One day, she would bring down the Emperor himself like she was meant to.
Even if it cost her everything.
Rain sputtered from the sky, drenching her tunic and tracing warm trails along her cheeks.
“Alena…” Phoebe’s voice was gentle for once, hesitant.
Alena didn’t look at her. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, blinking furiously.
“Just keep walking,” she whispered. “Please… just walk.”
They reached the ruins where Phoebe had hidden Kaixo. The remnants of an old temple lay scattered across the hillside—toppled columns, weather-worn stone, and a partial wall sunk into the slope. Tucked beside it, a crude shelter of stacked stones leaned against the rise, half-concealed by ivy and shadow.
Their horses stood nearby beneath a clutch of rain-soaked trees. Phoebe’s bay snorted and stamped the wet ground, while Apollo lingered at the mouth of the shelter, ears flicking at their approach.
The three wolves stood guard outside as Alena pulled a fur blanket from her saddlebag and slipped through the shelter’s narrow opening. Inside, Kaixo sat wrapped in her cloak, pressed against the rough stone wall. Rain dripped softly from the edge of the stones overhead, but he remained dry. At his feet lay clusters of snowdrops and asphodels. In his hands, Kaixo held a dagger, the one Leukos had given him, and with careful, focused movements, he cut stems and wove them together.
Beside him lay San, her face covered by a blood-stained cloth.
“Kaixo,” Alena said softly, but he didn’t look up. Without a word, she draped the fur blanket over his hunched shoulders. His focus was locked on the fragile crown taking shape in hishands, yet his red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks betrayed the fresh wounds of grief.
When he still didn’t answer, Alena stepped back and sensed Phoebe’s presence beside her.
“What is he doing?” Alena whispered, her lips trembling. “He should be resting.”
Phoebe’s voice was heavy with understanding. “He’s making a crown of flowers for his mother… Something for her to wear at the burial. I found a quiet hollow nearby where we can lay her to rest. It’s not far.”
Alena took a hesitant step forward, ready to help, but Phoebe held her back. “Let’s leave him to his task. We have much to do.”
Outside, the rain had turned the ground slick and treacherous, though the frozen earth still held firm beneath. Together, they gathered stones and slabs from the ruined temple, the cold biting into Alena’s fingers.
When it was time to move San’s body from the shelter, Kaixo’s expression crumpled. A choked sob escaped him, and tears streamed down his face. He clutched the delicate crown of flowers close to his heart, watching Phoebe lift his mother’s still form.
Alena bent to gather the scattered snowdrops left behind with trembling hands, then followed them into the soft rain.
Phoebe laid San down in a natural hollow nestled beside a grove of olive trees, hidden from the open plain. Kaixo moved forward on unsteady legs, placed the crown upon his mother’s brow, then leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. His tears fell on San’s pale skin as he whispered a broken goodbye.
Alena knelt beside him, her chest aching. Carefully, she arranged the last of the snowdrops around San’s body—tiny white blooms like drops of light—and whispered the Freefolk blessing for the dead.
“May your ancestors watch over you for all eternity. May the stars grant you peace in the next life, and may the Moon shine over us.”
Her voice cracked on the last words. The soft patter of rain was the only sound.
Together, they worked in solemn quiet the rest of the day. They layered the soil over San’s body with care, Kaixo never straying far from Alena, until the grave was full. Then they placed the stones, one by one, building a low, sturdy cairn to shield her from the elements.
By the time they finished, the rain had thinned to mist, and pale rays of sunlight pierced the parting clouds. Their clothes were soaked, their hands blistered and caked with mud, but the grave—their final act of love—was done. They’d made a shrine where San could rest in peace, where she was loved and not forgotten. A Non-Human tradition, Phoebe had explained.
Murmuring something about tending the horses, Phoebe slipped away, leaving Alena alone with Kaixo in the hush that followed. The boy stood unmoving, gaze fixed on the newly made cairn as if willing himself never to leave it.
Alena placed a single asphodel at the foot of the shrine. The flower trembled in the breeze, fragile against the mound of stones. Above them, sunlight pierced the silver leaves of the olive grove, casting shifting mosaics of gold and shadow over the cairn. In time, the mound would grow soft with grasses, herbs, and wildflowers. San would have liked that—life blooming where hers had been taken.
Kaixo’s damp hair clung to his head, a few strands sticking to the mud-flecked bandage. Alena moved beside him, uncertain what to say, unsure if words could ever be enough. Instead, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into her, his grief seeping into her own heart.
“The Freefolk believe the dead return to the stars, where they watch over us,” she whispered.
Kaixo raised his head, tears swimming in his bright green eyes.
Alena gave him a soft smile. “Your mother will always be with you, Kaixo. She will watch over you now and will never be forgotten.”
