Farewell in Flames

It was almost as if Aluvsha himself was crying.

Despite the torrential downpour that fell on the black-garbed crowd before a stark white pedestal, not a single umbrella could be seen. Though the rain fell heavily, it could do nothing to wash away the inconsolable grief that everyone felt.

“It is with a heavy heart that we must announce the death of Dame Trista Fairbright, a knight who added beauty to the world...”

After that, nothing Eirlys said reached Medrauta’s ears. The silver-haired knight could do nothing but stare at the body that rested on the pedestal before her. An unfathomable emptiness gnawed at the center of her chest and even the warmth of Viviane’s hand in hers felt insignificant to the cold that pervaded her body.

She thought she was going to be alright. She thought that after that fit of tears and emotional release yesterday, she had moved past the sorrow that lodged itself deep in her heart. That she would be ready for today.

She was wrong.

The sight that laid before Medrauta had forced her to confront the sickening reality that was now a part of her world. A smile had been taken from this world, and it would never return no matter how many tears she shed.

Trista’s death would remain forever as a memory of her impotence. Of everyone’s impotence.

Many of the knights who were in attendance had also been present during the witch’s attack, yet none of them had been fast enough to save Trista from her fatal fate.

Just what was it that we endured our training for? Was it for this? For one of our comrades to die? Medrauta grit her teeth in anger and frustration as tears pooled in her eyes. She refused to let them fall. So many of us were there, yet none of us could lift a single finger...

Two knights now stood where Eirlys once did. Their countenance was dark and somber, and though all the knights shared a sense of anguish in Trista’s passing, it was nothing compared to what these two knights felt. That much was evident just from a glance.

The knights introduced themselves as Emily and Loretta, Trista’s roommates. They spoke of Trista’s accomplishments and praised her amicable nature, but their voices were devoid of emotion. Both of them stared straight at the crowd of mourners, their eyes blank and lifeless as if they too had perished along with Trista.

Once they finished speaking, they dragged themselves back to the crowd while Eirlys promptly replaced them. Though there was undoubtedly sadness in Eirlys’ eyes, she alone seemed the most unaffected by Trista’s death.

It was natural after all. A senior knight who had witnessed the horrors of the first war against Kaslavna had no doubt witnessed more than a handful of her closest comrades die. It wasn’t as if she had been desensitized to death, though. Rather, she was just far better at putting on a strong front before the grieving students who looked to her for guidance.

“...It is unfortunate, but we will not be able to send Trista off properly like this. As such, we will postpone the procedure until tomorrow.”

Though the crowd had expected as much, those expectations did nothing to stop the already sullen mood from dropping precipitously. In the Avalyne Empire, it was customary that someone’s corpse must be burned after death, the tradition stemming from the belief that it was the only way to ‘release’ someone’s soul and allow them to return to Aluvsha after death.

However, given the state of the heavy rain that poured from the heavens, it would be impossible to light a fire under such conditions, much less burn a corpse.

“...You would deny her even this...?” A lone voice murmured from within the crowd. Though the speaker was by no means loud, the silence that suffused the air served to magnify his voice to be audible by all.

A man stepped forward, his once-pristine clothes drenched from the downpour. Though his eyes were moist and his cheeks wet from more than just rain, he stared at the body on the pedestal with an almost determined gaze.

“Lord Edward, please stand down. It is not yet your turn to speak,” Eirlys said.

Edward ignored the senior knight as he strode toward the pedestal with flint and steel in his hands. He stood over Trista’s body, his hands shaking and his shoulders trembling. His attempts to produce the sparks necessary to set Trista’s body aflame were futile in the heavy rain, but still he continued.

“...Lord Edward. I know the pain that you must feel right now, but you must restrain yourself for Trista’s dignity. She would not want this,” Eirlys spoke gently, her long eyelashes fluttering.

Edward did not stop. In response, he made but a single declaration.

“I will light a fire.”

That one simple sentence resounded powerfully in everyone’s hearts, drowning out even the drumlike cadence of the falling raindrops. It hung in the air, accompanied only by the sound of Edward striking steel against flint.

The shuffling of footsteps was heard as two knights made their way out of the crowd.

Emily and Loretta stood beside each other, their swords drawn as they spoke in unison.

“I will light a fire.”

Though the two knights were still soaked in grief, there existed a light of resolve in their eyes now, their spirits lit aflame by Edward. They stood over Trista’s body, striking their swords against one another with such force that sparks flew from the steel.

Even so, it wasn’t enough. The merciless rain washed away those sparks of hope that sought to ignite a blazing flame.

“...That’s quite enough, Lord Edward. Dame Emily, Dame Loretta. Please retu—”

Medrauta drew her sword, the silver of its steel shining brightly despite the dreary backdrop that it was cast against. She had recovered it after it had slid out of the witch’s shoulder, holding it high above her head now. Though its edges were jagged and its hilt dreadfully worn, it drew the attention of those around her like a beacon of light.

Medrauta fixed her gaze on Eirlys’, her jaw set in a determined line.

“I will light a fire.”

Similarly, other knights around her began drawing their swords, raising them in defiance to the heavens. They echoed the sole sentence that Edward had spoken, and that lone declaration became a chant that repeated as the knights advanced toward the pedestal where Trista laid.

“I will light a fire! I will light a fire! I will light a fire!”

Eirlys could do nothing but stand back as she watched the mourning knights march forward in solidarity. She did not wish to oppose them, but more importantly, the sight touched her heart. Even during her wartime days she hadn’t seen such a beautiful display of unity in the face of suffering.

“E-Everyone...!” Emily and Loretta’s eyes now moistened with newfound tears that were shed not only for Trista’s passing, but appreciation for the knights who stood against even the will of the heavens to give Trista a proper sendoff.

The knights stood in a circle with Edward in the center, all of them simultaneously striking their swords together with every ounce of strength they could muster, birthing countless sparks that joined those that Edward produced.

At last, Trista’s clothes caught flame, but it still wasn’t enough. The heartless rain doused those hard-earned flames before Trista’s soul could be freed by their blaze.

Though the sight was no doubt demoralizing, the knights did not relent. Instead, the extinguished flames merely drove them to strike their swords with even greater force.

Damn it! Is it still not enough!? Medrauta inwardly cursed. We’ll send you off, Trista! No matter what!

Suddenly, strands of silver light began to lift off her body as a great wave of strength surged through her limbs. Medrauta’s eyes widened as her gaze left Trista’s body.

Among the crowd that stood across from the circle of knights was Viviane, her Crest manifested in all its glory. Her eyes met Medrauta’s, the determination in them equal to that of her knight’s.

“We will light a fire!” Viviane declared loudly for all to hear.

The nobles around her gawked in surprise for a moment before taking up her chant and manifesting their Crests, bestowing them upon their knights and enhancing their strength. The campus grounds filled with the sounds of steel clashing and the sight of sparks flying.

“We will light a fire!” Both knights and nobles roared alike.

United solely by their strength of will, the knights’ swords struck against one another simultaneously, a shower of sparks raining down upon Trista’s body. There, they joined with the once-futile sparks that Edward struck. A defiant pillar of flames burst forth, burning with such intensity that not even the heavens could quench.

Though its luminous body flickered and waved, the resolve that now burned brightly in those who watched was immovable. Its warmth seared away the despair and dread that hung in the air, replacing it with radiant hope.

At last, Trista’s body had been lit aflame, and as her body turned to ashes and her soul flew to Aluvsha’s domain, the rain stopped and the clouds parted as if to welcome her return.

Medrauta stared up at the now-blue sky and the sun that had finally revealed itself. She allowed her grip on her sword to relax, and it clattered to the ground.

“...See you later, Trista.”