The woman looking up at me with tear-filled eyes motions to the woman in front of her with half of her face blown off. My stomach churns looking at the skeletal outline of her jaw and the melted flesh running down the right side of her face.
“I—I don’t know.” Her head drops and the tears begin to fall. “I’ll do my best to try, though.”
Mother, I don’t even know where to start.
I kneel down beside her hurt friend and see that her right arm is completely missing. I had been so distracted by her face that I hadn’t noticed the other damage. My eyes dart back and forth between both injuries before I decide that the arm is more important right now.
“What are you doing?” The woman’s voice is accusatory as she monitors my movements closely. “Her face—”
“Her face will have to wait,” I interrupt. “If I don’t stop the bleeding coming from her arm, she’ll die.” The woman quiets and does her best to comfort her friend who is still somehow awake.
I spend the next few minutes cauterizing the wound around her shoulder and ribcage. Once I’ve done all I can, I yell to a couple of others who have made some kind of stretcher out of bed sheets. It’s impressive how fast everyone moves. I suppose it helps that some of them are able to run on all fours.
There aren’t many supplies up here so I do what I can with the gauze bandages. I’m not sure how long it takes, but eventually we’re left with only the dead, lying around us in bits and pieces.
“We can’t leave them here like this,” I say, turning to Elias.
“I know. What are you thinking?”
“I need witches. A lot of them.” He nods and calls someone over I don’t know. They lean down to him, and he whisperssomething in their ear before they take off, shifting into some kind of tiger-bird chimera.
I direct everyone else to begin moving the dead to the cemetery. It’s far from where we are, but the wolves and fae that have been searching below for explosives have now returned to help.
“Did they find anything?” I hear Amaya ask Elias.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think Nexus brought any back with him. They would’ve been caught when he and Zane were searched upon arrival. I think it was already embedded in him somehow.”
“But that doesn’t mean the same has happened to Zane,” I jump in.
Two handfuls of witches show up and their magic helps the transportation process. Once we make it to the cemetery, I call the witches over. As I tell them my idea, they all look around at one another with smiling faces. Amaya isn’t yet experienced enough to help, so she watches from the sidelines, asking questions as they work.
When they’re done, the bodies that once had missing limbs and organs showing, now look like they’re sleeping. Only restored by temporary magic, but enough for their loved ones to say goodbye, remembering them as they once were.
I turn to Amaya. “Help me plan a memorial service for tonight?”
“Of course,” she says, looping her arm through mine.
Elias orders a few to stay back and keep an eye on the dead while the rest go see about assisting the injured and anything else Ryder decides. Amaya and I begin our long walk back to Grimstone, taking the time to lean on each other for support from the emotional day. While Amaya battles with the idea that Zane may be in just as much danger as Nexus was, I’m still reeling from the effects of the Sector bombings. It feels likeit’s happening all over again, bringing back all the nightmares I thought I had moved on from.
When we finally make it to Grimstone, we both seem to welcome the distraction of planning the memorial. As heartbreaking as it is, it’s better than the constant flow of dark thoughts currently flooding both of our minds.
A wall of vertical waves of light line the walkway. Images of the lost play out on them. Memories copied from the minds of their loved ones. It’s incredible what the witches can do. We’re mostly taught to use our powers for battle or to provide, but there is so much more we can accomplish if given the opportunity.
Family and friends visit their dead, decorating them with flowers and keepsakes. Amaya insisted on having a cellist from Nazrelia play and it was definitely the right call. Everyone is dressed in full white to represent the return to the stars. It’s devastatingly beautiful. A celebration of life mixed with the aftermath of death.
Forty-two dead.
Forty-two lives gone and there’s a very real chance that number will continue to climb by week’s end. And it’s all because of King Cimmerian. It always comes back to him.
“This was your idea?” Ryder asks in a hushed voice as he steps beside me.
“Amaya helped.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yes, it was my idea.” I cock my head to look up at him. “Why does it matter?”
“I suppose it doesn’t,” is all he says before walking away, leaving Damien to take his place.
