I've posted the first nine chapters of Throne of Time, which form a coherent mini-arc if you were waiting for that. I'll do a separate post about that, however, and want to focus this one on TWC.
The epilogue is below, finishing off Deadgold. I'm pleased to report that I'm in a strong position with the next book, the twelfth in the series that concludes this long-running plotline. However, as usual, it won't be posted right away, instead waiting until it's 100% ready. In between there will be a period where I post updated character soulhomes, the Krikree short story, and other bonus content. This time I will also have some book releases, an AMA on r/fantasy, and updates to the overall schedule, so please look forward to those!
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Epilogue
Sunlight beat down over the rubble as the final damage from the battle collapsed into the wreckage. Portions of the city lay untouched alongside smoking ruins, and a swath had been cut through the center where the melted stones still glowed as hot as the sun.
There had been another army within the city, but now it streamed out, fleeing after evacuating civilians. The small group of victors did not pursue, merely stood in ragged groups around the center. Those civilians who remained wept or simply stared silently toward their undeniable defeat.
At the end of the glowing line, the champion of the Gold Wastes, Giatrice herself, lay still with a golden sword through her chest.
Even though she was unquestionably dead, her soulhome gone, the Tymetronese army still remained at a distance from the woman who had terrorized them for so long. The only ones who dared to stand over the corpse stood apart: Plutalgion leaned against a wall, his armor bleeding gold in multiple places, while Vistgil hovered not far away, surrounded by shadowy figures.
"I didn't expect you to keep your word," Plutalgion said eventually, "given what happened on Norron."
"An unfortunate accident," Vistgil responded, "but I pledged you my aid. Better to have another top soulcrafter gone, for all of us."
"Then I will do as we agreed, in time."
"Will you be destroying the Gold Wastes, then?"
The ancient helm rose and Plutalgion seemed to be considering the devastated city for the first time. "They are irrelevant now, and will scatter into the wind. I am more concerned about the remaining organizations and whether they will retaliate. Is this the final war we have awaited?"
"No, I think merely its harbinger." Vistgil stared toward the empty sky. "They will watch, certainly, but all sides will neutralize one another. I have other schemes that will keep everyone occupied, and the time when everyone realizes what is at stake remains in the future."
"You could continue helping directly. My gold has been devalued, but you could strengthen those who use demonic materials."
"Please. Working with their kind has always been a dead end."
Plutalgion let out a single dry laugh. "As it ever was, Vistgil. No matter how many years pass, no matter how much the rest of us change, your gaze never shifts."
"There is no purpose in anything else," Vistgil answered flatly.
"I disagree, but you have fulfilled your end of the bargain twice over, so I will fulfill mine." Plutalgion straightened and then reached down, pulling his blade from the corpse. "Norron proved more troublesome than expected, but it has revealed no great threats, and your pawn is gone now. You purchased my favor at such great cost to yourself, why use it on this?"
"There is a... loose end, one that frays the entire rope. You wouldn't care about the details."
"You're right, I don't." Plutalgion pulled the sword back to his shoulder. "Who do we kill?"
"Burn everything," Vistgil answered. "Wipe the continent clean."