Whisper of Blade | ✓ (Crimson #1)

Chapter 34: Even if I Burned

Kodak set Nariko's frail body in the center of the bare floor. Everything about her appeared delicate and transparent, like petals pressed and dried. Yet she smiled in her unending sleep, at peace and free from pain at last.

"Wake up, Mama. Wake up," Kaji begged. He hadn't let go of Nariko's hand even while Kodak carried her.

Minerva placed her hand on his shoulder. "Kaji ... it's time to tell her goodbye. She's not—she won't be waking up."

She and Kodak waited, hearts wrenching as Kaji pleaded and bargained with his dead mother. He would find a job, a real one, to feed them both. He'd buy her a house with a garden where she could breathe fresh air and play with the kats. He wouldn't forget to clean his feet before coming inside ever again, if only she'd wake up.

At last, there was a lull. Kaji quieted, holding his mother's hand to his cheek and gazing at her still form.

"Will you do the honors?" Minerva asked. She knew Kaji needed time to mourn, but dusk was fast approaching.

When he nodded, she showed him how to cross Nariko's collar opposite that of daily wear and fold her hands over her stomach.

He kissed her forehead, his tears dropping on her face. "Goodbye, Mama," he sobbed. "I love you, owari no nai sekai."

Minerva bowed her head in respect. The phrase had roots in the ancient languages. Translated literally, it meant "endless world". In this instance, it was interpreted closer to "world without end". Kaji had told his mother, "I love you, world without end". In other words—

Forever.

Kaji rubbed his fingers together. Sparks flew, but he couldn't get it to catch. "Will you?" he appealed to Minerva.

"Of course," she answered. "I'll start with your flame and take care of the rest."

After a few more tries, Kaji produced a small burning flame and Minerva transferred it to her fingertip. He scooted across the floor to Kodak and pulled him back to the wall before sitting in the prince's lap.

Minerva took several deep breaths, letting the flame grow and shrink with the rise and fall of her chest. Among the nobility, it was custom to hire a professional to perform the cremation. In the flames, they would craft fiery images to display the deceased's life and symbols of their virtues.

The crane for purity. The dragon for courage. The phoenix for power.

Minerva could not give Nariko that—she had neither the knowledge nor skill. But such as she had and could do, she would.

Cupping the flame in her hands, she focused her energy. She kept it contained until it formed into the shape of a spiraling orb. Then she directed it to hover above Nariko's body and spread like a blanket of golden light over her sleeping form.

Her clothing caught alight first. Minerva poured out more until Nariko's skin glowed and white tinged the flames. The woman had been a wielder, a powerful one at that. Her body would not burn until the fire surpassed the strength of her own while she'd been alive. In using all of her wielding potential, Minerva honored the legacy of the dead.

Minerva strained, reaching into the pool of the kirukkan stone hanging from her neck. Her flames also strained, pressing against the bounds she'd imposed. Hungry to devour more—the wood of the floor, the walls. It reached upward toward the ceiling as the only outlet she allowed it.

The two of them engaged in a game of push-and-pull, Minerva teasing out every smidge of power that could be mustered, her fire testing any weakness in her will that could be exploited.

Her efforts culminated in a blinding pillar of pure white fire before she cut the flow.

The glare faded from her eyes. Perspiration soaked down her neck and back as she gasped for air.