Ander stared at Elliot's gravestone. It had been a few days since the funerals, but he still needed to think.

  It had been a long time since Ander felt so powerless, and he just couldn't stop thinking about his parents. Just like then, nothing he could have done would have saved Elliot. He'd led his soldiers into a hopeless battle that they hadn't all returned from. He had thoroughly failed as a leader.

  Of the graves, Elliot's was hardest to find sufficient. Because no one could retrieve his body, there were no ashes to spread on his obelisk. Even though Flyte desperately searched for Elliot's spirit, or even just his summoning rune, he could not find it, so Elliot's grave had a blank slab.

  To finish the blow, almost everything Elliot owned that mattered to him fell with him or was destroyed. His mask was as good as dust. Most of his weapons had been obliterated by Telin. They'd had to argue with the honorsoul to hand over Elliot's Montante for ages, and he only relented when Atula stepped in.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  That Montante was the only thing they could lay at Elliot's obelisk.

  With so many rites missing, Elliot's friends only had a stone, a sword, and some words to see him off.

  Flyte hadn't been in a good enough state to speak, and while Ander had tried his best, he couldn't imagine that his words were anywhere close to adequate.

  "Ander?" Eris called.

  He looked to her. "What is it, my love?"

  "Everyone's all ready to leave," she said. It was clear that Eris did not want to impede on Ander's mourning.

  "Is Flyte coming with us?"

  Eris looked down for a moment. "He said not to wait for him."

  Ander nodded. It made sense. Memories hurt, and only a week ago Flyte was just a kid, in more ways than one. He could not blame the boy for needing space.

  "Then let's get going."