She was grateful. Cara ran forwards and hugged Sasi fiercely. The girl wept with her brother. Sidheag closed her eyes. She felt the rain soaking them all, as a ghost cried out and pointed, and the living found them. She wept for one bit of light in the darkness.

A miracle.

1.17 P

The air smelled like ash and fire as the last of the dead burned. In the distance, the pyres were fading. It had taken three days to burn the bodies and dispose of the last wandering zombies.

Yet it was done. Done, and done first. The gathering standing around the hilltop where the sons and daughters of House Afiele were laid to rest was quiet.

Villagers and townsfolk, guards and ghosts. Cara stood with the Thronebearers and Princess Seraphel, on the side of the gathering.

All eyes were on the two small figures standing before the plain, pale stone coffins upon which had been etched simple inscriptions.

Lord Lantal Afiele.

Lady Risel Afiele.

Onto their tombs had been etched their classes, their life written in short, simple verses. Cara had read the inscription as Culin and Sasi approved them.

They stood there, staring down at the lettering, painted silver.

Lord Lantal Afiele. Succeeded his father in protecting the people and fields of Afiele, gladly. His every day was spent in service of his home. Beloved by his people. His last hour he gave that his children might live. Rest now they are safe, [Lord of the Fields]. [Deathkeeper].

Lady Risel Afiele. She dwelt in Noelictus’ capital and came to Afiele for love. These lands she tended welcomed her, for she made them her own. Loved by all. She gave her life in Afiele’s darkest hour for her son and daughter. They live, and she is avenged. Sleep without rising, [Lady of the Commonfolk].

Simple graves. Without rich marble or enchantments to keep them forever. Soon, the silver paint would flake away, in the darkness.

Half of what had been written on each stone had already been there. Lord Lantal and Lady Risel had bought each coffin and written the first two lines. The rest had been said of them, but what they wrote said everything.

Succeeded his father in protecting the people and fields of Afiele, gladly.

She dwelt in Noelictus’ capital and came to Afiele for love.

Gladly. For love. They had only one sentence to write, and they chose that. Cara looked around. Her eyes were already filled, and not from the smoke.

The golden armor of the Thronebearers was tarnished. Not from battle or blood, but with dirt. With soot and toil.

The bodies had been burned. Even now, before the [Lord] and [Lady] of this land were laid to rest, the people knew their duty.

They had returned the undead to peace. Burnt them so they would never be used again. There was no way to find individuals—not more than a few. Each hand had worked, from the Duchess to the ghosts.