Each year the Kingdom of Khearia throws a festival in remembrance of one of their most beloved kings who had tragically perished along with his wife and second son. His first son, Prince Fabian, was the only one to survive. Witnesses claimed his cro...
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There wasn't much time for a funeral, only a single evening.
ㅤIn the west, from the windy coasts of which Riley hailed, they returned their dead to the ocean rather than the stars. Along the sand they'd rest their loved ones, carefully tucking them under their best firewood and, by the falling of night, they would spark it alight. Seeing the blaze, Moira would safely guide the dead to the afterlife. By morning, the tide would rise, rolling up the beach, and dragging the ashes to their ancestors out in the blue.
ㅤSuch a romantic send-off was only a dream this far in the midlands. Mererid couldn't even wish her cousin farewell properly. Her silhouette was eerily strong against the burning rage of Riley's fire. It roared at her.
ㅤThree flames, three dead. Riley and two of the Drykas men.
ㅤThe wooden stack of Riley's squealed and shifted, crunching and collapsing, the air engulfed in by flame in a woosh, whipping up a tantrum.
ㅤDuke Straton tried to pry Mererid back; she was too close. She smacked his hand away. She didn't want his concern, not after what he'd done to her.
ㅤSniffles came from beside James. Fletcher wiped at his eyes, tears poured down. Thomas was in a trance, staring into the blaze.
ㅤ"He was going to die one day anyway," James said, softly. "That's life. It's inevitable. He... just got there before us. It's not a sad thing."
ㅤThomas' voice stabbed in. "Who are you trying to convince?"
ㅤIt was clear. James' clumsy condolences weren't welcome.
ㅤ"Thank you for trying, James," Fletcher said, tripping the words out on stuttered breath. "But, please, no more."
ㅤA familiar song rang out. A woman's voice, Mererid, a muffled tune swaying in the low rumble of fire. It was soft, and slow, like a hug, flowing in the old language of the west. Some of the men knew it, too, and gradually they laid their souls into the air, blanketing over the roars until it smothered under their voices.
ㅤAlex stood at attention, his fist on his heart, as did the others, listening to a language they didn't understand. Without realising, the words spilled over James' lips. It ached in his heart. If the others were surprised, he didn't see. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the violent light.
ㅤJames, too, would one day die, and his memories would die along with him. They'd keep going without Riley, his existence slowly slipping from their minds. A day without his memory would turn into a week, then a month, eventually, his existence would be betrayed and they'd forget him almost entirely. This was the only apology James could give.
ㅤAt least, now, Riley wasn't tired anymore. He was with the people he belonged to.
ㅤ"Ffarwell," James sang. Farewell.
ㅤ"I'm surprised you respect the dead," Alex hollowly commented.
ㅤIt wasn't intended as a slight, even if it came across as one. Alex's gaze was empty and lifeless, the grief trampled down.
