Arnhand, Castauriga, and Navaya lost their kings. The Grail Empire lost its empress. The Church lost its Patriarch, though he lives on as a fugitive. The Night lost Kharoulke the Windwalker, an emperor amongst the most primal and terrible gods. The Night goes on, in dread. The world goes on, in dread. The ice builds and slides southward.
New kings come. A new empress will rule. Another rump polishes the Patriarchal Throne.
But there is something new under the sun. The oldest and fiercest of the Instrumentalities has been destroyed--by a mortal. There is no new Windwalker, nor will there ever be.
The world, battered by savage change, limps toward its destiny. And the ice is coming.