Playing with Fire

Playing with Fire- Chapter Nineteen

After this chapter and the epilogue I'm done! This makes me both happy and sad. Luckily, I have the outline of an idea for my next story, but no solid plotline/conflict yet. I'm excited to start it but I won't work on it until I have completely completed Playing with Fire.

Well, here you go.

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Of course there was a funeral.

Everybody, and I do mean everybody, showed up. Townspeople, nobles, foreigners, all of them joined together in honour of the lost Dragon Masters. The trees that surrounded the enormous Dragon Master cemetary were strung with flags and ribbons of different colours, representing the fallen.

The ground was like a sea of black. As one of the remaining Dragon Masters, I sat in a tower high up from the ground, able to observe the mourning and sadness going on around me. I myself felt empty and cold. The last funeral I'd attended had been much more festive; a celebration of a life well lived rather than a greivance of young lives cut short.

I sighed, staring out over the mourners as they one by one payed their respects to the dead. Flowers were placed on mounds of freshly tossed dirt, trinkets and jewelery set upon large and ornate tombstones.

With each passing second the sadness in the air became more and more palpable. Families of the dead clustered together and sobbed, strangers sat back and remained silent in the face of such anguish.

Lee, dressed in the same black mourning robe as the rest of us, shifted uncomfortably in his seat to my left. Tears filled his black eyes and he blinked them away, his gaze locked onto Lucas' grave. The two of them had always been... close.

I pulled my knees up, huddled against the back of my seat and staring out at the crowd. There was one grave free of people. They kept away from it, as though going near it would bring disease. All that sat on top of the intentionally scratched-up tombstone was a bouquet of burning roses, the sickly sweet smell wafting up to hover over the scene.

"Hey," a deep voice sounded from my right, filled with sadness and worry. "You okay?" I nodded slowly, reaching out behind me to grasp onto a strong hand, entwining my fingers with his. Hayden settled himself in next to me, squeezing my hand and staring blankly out at the mass of people.

"There're so many of them," I murmured, silently brushing away a strand of black hair that fell into my face from the breeze. "So many graves, and so many who have come to mourn. They didn't even know them, but they're here. Crying."

These people have good souls, little one. It does not matter that they had never been in contact with the dead. They mourn over lost children, lives that could have developed into much more if only given the chance. They mourn for the loss of hope, the loss of innocence, the loss of what those children represented.

A small smile spread across my lips. Yín sè was there, she would always be there. And Hayden. Oh, how lucky we were. Somehow, despite his injuries and the lack of proper medical supplies, I'd managed to help him heal. His torso was scarred, and his movements still jerky, but he was alive. That was what mattered.

"Those poor Xuétú," Hayden sighed. Icy blue eyes met mine, sad and glistening with a thin layer of tears. "Never even had the chance to meet their Dragon. Never even got to become Zhǔ." He shook his head.

Oh, how I feel for those Dragons. They are here, mourning along with the rest of us. You can hear them if you concentrate hard enough.

Sure enough, when I focused my ears on the Other World, I heard it. Deep, depressing songs, mournful and beautifully haunting. Resonating through my mind, bringing tears to my eyes. Dragon's songs could portray so much emotion.