Kiara placed the bowl of incense at the head of the pyre, then grabbed her staff. She walked throughout the congregation, touching each of us lightly with the griffin stone.
“Blood of my blood,
heart of my heart,
remember me as I live on.
I fear not death, for I receive eternal life.
Remember me within your spirit
Until we join again, remember.”
Emma was the last to be touched by the staff. Kiara tapped it lightly upon her hand. Emma nearly flinched before Kiara backed away.
Kiara took a short breath. “If anyone wishes to say a few words, I invite them to come before the pyre now, and speak your final goodbyes.”
No one got up at first, until I heard Lord Lucien whisper to Evonna. Lucien proceeded in front of the pyre and said, “Lady Magdalina was an extraordinary woman, as all of you are aware. She was a fantastic sorceress, an incredible headmistress, and a friend to us all. In all my years, I’ve never met anyone like her, nor do I think I ever will again.”
There were sniffs and tears from the congregation. Lucien cleared his throat. “Magdalina was accomplished in everything she did. She had no offspring, for she considered her students her children. Arcanea University was her heart and soul, and she put everything she had into teaching and nurturing her students. Her greatest wish was to mentor young people, and create out of them fae our nation would be proud of. Her compassion for her students, and the wisdom she passed on, will be her greatest legacy.”
Lucien took a pause. “But over everything else, her mission in life was to aid Emma, and make sure my daughter survived.”
Emma stiffened beside me as Lucien locked eyes with her. “This wasn’t a mistake, my child. Magdalina knew what she was doing. She considered this a worthy sacrifice. As she said, we all must die. And this was her choice. You still have choices to make going forward, as do we all. I think we should all do our best to honor Magdalina as we move on.”
Lucien departed from the pyre, and returned to his seat. No one else proceeded forward.
Kiara turned toward my mate. “Emma? Is there anything you’d like to say?”
My wife shook her head, and Kiara nodded. “Very well. Stefan. If you please.”
Stefan rose to stand, and walked toward the pyre. He changed into a dragon, and lightly blew flame upon the wood.
It ignited instantly, and Lady Magdalina’s body became swathed in fire. The heat of a dragon’s flame was magical— it burned hotter than a normal flame, and thus, devoured the body in seconds. A crackling sound swelled over the area as Magdalina’s bones began to break and burn.
A wind stirred up. As the ashes rose into the sky, people began wailing.
I couldn’t help it. I leaned over my knees and broke down. How could we manage this world without Magdalina? It wasn’t just her power that we’d lost. It was her knowledge, her guidance. I didn’t think we could go on after losing her like this. What would we do without her?
Emma didn’t cry, and that was the most heartbreaking thing of all. She just stared onward, and watched the ashes drift into the sea below.
Stefan’s fire consumed the pyre in a matter of minutes, turning it into a pile of embers. There was nothing left of Magdalina’s body, save for whatever was mixed up in the ashes.
Lucien changed into a wolven and began digging into the ground. I shifted, and went to help him. When we had a decent-sized hole, we pushed the ashes into the earth with our paws, and buried them completely. Kiara scattered petals over the grave, and it was done.
People began to return to the manor. Emma stood at the grave, looking down and appearing ridgid… so cold. For nearly an hour, my friends and I remained, watching my mate at a distance.
“Should we get her?” Odette asked. “She’s been standing there a long time.”
“Leave her be,” I said. “She needs a moment.”
Finally, Emma turned her back on the grave and walked toward us. Throughout the whole thing, she hadn’t shed one tear.
But her expression was different. When we’d arrived, she’d been lonesome, sorrowful.
Now, the blaze in her eyes… it spoke of something far more frightening. Her fists were clenched at her sides, mouth set in a hard line as she stomped past us.
There was a small mourning dinner that Faylin prepared. We ate, sharing stories around the table about Lady Magdalina, what kind of a person she was and our fondest memories of her.
