The day Alkibiades was punched in the face, by a fist with no body, was the day he learned not to trust necromancy.

  “ No brain doesn't mean no zombie.” He'd heard more than once in his years in the order.

  So, now here he was, trying not to hurl, collecting the limp and bloody bodies of the recently deceased. Scattered around the field from moments ago.

  Most of them were still in one piece, thankfully. Though that didn’t make the job any less gruesome. His strength was gone, and the bodies got heavier with each addition to the pile.

  This wasn't the first time he'd been on burial duty, but it never got any easier. At least he usually had help, but not this time. Grief and trauma began slipping into his mind. He started seeing the faces of his fallen templars among the bandits, before blinking them away.

  Horren and Malastare had gone off searching the houses for anything of use. When Al accused them of looting already, “Resuppling” Malastare swiftly corrected him. He hated to see the validity of it.

  Lillyth and Marvel had taken the surviving girls towards the nearest house to try and help them recover.

  Alkibiades saw Aeyona, leaning against a wall staring at her hands. Quiet. Gently shaking. He had an idea, maybe he could help her shake it off, while getting help disposing of the remains.

  “Hey there.. “ al began uncomfortably,

  “You're uh.. you're pretty good with fire. Think you could lend me a hand?” As he gestured towards the pile of blood and skin.

  Aeyona's eyes, who had been trying their hardest not to look, followed his gesture towards them. They landed on what was left of her victims. One man’s face was simply missing, torn off by the blast in a smear of red and pink.

  The other looked worse. His chest had collapsed inward and split open at the seams, as if the force had shaken him apart from within. Shredded muscle clung loosely to jagged bone. His skin hung in strips where vibration had torn it from the frame. She wheezed and cupped her mouth in response.

  “ Woah, please don't. I'm barely holding..” Al began to protest, before Aeyona began hurling up her empty stomach in the grass.

  This pushed Al over as well and he joined her.

  After they managed to catch their breath, and stand back up straight, Al began his endeavor again.

  “Look, it's awful. I know that, but if we leave them like this they may just stand back up again. I can't do it again today.” Alkibiades said, his voice was tired, his soul more so.

  He’d burned too many bodies. More than he’d ever buried. And the smell always stayed. In the nose, in the armor. In the soul, if that was a thing he had left.

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  He reached for her hand gently. “You’ve got fire in you. That’s all I’m asking. Just fire. You can even do it with your eyes closed if it helps.” He lifted her arm toward the pile. She clenched her eyes shut.

  “Just… please don’t hit me again,” he added, softly.

  Aeyona’s eyes flew open. Guilt, anger, and embarrassment all collided at once.

  She trembled again, and then exploded.

  “I’m sorry, okay?!” she shouted before shrinking back, voice dropping.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you with the fire. Or keep... nearly missing.”

  Her words tumbled out, fumbling.

  “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. Nothing ever goes right.”

  Frustration filled her voice as she lamented.

  Al tried calming her down,

  “Hey, hey. You’re okay. Just the fact that you can do anything at all? That’s amazing. You’d still be amazing even if you couldn’t, okay?”

  He laid a steady hand on her shoulder and met her eyes.

  Aeyona sniffled a bit, a tear in her eyes as they met his. She nodded her head at the encouragement.

  “I.. I think I can try..” She let out quietly. Her voice cracked, but it steadied with the words. Like she was anchoring herself to them.

  She closed her eyes, aimed her arm towards the pile of corpses. Or at least close enough.

  Al gently nudged her arm over the correct way.

  She focused on creating fire. Imagining the heat of the air around her, pulling it inwards. Forcing the heat to build up and condense in her palm. She could nearly feel the flickers begin.

  Then with all of her power she unleashed her magic, forcing her intentions into reality.

  Yet again, reality replied.

  There was a sudden splash.

  Like someone had tipped over a water barrel beside her.

  Then came Alkibiades’ sigh, the kind that carried more weight than sound.

  She opened her eyes.

  Al stood there, soaked from head to boots. He looked around with defeat in his eyes.

  The corpses were now soaked as well.

  Somehow, that made it even worse.

  Aeyona gagged yet again and briskly walked away, hands to her face. Mumbling apologies falling out as she fled.

  Al kicked a stone.

  “Stupid magic,” he muttered. “Shit never works…”

  The girls sat on the floor of a broken home, beyond the bloody field.

  They didn’t speak.

  Not when they were led from the ruin. Not when the blood cooled on the grass.

  Not even when Malastare told them, bluntly and too honestly, that there was no one else left.

  The taller brunette women stared straight ahead. The other younger blonde woman watched the sky like she was waiting for it to collapse.

  Lillyth knelt a short distance away, not hovering, not pressing. Just present with them. Unsure what else to do. She hadn’t worked the courage to even ask them their names yet.

  Her hands were idle. But something about her stillness made the air feel softer around them. Warmer. Like how the world felt quieter inside a church, even without the hymns.

  She wasn’t trying to heal them like she's used to. Not directly. Not when she didn’t even know how to name the wound, let alone cure it.

  There was no bleeding to stop. No bones to knit. Just… absence. The kind that sat behind the eyes and echoed.

  Threatening to flood into tears any moment.

  Marvel was curled at the feet of the silent pair, all limbs and fur. Her tail flicked once every few heartbeats. She made no noise. She didn’t press against them. Just existed in their gravity, like a small sun trying to hold orbit.

  Every so often, the younger woman’s fingers drifted toward Marvel’s fur, hovered, then dropped back to her knees.

  It happened three times. Marvel didn’t move.

  On the fourth, the hand finally touched her. Marvel pressed up, gentle and warm, into the contact. A cat’s weight, grounded and breathing. A reminder that the world hadn’t ended yet, not completely.

  Lillyth watched with a stillness that almost ached. Her eyes shimmered faintly in the low light. Not from tears, she’d still not let those escape yet.

  Something older. Something else.

  It was a presence, like the hush before snowfall.

  Like a prayer whispered by someone who didn’t believe anymore, but wanted to.

  Calming peace emanated from her, imperceptible but constant. Like warmth from a hearth too distant to feel directly, but still enough to keep you from freezing.

  The taller survivor flinched once when the wind shifted. Just a twitch, barely there. Her breath caught a little too long. Then her hand reached up and gripped the other woman’s wrist. Sudden, too tight, like she expected the other to vanish.

  The smaller blonde didn’t pull away. Her eyes blinked slowly.

  And then…

  She leaned her head down against the taller woman’s shoulder, the way a child might.

  And stayed.

  Lillyth let her breath go. Quiet. Careful. She didn’t want to break the moment.

  Marvel, now sprawled out, yawned dramatically and made a show of stretching a paw across one of their boots. The smallest things.

  None of this would fix them.

  None of it was enough.

  But it was more than silence.

  It was something.

  A reminder that, at least, they had survived.

  Until the black flames erupted outside.