The fire had long since died, but the smoke clung to Aric’s clothes as though it wanted to remind him of what had just happened. The image of the consumed marked one—its ember eyes, its broken plea—haunted him even as he tried to steady his breathing.
They buried the body beneath the blackened soil of Brennor. The scarred man grumbled at the waste of time, but Seraphel insisted. “Even the consumed deserve rest. To burn the remains would risk releasing more of its corruption.”
The girl stood silently through the ritual, her small hands folded over her chest. When Seraphel murmured the final words, she whispered under her breath, “May the Heart remember you.”
Aric felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He wanted to ask her what that meant, but the words caught in his throat.
They left the r
