Mourning was the same, no matter the species.
The Memory Hall entrance was abuzz with all the civilians crowding around the statues which were now returning to their place of rest once more.
Ryker had hugged Mireya before he’d flitted away to find the Northern soldiers who had survived and bring them in for interrogation; those fortress dungeons would finally be of use, though I doubted Beren, Edrin or Lioran had told them anything noteworthy.
It had been a small moment, probably invisible to everyone else dashing around the scorched battlefield, but I saw how his arms had embraced her and hers had stood firmly at her side.
“I know it’s not you, but your soul’s probably listening,” he’d muttered. “Thank you.”
The civilians were doing the same with their loved ones. Byron’s wife grabbed onto his hand and joined him in his retreat, setting her head on his unmoving shoulder. The little girl, still carried in her father’s arms, followed her grandmother’s fierce statue, and kept telling her all about the new friends she’d met at school.
Mrs. Thornbrew clutched her handkerchief to her chest as she watched Geryll enter the crypt, Mrs. Mallowmere patting her gently on the back.
The crypt guardian kept muttering prayers as he oversaw the statues’ retreat, looking at them and then at the sky, thanking Solkar and their ancestors over and over again.
It was bittersweet, seeing them send off their loved ones to an eternal death once more and the statues being as impassive as stone.
But I would have done the same if my father’s sculpture had come to life.
Once I was back in Aquila, I would erect a statue for him right in the center of the stronghold.
In the early morning light, I couldn’t see anything past the crater’s shards. But I knew the Blood Brotherhood army was scouting the rim for any soldiers who had run away–and Nadya.
I hadn’t seen her in the final battle or among the bodies.
She had vanished once more.
The second Ryker had announced the army had come, whatever morale or hope the Northern Clans still had vanished. Their ranks had broken, soldiers had run away, and the fight was won within the hour.
Ryker rushed back from beyond the trees, dragging two exhausted, frightened Northern soldiers with him. He led them to the rest of the small group of captured invaders, surrounded by our warriors and healers, who gave them water and treated their wounds.
Then he was off into the forest with that amazing speed of his.
He still blocked most of the pain from me, the barest echo of it scratching against my senses.
But I was curious–and envious.
If I had been able to move as fast as he did, that night at the lake, I could have helped save Dax. I could have flitted through the soldiers during the first attack.
It was a huge advantage on a battlefield.
Especially one as devastating as this.
The mist had left behind only masks and weapons. In between, fallen soldiers and warriors, lost forever for a senseless strike. Families torn apart, souls taken from this world, bloody memories children had to live with.
My palms fisted at my sides.
The pointless violence had to stop.
I stared down at the closest mask, now mangled under the feet of the fighters. Who were these masked attackers–and how had they been convinced to fight?
What human would allow themselves to be destroyed like this and become a husk?
Orion agreed to taint his powers, my mind whispered.
Perhaps he had been on his way to becoming ash. But there were too many masks. Evie had been attacked by them, too. Not enough people in Malhaven possessed powers to be tainted.
The answer whispered at the edge of my mind, but refused to show itself.
