His focus seemed distant, haunted, as though he were somewhere else—perhaps reliving the memories of those we had come to mourn.
Sean had briefed me on the ritual beforehand. There wouldn’t be any words, no speeches, no songs—nothing like the human funerals I had grown up knowing. Instead, it was a silent acknowledgment, a gathering of souls to mourn together, bound by the collective grief we shared. Everyone would grieve in theirown manner, but we would do it together, as one. That was the rule.
Caden had already decided who would take responsibility for laying the ashes to rest. Saoirse had requested to lay Kate to rest, and Caden, with a heavy nod of approval, had agreed. Emile would scatter Enya’s ashes, honoring her in his own way. And Sean, ever the steady presence, had taken it upon himself to see Christopher laid to rest. There were no arguments, no questions—everyone simply accepted their part in the ritual.
As the ceremony progressed, each of them stepped forward, carrying those we had lost. One by one, they released them into the air, the breeze catching the ashes and lifting them into the sky.
It was a serene, understated farewell, where our loved ones became one with the earth and sky. There were no grand gestures, no overt displays of emotion, but the silence spoke louder than any words ever could.
Once it was done, we each translated a bottle of Scotch into our hands. It was tradition—a simple, yet deeply meaningful gesture. The bottles appeared in our grasp as if summoned by the sheer force of our collective hurt.
We raised them in quiet tribute, honoring those who had passed. There were no toasts, no words of farewell—only the muffled clinking of glass and the sound of liquid pouring down throats. It was an honest, solemn moment. No one needed to say what we were all thinking.
Saoirse squeezed my hand as we sipped our drinks in peace, her grip firm and reassuring, though I could feel the tremor of emotion in her fingers. Her pain, like mine, was heavy, but we bore it together.
She and I remained side by side for the entire day, our hands still intertwined as if anchoring each other to the moment.
As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the ground as the light shifted, people drifted away one by one. The gathering dissolved naturally, each person departing at their own pace, lost in thought. Soon, only the six of us remained.
Emile and Rocco stood a little way off, their conversation muffled by the distance but filled with unspoken memories. I caught a few fragments of their words—something about Enya and Kate, but I didn’t want to intrude.
Across the clearing, Sean and Caden remained in their own private worlds of mourning. Caden’s face, though stoic, was etched with the kind of sorrow that came from years of enduring loss, while Sean couldn’t hide the grief swirling behind his eyes. There was no need for words between them.
My legs had gone completely numb from sitting for so long, but I didn’t move. It felt wrong to break the stillness, to disrupt the muted vigil we had formed beneath that tree.
Eventually, Emile gave us a curt nod, his face unreadable, before he portaled out. His departure was quick, efficient, like everything Emile did.
Rocco stood next, rising slowly to his feet. He walked over to where Saoirse and I sat, gently taking her hand in his. She squeezed my fingers one last time before allowing him to pull her up. They walked away together, side by side, their figures growing smaller in the distance as they made their way back.
Which left just the three of us—Sean, Caden, and me. They crossed the clearing slowly, as if feeling the weight of what this moment meant. When they reached me, and sat down beside me, no one spoke. The silence that settled between us was loaded but strangely comforting—a quiet acknowledgment of everything we’d endured together.
I hadn’t spoken since the morning, not a single word since the ritual had begun. But now, the thoughts that had beenfestering inside me were becoming too much to contain. The lump in my throat swelled, and before I could stop myself, I spoke.
“We should’ve fought our way out,” I said, the statement slipping out as if it had been waiting, building for hours.
Caden’s head snapped to me. His eyes were intense, a flash of surprise crossing them before they settled into something more guarded.
“We hid in a fucking wall instead of fighting, and then we portaled out to Batura Sur,” I continued, my voice growing more unsteady. I tried to keep it emotionless, tried to stick to the facts, but the agony made my tone crack. “If we’d fought, Sean and his team would’ve had fewer Radicals to deal with. Kate, Christopher, Enya… They would still be alive.”
The words hung in the air between us, thick and heavy, the content of my own accusation suffocating me. It wasn’t just an observation—it was a confession, a regret I had been holding onto since the moment I learned of the casualties.
Caden sighed, a deep, weary sound. He leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing as he prepared to respond. “Emma,” he began. “If we’d been caught before getting to Batura Sur, we might never have retrieved the Amplifier. We didn’t fight because securing it was more important than anything. Remember what it was capable of: wiping out entire Collectives of magi—thousands of lives.”
I heard his words, but they didn’t sink in. They were logical, practical, but they didn’t ease the ache gnawing at my core. The reasoning felt cold compared to the loss we were facing now.
“We were cowards,” I snapped, the anger flaring up before I could stop it. The irrational rage surged through me like wildfire. “We ran instead of standing our ground, and people died because of it.” My hands clenched into fists, trembling withfrustration. The guilt I had been trying to bury finally broke free. “They died because we chose not to fight.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Emma, nothing that happened on that battlefield was your fault. Our missions were different. You and Caden had to retrieve the Amplifier. I was in charge of extraction. It was my faulty strategy that led to their deaths, no one else’s.”
I should’ve reached out to him, should’ve comforted my friend who was clearly weighed down by his own self-reproach. But my emotions were a tangled mess, spinning out of control.
I was grieving, but more than that, I was dreading what was coming next—returning to Cyclos and leaving this place behind. Leaving the people I loved, the ones who had become my family. The thought hurt more than I could handle, and instead of dealing with it, I lashed out.
“Then we were all at fault,” I snapped, my voice biting and cold. I kept my gaze locked on the water ahead, refusing to look at either of them, succumbing to a fury that had nothing to do with Sean. But I couldn’t stop it from spilling out.
“Sean.” Caden’s deep, authoritative tone had an unmistakable edge. “Leave us.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sean nod stiffly before turning to leave. His retreating figure only made the shame stab harder at my heart. I was being cruel, and I knew it. But I couldn’t stop myself. I felt sore, exposed, and my mind was spiraling. Everything hurt, and Sean had been an easy target for the chaos churning inside me.
