A year. It has been exactly a year since the first chapter of Further came into the world.
A year since I stepped beyond those first uncertain vignettes and committed to something different. Something larger. A series. And though Further seems, in hindsight, such a small and tentative thing – oh, how I hesitated, how I dreaded binding myself to something like that – here we are, a year later. Fifty-two chapters and somewhere around 450,000 words later. And all of it feels at once so distant and so close.
Henry is a lord now. Hans is a father. Jitka is family. We have walked so far with all of them – and not only with them, but with Godwin and Dry Devil, with Pavel, Zizka, Katherine, Lukas (yes, that still hurts), Thomas, and the rest.
It has been a remarkable journey. One along which I have, from a great distance, met many wonderful readers. Some have said their farewells as the story moved on; others joined somewhere along the way. But every single one of them – every single one of you – I have held in great regard and gratitude. The story that grew across this year was for Henry and Hans. For me. For you.
And near the very beginning of that journey, there was one extraordinary encounter – one that has marked not only the story itself, but me as a person. I would never have imagined that this tale would lead me to someone so kindred – in how they see and feel this story, in their humour, in their love of the natural world. In who they are. And someone so remarkably gifted, someone who creates genuine art, who carries real and serious talent – and yet remains so warm, so unassuming. Someone I humbly allow myself to call a friend.
And it was the very @playpausephoto who asked me, some time ago, whether the saga had a name.
Which gave me pause. Because – well. When I began writing Further a year ago, it would never have occurred to me that any of this would grow to such proportions. And yet, in that moment, I understood that the saga does have a name. It always had one.
Because if this entire story is about one thing above all others, it is about finding one's own kingdom. That state of simple human happiness. Hans's. Henry's. Jitka's. Perhaps others'. Perhaps even ours.
Thank you for everything, @playpausephoto – for the dozens of beautiful and devastating photographs that have accompanied this story, for helping give shape to the words, for being a steady presence in moments of doubt.
Thank you for who you are.
And thank you to everyone who has walked this long road alongside Henry, Hans, me, and the rest.
As for whether this is the end of the saga – the end of Our Kingdom Come – the short answer is: no, it is not. And I do not mean merely the epilogue to Hearth and Kin, which will arrive soon (as you know, every series has had its epilogue).
What comes after that – that remains to be seen. It will depend on energy, on time, and on whether there is still an appetite among you, the readers, for another journey through this saga.
But something will come. One way or another.
The saga has an ending. A final chapter that has lived in my head for this entire year. One I have spent this entire year trying not to think about too much.
Because everything must have a beginning. And an end.
