I stood in the aftermath of battle, my hands still trembling from the raw power I had unleashed. The air reeked of scorched earth and shattered truths. The silence that followed wasn't peace—it was emptiness.
I fell to my knees.
Not because I was weak.
But because the weight of it all finally cracked something inside me.
"Mary..." I whispered, her name breaking against my lips like a dying flame. My cousin. My family. The one who laughed with me under moonlit skies, who held my hand through nightmares, who believed in me even when I couldn't believe in myself. Gone. Stolen from this world by that monster.
Tears spilled freely, hot and relentless, as I clutched the bloodstained shard of her pendant. I pressed it tightly against my chest, as though I could keep her soul close—protect what little of her I had left.
"I should've protected you... I should've known..." My voice cracked, falling apart like the world around me. I gasped for breath, every sob sharp as glass in my lungs.
I screamed.
Loud and broken.
Not for anyone to hear.
Just for her.
The earth beneath me felt hollow, the wind too quiet—as if the very world mourned her too. My fists struck the dirt, again and again, until my knuckles bled, but the pain inside remained untouched. Nothing could reach that deep.
A breeze stirred the trees, whispering her name, and I imagined it was her voice—soft, reassuring, still watching over me.
But it wasn't enough.
Nothing would ever be enough.
So I stayed there, curled around the pendant, letting the silence take me. Letting the tears come until there were none left.
All I wanted… was to be alone.
Alone, so I could mourn her without interruption. So I could break without being watched. So I could remember every moment I had with her—until those memories were all that remained.
The world blurred through my tears, the edges of reality softening like a half-remembered dream. I didn't know how long I lay there—minutes or hours, maybe longer. My body trembled from exhaustion, but I couldn't bring myself to move.
Then... the wind shifted.
Warmth brushed against my cheek.
A soft light—gentle, golden—wrapped around me like the embrace I had been yearning for.
I lifted my head slowly, blinking through tears. And there she was.
Mary.
Not in the way she was when I found her—broken, still, lifeless—but as she used to be: vibrant eyes, mischievous smile, her hair caught in a breeze that wasn't there. She knelt in front of me, her presence soft but unmistakably real.
"Anna," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you crying like you've lost me forever?"
"I did lose you," I choked out. "You're gone, Mary. And I wasn't there to save you."
Her smile didn't fade, but her gaze held depth, sorrow, and something older—like she had seen further than I ever could. "You didn't fail me. You gave me something no one else ever could. You gave me beliefs. You gave me strength. And you still have so much more to do."
I shook my head, my fingers clutching the pendant tighter. "I don't want to go on without you."
"You don't have to," she said gently, placing her hand over mine. "I'm part of you now. In every breath, every fight, every step forward. But you have to move forward."
The light around her grew stronger, more radiant. It didn't hurt—it soothed.
"Promise me," she whispered, "you'll live. Not just survive. And when the time comes… fight not just to win, but to protect."
I looked into her eyes—those familiar, fearless eyes—and nodded through fresh tears. "I promise."
Mary smiled once more, and the vision began to fade, her warmth lingering like sunlight on skin.
"I love you, Anna. Always."
Then she was gone.
But I didn't feel hollow this time.
I felt full.
The sorrow still weighed on me, but it no longer crushed me. It burned instead—a steady, focused flame.
I stood slowly, the pendant now pulsing faintly in my palm, as if her heartbeat had passed into it.
I wiped my face, looked toward the path ahead, and whispered, "I'll make them pay. But more than that… I'll make sure you're remembered."
And with that, I walked forward—no longer just mourning.
But carrying her with me.
Always.
As the sky dimmed to a haunting twilight, I knelt beside Mary's still form, my hands trembling but resolute. For a long moment, I couldn't move—grief had rooted me to the earth. But then something stirred inside me, a whisper carried on the wind, not of despair but of duty. Slowly, I rose to my feet, brushing the tears from my cheeks as I looked down at her peaceful face.
"I won't let your soul be trapped in sorrow, Mary," I whispered, voice barely audible above the breeze.
From around my neck, I unclasped the delicate silver pendant she had once given me—the one etched with the symbol of unity between spirit and mortal. I had worn it every day since she entrusted it to me, swearing it brought her peace when times were darkest. My fingers lingered on its cool surface before I gently laid it on her chest.
"I return this to you now, Mary," I murmured. "May it guide you to the light you deserve."
I stepped back, lifting my arms as I called softly to the spirits that lingered in the boundary between worlds. The air shifted, cooler, sacred. I began the ancient rite—a ritual I hadn't known I remembered—offering her body not just to the earth, but to the spirits of rest and release.
The pendant shimmered faintly, catching the last of the twilight. Then—slowly—the glow around Mary's body deepened, as if drawn by an unseen force. The air began to shimmer, and from within the light, they appeared.
Figures of soft radiance emerged—wisps of light in human form, faces kind but solemn. They hovered in a circle around Mary, their translucent hands reaching forward. One of them bowed its head toward me in silent acknowledgement, its voice a breath in my mind: "She will not wander. You have given her peace."
I felt the knot in my chest loosen as the spirits reached for the pendant. It lifted from her chest without being touched, floating gently upward, spinning once as if in reverence, before dissolving into sparks of silver light. The spirits pressed their palms to Mary's body, and a brilliant light flared—brief, warm, comforting—before her form softened and began to fade into the light, returned to the earth and sky.
"Take her," I said, my voice steady now, tears still falling but no longer of anguish. "Let her rest in light, not linger in pain."
The wind carried my words as if delivering them to the beyond. The last of the spirits turned back to me, eyes like starlight, and gave a slow, solemn nod before vanishing into the air.
I sank to my knees again, breathing in silence. The offering was done. The pendant, her memory, her spirit—they were all at peace.
The wind carried my words as if delivering them to the beyond. The last of the spirits turned back to me, eyes like starlight, and as they began to fade, a single feather—glowing faintly with the same silvery light—floated down into my outstretched hand.
Their final words echoed in my mind, gentle and clear: "Strength in sorrow, courage in heart. Walk forward with our blessing."
I sank to my knees again, breathing in silence. The offering was done. The pendant, her memory, her spirit—they were all at peace. And now, with the spirit's' blessing warming my soul and the glowing feather in my hand, I knew I had to rise again—for her.
Kai approached cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he saw me standing alone in the fading light, arms raised in a solemn ritual I hadn't shared with him. His breath caught as the spirits appeared—ethereal figures glowing softly around Mary's body. The air hummed with an otherworldly energy that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
For a moment, Kai said nothing, his face a mix of awe and confusion. Then, stepping closer, his voice was low and uncertain."Anna… I didn't know you could do that. That you would do that."
He glanced at the glowing feather resting gently in my palm and back to the shimmering outlines of the spirits slowly vanishing into the night.
"I never imagined… that this kind of peace was possible." His jaw tightened, as if struggling to reconcile what he'd always believed with what he had just witnessed."You always surprise me, Anna. But… this… this feels different. Like you're carrying something heavier than I ever realized."
Kai's eyes softened as he took a tentative step forward. "If you want to talk… or if you need to be alone, I'm here."
There was no pressure in his tone—only a quiet understanding, though it was clear he didn't fully understand it yet.