As the minutes stretched toward the inevitable conclusion of combustion, I shifted my weight and rolled my shoulders to release the tension. My mind barely registered the acrid scent that hung heavy in the air, the miasma of destruction that clung just as stubbornly to the walls as the memory of those I had sent into oblivion before Spiridion.
At last, the machine"s growl subdued to a purr and then to silence, signaling the job was done. Opening the crematorium’s door, I was greeted by the sight of grayish-white detritus—an unrecognizable testament to the man who now ceased to exist in any meaningful way. The heat wafted out, brushing against my skin like a whisper of the hell Spiridion"s remnants had just endured.
Donning a pair of thick gloves, I handled the metal rake and carelessly j
