The shadow unfurls from their joined hands like a slow release of breath. A woman, made of shadow and moonlight, with soft, wavering edges. She stands above the water as if it’s solid ground, her form reflected faintly in the current below.
The man exhales. There are tears on his face.
He steps forward and places his basket gently into the river. It floats, drifting toward the woman crafted of shadow.
“Things that represent the person passing on,” Eres whispers. “The basket is payment for Erevan, to pay for safe passage through the dark.”
“For Erevan,” the man murmurs. “Guide her safely.”
The shadow turns and begins to walk downriver, steps rippling the surface without disturbing it. The basket follows, carried by the current. And When the shadow fades into darkness, the river goes still again.
The man steps back. Another person comes forward.
A young woman this time, hands shaking slightly. “My sister,” she says. “Carmen. She was afraid of the dark, but she loved it too. She liked to make up stories in her head and share them around the campfire on patrol.”
One by one, they come.
Darian doesn’t judge, or comment. He only guides, helping those who need it and creating space for those that don’t.
“And he thinks he’s not needed?” My heart feels as though it might shatter. “We have nothing like this.”
What a loss for those in Solvandyr, to never see this. When I pass on, this is what I want. My name called at the river, and Darian sending me on. “Where do you believe they go? The spirits?”
Eres is smiling. “It’s not for us to say. But we see them on their way, and that’s enough,”
Eventually, the line thins, and the river grows quiet. “For those unnamed,” Darian says softly, his voice carrying across the water. “For those without witnesses.”
No one steps forward this time. Darian closes his eyes once more, and this time the shadow that rises isn’t one, single shape, but many. Faint silhouettes that linger only a moment before dissolving into the night. I wonder if Beckett is among them, since Kaelen had changed the subject when I mentioned it.
I suspect he is.
The final basket is placed into the river by Eldritch. Simple, filled with bread and herbs and a small vial of oil.
“For Erevan,” Darian says. “Guide them safely.”
When the basket has long since vanished from sight, the moonlight moving on, Darian wades back toward the shore. The water releases him reluctantly, rippling around his legs as if loath to let go. His movements are slower now, fatigue etched into the lines of his face. Beside me, Kaelen twitches, but he doesn’t move.
Eventually, people begin to drift away in twos and threes, quiet murmurs resuming only once they’re well beyond the riverbank.
“This is how you remember,” I say softly when he reaches me. “It’s beautiful, Darian.”
Darian looks at me. “Nobody passes on alone.”
I nod. My throat is tight. We stand together at the edge of the river, the four of us beneath a full moon as we watch the last ripples fade away from the water. “What now?”
Eres grins. It feels… mischievous. “We celebrate.”
Lyra
There’s a small, almost unbearable warmth in my chest as I watch Kaelen dip his head. He listens to something the soldier says, hands flying, and laughs.
It changes his whole face.
His eyes crease at the corners in a different way to his anger, an indent appearing where the edge of his smile meets his cheeks. I feel myself flush, even as a lump fills my throat. He continues moving through the crowd, and I find myself unable to take my eyes away.
He stops for everyone. Every single person, he pauses for and speaks to with no hint of impatience on his face as he listens to what they have to say before he moves on. At first, I wonder what he says to them, to leave them smiling when the air is filled with such grief.
And then I understand, with a single, painful stab directly into my heart.
