Behind the scenes - in the cracks between planes, and the gaps behind time - the Ring of Brass lives on.
The Sightwarden of Avalir lives a long life, as does his family. A person is made up of their memories, and the Archmage Por'co’s memories rest in young and responsible hands. Draconic souls never truly die, and the laughing ghost of the Guildmaster is more than happy to wreak merry chaos across the many planes. If one were to look deep into the glowing blue of the ley lines, they might catch a glimpse of the Herald and the Architect Arcane, who waltz hand in hand along the flicker and spark of the magical veins.
The world ends, and then restarts again. The souls of those who saved it rest easy.
For the most part.
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One by one, the Ring of Brass finds their way back home.
(Zerxus, as always, is the last to arrive.)
