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“Fire, as with life, is bright but temporary,” he began.

“When angry, it burns hot and fast, destroying everything in its path. When calm, it can be harnessed as a tool, lending a helpful hand in times of need. Today, we seek the comfort of its warmth to soothe the wounds of loss. We seek the beauty of its color to turn the Goddess’s gaze our way, that she might smile upon a weary traveler and take the soul of Vyrain Sinthaid of Wysalar into her loving embrace. ”

Cantal raised his hands and lifted his face skyward, eyes closed.

Several seconds passed before he turned his attention back to us.

He picked up where he left off, intoning, “Now, we are given an opportunity to say farewell. Let the flames burn away the resentment, guilt, anger, and other things best forgotten, leaving our spirits light and resilient once more.”

The old man stood to hand us each a stick and nodded to the fire.

The warm glow highlighted the age lines decorating his face.

“This is the part of the ceremony where those who knew him say their goodbyes,” he told us.

“You may speak out loud or in your heart, whatever feels right. Take as long as you need—even if that’s the rest of the night.

When you’re ready, add your kindling to the pyre, and let your burden burn along with it. ”

Glancing at the figures on either side of me, I shifted to ease the pressure on my knees. If Hohem did want to sit here all night, I’d need to get comfortable. “What do we say?”

“Whatever you do not want left unspoken,” Cantal replied. “I will keep the fire burning.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. The guilt came first, so near to the surface.

I’m sorry about the way things ended; you deserved better. I hope you’ll forgive me.

After the guilt came regret, the things I’d never told Vyrain and should have.

I’m blessed to have known you, however short our time together. You were a light in all our lives, with your strength and your humor. Thank you for everything. I hope that wherever you are, it’s comfortable, and the people are kind to you… If there are others, that is.

Silence overtook the clearing as we all participated. Did Cantal have anything to add? His expression revealed nothing. What did Luthri have to say? Head bowed, he joined the rest of us in quiet, but he’d barely known the man, and half the time, they’d been at each other's throats.

Hohem stared into the fire, his fingers digging into his thighs.

I hoped he was kind to himself. However many regrets I might have, he had it worse.

When I thought of Munarzed, I recalled Hohem gripping his brother’s broken body as though it were yesterday.

His wails of grief haunted me. Did he see it when he closed his eyes? Did he blame me?

Cantal’s words shook me out of that line of thought. ‘Let the flames burn away the things best forgotten. Add your kindling to the pyre, and let your burden burn along with it.’

Well, I guess that’s it. My hand squeezed around my stick. A few more silent words, and my arm swung. The weight of my regrets joined the wood to be devoured by flames.

Luthri added his a moment later. The smokiness in the air increased, as though our burdens polluted it. Some time passed before Hohem shuffled forward to lay his stick in place. A bland mask over his face, he returned to his spot without a word.

“Do you have anything of his?” Cantal directed the question at the remaining twin.

Hohem’s hand went to his belt. His brows furrowed. “I have his ashes, but…”

When he made no move to continue, Cantal stoked the base of the fire, remarking, “The departed are carried with us regardless of whether we are physically burdened. It is your decision… But while the memories belong with you, held close to your heart, I believe the body belongs to the earth whence it came. Perhaps it is another thing best given to the fire.”

Hohem’s eyes followed the motion of Cantal’s hands as he contemplated the proposition—carry his brother’s ashes around for the rest of his life or let go of the last thing he had to remember his sibling by?

He pulled out the little pouch, rolling it between his fingers.

Closed his eyes. Sucked his teeth. Then he reached forward and added the ashes onto the pyre.

Beyond taking the occasional name in vain, I’d never been a spiritual person. Evidence pointed to religion being a hoax. Ghosts? An afterlife? Who knew. But when the fire leapt for the sky, a collective gasp rang out, and peace settled over the group like a comforting fog.

Maybe there’s something to it after all.

“He is with Hermenia now,” Cantal announced, getting to his feet with a grunt of effort. “His spirit will join the ranks of those who came before, becoming mana , and find his way back to us someday, whether in the form of raw energy or another physical form.”

The opashi placed a kind hand on Hohem’s shoulder. “Come along, boy. I’ve a stiff drink if you want it and a cot you can borrow if you don’t. I’ll watch the fire once you’re settled in.”

The two made their way inside to bed down for the night.

Hypnotized by the dancing colors before my eyes and the swirling thoughts behind them, I stared into the flames long after they were gone.

“This is for you.”

I dumped a bag in front of Cantal, the rattle of coin against coin piercing through the hubbub of Hohem and Luthri wrangling our cantankerous avida into place.

The cleric, mending a blanket on the stoop as he watched us pack up, paused his work. “That’s not nec—” he started.

“It is,” I insisted, shoving the money closer to him. “Consider it compensation for the food and showers from last time, or use it for the shrine. Either way, it’s yours. Thank you.”

One weathered hand pushed the bag back toward me. “I’ve done nothing outside the realm of my calling. It’s been my pleasure to serve.”

“Be that as it may”—I nudged it in his direction once more—“we’re in your debt and will hear no protests.” Backing up so as not to give him the chance to return the money, I went on to say, “We’ll be on our way now. Thank you again, and the Goddess be with you.”

The opashi clicked his tongue in reproach, but bowed his head. “And with you.”

I returned the farewell gesture and pivoted to join the boys. Navigating the path, I passed the small pile of smoldering ash—a stark reminder of the perils we’d faced—and said my last goodbyes, hoping that it would somehow reach the person it needed to.