The trip was long, but thankfully no more supernatural horrors blocked the way. The upper tunnels felt strangely peaceful after all Ngerxung's been through. The dwarf didn't speak much either. Only at their second camp break did he deign to answer a few questions.
He was Aril, with no lastname, having sworn off service to his clan during the dwarven civil war in 126. Now he led a solitary life in the tunnels as a monster hunter, like so many years ago before all this. Aril's remark about the year confirmed Ngerxung's earlier suspicions: what has been four weeks to her turned out to be more than a decade in Oldlands.
"And what year is it now?" she couldn't quite make her voice sound confident.
"Now? Lemme see... it's hard to keep track underground, but it should be 130. They're probably still fighting each other up there." He snorted.
"..."
Serves them right, Ngerxung thought. She still remembered having been mortal foes with dwarvenkind... but this taciturn dwarf expressed no interest in who she was or whatever she was doing here with the Triton warriors. He must have definitely seen them down there when he saved her, but neither did he show surprise nor ask questions later. Perhaps he really just didn't care about anything anymore, another broken soul just like herself.
A day later they emerged near the familiar inhabited tunnels held by the dwarven nation. As they approached, Aril pointed at the unguarded stairs:
"I will go no further, so here we part. I'm sure you can sneak to the surface to find your own."
"Why'd you help me?" she snapped. "Don't your kind hate us Goblins?"
He snorted again. "Hell if I know who they hate these days. I only kill monsters. That's it."
***
The valley was recovering. Sodel had succeeded in forcing peace upon his rivals and their rivals, though reclaiming parts of Central city leveled by the dimensional storm was so far out of the question. After two detachments sent into the ruins failed to return, Sodel declared the area off-limits and stationed instruments and sensors at the perimeter, to gather data and study the residual phenomena.
Much to his displeasure, though, science had to take a backseat to practical matters for the time being. Surprisingly, Goblins turned out to be the easiest to negotiate terms with after such a convincing display of force. King Azstrog had his troops stand down and agreed to swear fealty to Sodel and pay tribute in exchange for Snebgo'gur's autonomy. The humans were less than pleased, but all the surviving merchant families had to look forward to expanding their trade network into the Dwarven domain. Greed would win out.
To commemorate peace within the Dwarven nation itself, plans for a new Academy of the Arts were revealed, to be built in Ineth Nil. Different cultures such as the Theliiri and Ratlings would all contribute to it in its formative years.
***
The year was 140. Ten years into uneasy peace, the land seemed to be healing. As decades-long winter receded into normal seasons anew, fields were sown with grain, grassy alpine pastures filled with goats and sheep and guarded by fierce beak dogs imported from the west. Antling caravans once again started coming every autumn, bringing exotic goods.
Some unresolved tension, of course, remained, seeing how Goblins still practiced slavery and such. Sodel devised a way to regulate the unsavory practice, with the long-term goal of abolishing it. He also managed to curtail the Giants' belligerence when they demanded a right to launch raids outside the valley. And he delivered on his promises of improving access to food, medicine, jobs, education. Having an ambitious technocrat in charge did not seem like such a bad thing now.
Deep down in Yantar'Eryovl, there was also a bustle of activity. Drawing again upon the knowledge of aeons, Gloomf instructed her people to build. They had new crystal-growing chambers, new devices capable of manipulating energy and matter in ways only Maar himself could devise.
And a long-awaited Chamber of Divination let her have faultless intelligence on events aboveground or elsewhere in the tunnels. She expected to be able to train psychics out of new generations of Tritons, as she had seeded them with the potential for these abilities before leaving for the depths in 112. This would grant the Tritons immense advantage in securing their future should she have to disappear again.
She also decided, finally, that it was time for her people to come out of isolation and begin trade and cultural exchange with the younger prouder species. After the mess they had made, Gloomf would not take any chances at letting them rule Oldlands without her tempering influence. All things must come in their time. And what best way but to plant psychic observers in plain sight, under the guise of diplomacy? And of course, Yantar'Eryovl already had contact with the Antling hive (but psychic powers do not work on Antlings).
She also learned that Ngerxung was alive. The former witch looked like she had her fill of solitude and rejoined the Goblin society; even without her power she was no doubt able to rise to prominence in time.
The Age of Strife was finally coming to an end.
The Age of Dwarves, a time when dwarves ruled the world, had begun.
***
This is not an epilogue. In the recent weeks, I've given some serious thought on how to pick the story back up. A change of perspective and pace, perhaps? Sure, there is plenty of room for another cataclysm or two, even if the WW1 expy did not lead straight into a doomsday scenario. But we have established that the primordial powers have waned greatly, which is the in-universe explanation of why there's no new cataclysms. Oldlands should now enjoy some long-awaited stability while we shift our attention away from the valley and perhaps towards some adventurer stories...