Voices joined the two, rising together. First Duchess Grishen, who sang crystal clear. Then Violetta and Idelt, and all of Landsmecht. The people of Afiele took up the song as Cara looked around.

Princess Seraphel was silent. She did not know this song. Nor the Thronebearers. Yet every person of Noelictus knew it. They sang together.

Loudly and softly. Choking on the words or taking each one carefully, giving it everything they had.

So many bodies. So many tears. This was a song for all of them. Afiele’s farewell.

“The Tomb of Afiele is calling

And when my last harvest comes

I shall sleep beneath the meadows

Of the home that I have loved.”

Then Cara heard a swell of voices, saw the last singers joining the song. The living folk of Afiele started, and the song wavered one moment.

Then it continued as Afiele’s people—their long-dead ancestors—joined in the singing.

They knew the words. Each ghost sang the exact same lyrics. Arteis. [Knights] and valorous [Mages] of old.

And…Dalius. He met Cara’s eyes a moment, his shining with tears he could never weep. He sang with the others. Of everything—that had never altered.

“Bury me among the resting;

Take me home to Afiele.

Let my soul rest ever after

And give my life to grow again.”

The last note hung in the air as Culin and Sasi stepped forwards. They placed something on the lids of each coffin.

For his mother, a flower plucked from the gardens. For her father, the last sprig of dark wheat taken from the burnt fields.

It was done. Sasi’s knees buckled as she stepped away and Culin caught her. Duchess Grishen bowed her head.

“We lay the [Lord] and [Lady] of Afiele to rest. They have given their all in service to the land and its folk.

Everything their class asks of them and more. Step forwards, and say your last farewell.”

She was first. Grishen bowed deeply to Culin and Sasi, then walked forwards to stand before the two coffins. What she said was lost on the winds. When she turned—

Then she was weeping. Next followed the people of the keep, who knew them best, so few remaining.

The gaps in their number, like Meltain, conspicuous. Then the people of the town. Then the villages.

Slowly, painfully, every single person in Afiele walked across the hilltop.

And said goodbye.

——

Cara did not know what to say.

I’m sorry. Sorry for bringing this here. Sorry for not doing my utmost from the start. Sorry…that the world doesn’t have more people like you two.

If it did, surely, it would not have days like these.

She was not the last person to speak to them. That was Princess Seraphel—and then Culin and Sasi, once more. Pallbearers stepped forwards, four for each coffin.