only slightly by the dampening power of the snow, is interrupted once by the brief trumpeting of… an elephant? It would not be the strangest part of the day, but still you are left to wonder if that is what you even heard at all.

Before the announcement, Otto arrives with Kallos. The two are dragging a stunningly ugly statue of Kallos, along with a coffin with what looks to be Emmett’s body inside. They speak about the competition having particularly high stakes for them, and you get the feeling that they were attempting to pull some kind of prank, which clearly did not go as planned. Soon afterwards, Emmett steps out of the coffin, laughing, and they enjoy the festivity with the rest of you.

Amidst the merriment, Michael Sinclair puts on a fireworks display- amazingly bright and vibrant, despite the clouds that so often plague the London skies.

It is a celebration. But it is also a goodbye. One last time to spend with the friends who will go on to another world. One last opportunity for everyone to be together.

All too soon, it is time for the Gods’ announcement. They gather you in an area away from the mortals, who continue laughing and playing in the snow. All the Gods are assembled… nearly. Twelve of them are exactly who you’d expect, who you’ve come to know in some way or other over the last 8 weeks- Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Demeter, Hera, Apollo, Artemis, and Hermes. You realize who is missing the same time your eyes fall on Dalán-Dé. They stand in Dionysus’ place, a wild grin on their face as they poke their tongue out at all of you. Of Dionysus himself, there is no sign. Tiresias stands among the thirteen as well, offering a smile to all as they begin speaking, voice ringing out, clear and resonant.

“Before we begin, I’d like to give a moment of silence for those who were a part of the competition, but could not be here with us today. James Voyage. Chandra Aurelian. Claude Atterton. May they rest peacefully in Hades’ domain.”

They pause for a moment, head down respectfully. The snow makes the silence soft, gentle, sad, as you remember your fallen friends.

Tiresias continues, voice quiet and sombre at first, before regaining its usual vitality. “It has been a pleasure to get to know each and every one of you over these past eight weeks. Your questions and visits to my library brought me kindness and joy and I deeply appreciate the relationships we have built together. My only regret is that most of you will not remember. But I will never forget you. I will carry you in my heart always. Your stories will live on through me.

“The moment has arrived, however, for some of you to leave us. To shepherd a new world into greatness. When I call your name, please step forward:

“Elena August Benson. Michael Sinclair. Adalisa Davies. Kallos Kagathos. Alexander of Orange. Ezra Godwin.”

Tiresias offers all six called a firm handshake or a hug. “Congratulations and best of luck to our new Gods!”

They raise their glass in toast. As the rest of you follow, there is a shimmering in the very air itself. A blur. One moment your friends are standing before Tiresias, and the next? They have gone.

“Best of luck to the rest of you as well. Enjoy the rest of your lives. You have earned them.”

As the first lights of dawn appear on the horizon, Dawn Joyce begins to glow. She embraces Nora Mather, pulling the other woman’s head to her shoulder. Dawn shines, calling on her Father’s domain - the sun - in all its glory. Apollo beams at his daughter as the light answers her call. It is bright, blazing, and brilliant, melting the snow, the winter wonderland of Whitechapel.

You blink your eyes in the sunlight, your memories melting like the snow. The snow that does not belong in Whitechapel in June. The divine magic that does not belong in London at all. When you open your eyes again, the snow has melted. The smog has been cleared away. The melted snow has washed away the dirt in the streets, life and light brought to even the darkest shadows of the neighbourhood. And to you.

Though your powers are gone, and your memories of them, the sun brings warmth, comfort, and cheer to all who remain. It is a brand new day, and it is up to you what you will make of it.