Ch. 2.28 | Pyre
PoV: Sanya
That's her. That's Zahira. The snarky and fed-up girl I met three months ago in Glorestra, when she did have words to say. We went to the academy together. She was one of the two there for me when others weren't, alongside Mai.
Now. She's gone.
“We gather, in absence of Heliux's light . . .” the priestess began. She was a bit too tall. Her voice was just slightly off, in some way Sanya could not place. “. . . because it has receded its light in honor of the one here with us today. The world and its light quiets in this moment, because someone great has left this plane.”
It was definitely difficult to see. The ground was illuminated only by the moon, stars, and the close lights of Calderae. Guards patrolled on the inner side of the ditch, carrying lanterns.
The cold nipped at Sanya through her robes, and soaked her face like frigid water. She shivered. Beside her, Mai was not faring any better.
“Zahira Of-None. An orphan from Glorestra, saved by Barakat, Nur, and Mutamid. There, great friendships blossomed, and something a little bit deeper than that,” the priestess continued.
Sanya fought the urge to yawn. All these words . . . all this useless ceremony. Was Heliux even real? No one could know, probably. Like, seriously, what was the point of all this? Was it just because some religion pounded it into society some years ago that it became some cultural tradition? What did it serve?
“Zahira was many things. A friend. A partner. A talented, flexible mage. Perhaps, even, she became a daughter again, in part.
“She left this plane honorably—in battle to make this world just a little bit safer for everyone in it. She fought and died trying to close a mysterious orange portal. Who knows what kinds of monsters would have emerged and disrupted our world had it stayed open? Like the monsters draining blood and lives to the west, or the ever-growing field of death to the east? Or the constant monsters of the abyss showing up wherever they please?”
Oh. Aisha or whoever hadn't told the priestess about the threat of the eldritch entities. Sanya had thought that had spread more, and that was why the other cities would not send aid. Perhaps this priestess was in the dark? The fewer people who knew about it, the less potential panic. Maybe it was a rebellion thing, too. If people knew Sanya and Esmat would doom them all, would they fight against Aisha and her support of their lives?
“But alas, this is not about our current despair. Let us help move on Zahira, as well as our own souls. Let us bring Zahira into Heliux’s most special light—a single blaze amongst a sea of darkness. Let us give closure to what is no more, and try our best to continue through whatever trials life has for us.
“Please step forward with your contribution to Heliux’s blaze, to heighten the light show just how much Zahira meant and means to those gathered here. May Heliux take care of her beyond—accept her in a brightest embrace.”
Fajr was the first to step forward with her piece, placing it within the built up wood around Zahira's body. Fajr stopped in front of the pyre, staring towards it as she began to speak. She had short hair, like, average-boy short. Sanya did not see that often. Nice that she went against the norm though. She was probably cool.
“I did not know her for long,” Fajr sniffed. She was trying her best to hold back tears. “But she fought well, and she led us like a true commander. She made sure we were okay, or that we were ready. She helped guide us to efficiently tackle the unknown that came our way.
“She was . . . incredibly competent, and a powerful personality. It . . . hurts that she's gone. That perhaps I failed her. If I was just better . . . A stronger time bubble could have saved her, or . . . something . . . I'm sorry.”
Fajr walked back to the group, using a hand to wipe tears from her face.
Then came Lania. She stepped up to place her piece and then paused there, trying to come up with her own words. “I also . . . only knew her for a day. Undeniably, she had a presence. You could tell the gears in her mind were working well, and always. She put her brain to work when we were there with Calinichia, asking the right things and coming to her conclusions. She fought for her partner, Esmat, when given a . . . choice. She fought with ferocity despite the odds against her. Maybe, wherever she goes, she can continue being a positive menace and fighting with ferocity. Never give up on the things dear to you, Zahira.”
Lania returned to the rest of the group—specifically to Nadiyya, clinging onto the much taller woman as if her life depended on it, one arm linked around another.
They reluctantly unlinked when it was Nadiyya's turn to place her piece, although only for some seconds. “I don't have worms—words. I don't have words, sorry.”
Sanya winced. Nadiyya's backlash replaced words with worms. This was . . . a rather terrible time for her backlash. Not that she had any control over it, and it seemed to happen always—nearly every sentence. How many embarrassing moments has Nadiyya had with it? Knowing her, she either never felt it or just shrugged it off when it happened.
“That's okay,” the priestess responded quietly. “To both.”
It was okay that Nadiyya's backlash happened and that she did not have words, the priestess probably meant.
Nadiyya gave a quick nod and then found Lania again.
“Zahira was like a daughter to me,” Aisha said, walking up to the pyre. She snorted. “Or maybe I was a grandmother. I look the part. Anyway, I helped find a roof to put over her head, a city to call home. I made sure that she was taking care of herself and fed. Of course, she had a bit of an attitude.
“Which . . . I heard it is perhaps normal for teenagers.
“She died in battle as a teenager. Far too young to die, and especially to fight. Yet she did so anyway, and without complaint,” Aisha shook her head. She placed her length of wood with care before walking back, expression downcast, looking towards the ground.
“I guess it's my turn . . .” Mai whispered, stepping up to the pyre. She sniffed once. She paused, probably to gather her words. “W-we had a lot of fun together. Hanging out in the academy, or with Sanya in the i-infirmary. Once that was done, w-we saw the world b-beneath the tempest together. Subturrier . . . Ranyoris . . . New Kanimaw . . . Speleothem. We had so much fun exploring and hanging out. A giant . . . Zahira-shaped hole is now gone, and with it, a radiating source of countless joy.”
Mai placed her piece. Returning, Sanya could barely make out the tears that streaked Mai's face. She sniffed again.
“She's gone,” she whispered.
Sanya's heart ached. Somehow, seeing Mai feel this poorly hurt Sanya more than the fact Zahira was dead.
Not that it did not hurt Sanya. There was a void there, in her chest.
Sanya wanted nothing more than to wrap Mai in the warmest hug. Maybe even cry together. Later, perhaps. Not now. It would be unbecoming of them in the middle of this ceremony. Sanya did not want to be too improper. A certain, small amount of impropriety was allowed, though. Sanya was not perfect, and did not want to follow a stuffy ritual and its social norms and sanctions too much to the book.
“It's your turn, Sanya,” Mai said.
Sanya nodded. With her log in hand, she brought it over to the pyre and placed it next to where Mai had put hers.
“She was one of two people to be there, to hang out with me in my worst hours. When there was no one else, save for Mai, Zahira was there. That speaks volumes of her person—caring, even when we're at our worst.
“For that, I owe her everything. Knowing someone for three months has never felt like such a long and fulfilling time, for the reasons Mai stated. Zahira was a step above the rest.”
Sanya returned to her place by Mai's side. Zahira was one of the old ones, history all the way back to the day before the academy. Zahira, Mai, Sanya, and the other two. Ismael was it? The bigot. Then the weird one that didn't talk much. Sanya, for the life of her, could not remember the fifth one's name. It's not like she saw either of those two often. Who knew where they were or what they were doing now. Sanya did not care enough to ask Aisha if they were guild members.
Zahira was part of the inner circle. While it had grown in one or two members recently, losing one hurt. It made the world around Sanya seem that much smaller and quieter.
No one else. This once was already a failure beyond measure. No. One. Else.
The gaping maw in Sanya's chest throbbed. Her body shook.
The first tear fell.
“Esmat. It's your turn,” Mai reminded.
Ah. Esmat had just been standing there.
They gave a shallow nod before stepping up to the pyre. They tossed their log in and returned without a word.
“Nothing? . . .” Mai tilted her head.
“No one is required to speak,” the priestess said.
Mai sighed.
“With that, the pyre can be lit. Heliux's light will bathe the honored fallen, focusing its attention in this spot alone in a sea of dark. Let the honored fallen be soothed by the light and taken by Heliux,” the priestess went on with the ceremonial speech.
Aisha took a step forward, no staff in hand. “Let Heliux accept Zahira in a brightest embrace.”
Fajr repeated the line.
Mai and Lania did so after that. Then Nadiyya.
There was a pause.
No one else.
Aisha used basic Thermal magic to heat up the wood. It combusted into flames.
The heat brushed against Sanya from a handful of meters away. The pyre pushed back the darkness with an intense, orange glow.
They stood there, in the dark of night, watching Zahira's body burn away down to the ashes.
“I will not make . . . this . . . in vain,” Esmat finally muttered. “The suns will continue to rise for us all.”
Sanya took her right arm and wrapped it around Mai, pulling her close.
Mai glanced towards Sanya, looking up with a grim smile. “Promise me. Promise me we'll get through this together.”
Sanya hesitated, then nodded once. “I promise.
Mai stepped in front of her and turned, wrapping both her arms around Sanya. Sanya's other arm completed the full embrace. She even summoned an eldritch arm to pat Mai's head.
Mai jumped. Then gave a human of contentment.
“No one else,” Sanya whispered, like her mantra, at this point. “Least of all, you or me.”