May you never know the pain I knew, little Issari, she thought and kissed the babe. May you never feel so alone, so afraid, so hurt. May you always know a home, loving parents, a world of beauty. A tear streamed down Laira's cheek. Because I will never know peace, and I will never know beauty. The pain is too deep, the scars inside me too real, too raw, wounds that will never heal.

When she closed her eyes, she saw them again—the demons of the Abyss, the cruel face of Chieftain Zerra, and her mother burning at the stake. She still heard so many screams, and Laira knew they would forever echo in her nightmares.

It's too late for me to know beauty and joy, she thought. But not for my daughter. Not for our children. May my life be a sacrifice to them, and may my pain be the foundation upon which I can build them a joyous life. She kissed her daughter's head. That will comfort me in the long, cold nights when the memories do not leave. That will bring some peace for a soul too torn to fully heal.

And that, she thought, was not a bad future. Her life so far had been of pain, of terror, of loneliness, but many years still lay ahead—years of of healing, of family, of starlight.

The dragons sang as they flew in the night, and riding her husband, Laira added her voice to theirs. "Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky."

Laira had no more wings, but she knew that the sky would forever be hers, forever be their children's, forever be the true kingdom of Requiem.

LACRIMOSA

 
LACRIMOSA

She walked among the birches, holding her daughters' hands.

"Mama, I'm bored." Agnus Dei stamped her feet. A girl of three years, she had inherited her father's olive skin, curly black hair, and fiery temper. "I want to go home. I want to go." She struggled to break free from Lacrimosa's grip.

"Hush now!" Lacrimosa said. "It's the Night of Requiem. Three thousand years ago, our first king raised our column in the forest. We must go pray."

"But I hate praying." Agnus Dei pouted. "I hate it I hate it I hate it. I want to go home and play with our new puppy."

Lacrimosa sighed. The girl was a handful, a wild little beast, a ball of endless tears, passion, anger, love, and laughter. Lacrimosa loved the little devil more than the stars above and the ground beneath her feet.

"I like praying," said Gloriae, her voice soft.