Hewitt’s ghost became visible, looking like the military legend he’d always been—broad shoulders bound in his Order of the King coat, beard growing scraggly after weeks of travel, and those steel-gray eyes that caught everything.
“All right,” Hewitt said, his bushy brow raised as he surveyed the troop. “This isn’t going to be an emotional farewell. I have a few things to say, and that will be that.”
Hewitt turned to Ilain and Ethenn. “First,” he said, gruff voice softening, “I’d like to offer my condolences to you, Highlady. As someone who lost their family, I’d advise you to take comfort in those around you. If I’d have allowed myself to do the same, I wouldn’t have ended up a bitter old man.”
He paused, then added, “I wish I’d had the chance to tell your brother myself, but I appreciated his dedication to his craft. It was impressive, even if I don’t care for magic.”
An airy chuckle escaped Ilain, and her gaze grew glassy. “Thank you,” she said.
“And take care of this one,” Hewitt said, gesturing to Ethenn. “He seems docile, but he’s even more dangerous than you. He needs your love, not your cunning. Remember that.”
Hewitt turned from Ilain before she could reply. He faced his pupils—Ethenn, Rafferty, and Thom—with the steady stare of an officer. “You lot,” he began, the growl back in his voice. “Remember what I taught you. You’re my chosen team—not Deckard’s, not the bloody King of Ephria’s, not this damn Alliance’s.Mine.You look out for one another and listen to Evylin and Deckard. Got it?”
The three men shared a proud look before saying together, “Yes, sir.”
Hewitt turned to Thom alone then. “Remember,” he said, “your purpose is whatever you make it; just make sure it’s a worthy one.”
Thom’s shoulders drew back, accepting the charge. “I swear,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice, “I will make you proud.”
With a grunt and a small grin, Hewitt nodded. He scanned the gathered members of the troop once more, and though his expression remained as impassive as ever, Evylin could see the softness in his gaze. Then he turned to Evylin and Deckard. “Let’s go,” he said.
The ride to the site of the grave was quiet. They chose to take one horse to allow the others to rest as much as possible before another hard day’s ride. Evylin sat behind Deckard, her arms around his waist. It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, and she could still feel his tension at her touch, but the trip was short. Only an hour later, they slowed to take in the forest between Acre and Virwoud.
Evylin tapped into her magic, scanning the tree line. Despite knowing the general location of their old camp, the seasons had changed the landscape dramatically. Lush green leaves clung to the branches, dancing gently in the wind. The late afternoon sun was golden, casting languid shadows across the grass. Their memories could only serve them so much.
With the Space Relic around her neck, she found her focus easily. She worried she’d start relying on the Relic too much, but she was grateful for it as her hands trembled at the task before them. She meant what she’d told Deckard the previous day; she would be all right without Hewitt. But that didn’t lessen her desire to keep him by her side.
“It’s another fifty paces up,” Evylin said, pointing toward the entrance to the woods.
Deckard guided the horse off the road. They dismounted and led the horse into the trees. Almost two months ago, they’d camped within these woods. Yet now, it looked like an entirely separate land. Bright green growth filled the terrae. Woodland creatures darted through the trees and underbrush. Birds called their songs to one another. If Evylin wasn’t using her magic to guide them, she might have thought they were in the wrong place.
But she could also smell the subtlest decay of an old campfire and the charred remains of their attackers. It was a foul means of tracking, but it was all she had.
Her breath caught as they stepped into the clearing. The barren camp appeared haunted. One tent remained, almost entirely burned to ash. Burgeoning flora had already begun to reclaim it. The vacant firepit’s rocks were scattered from her scuffle with one of the swordsmen who’d attacked them. What few camp supplies remained lay strewn across the dirt and grass. They’d scavenged what they needed but chose to leave behind the rest, as Hewitt’s death tainted it all.
Evylin’s memories plagued her. She chewed on her lip, fighting them back. She didn’t want to remember Hewitt’s broken body. Yet, her imagination assailed her with the vision of his dead form—cold, rigid, and swiftly turning a sickly green. Her knees weakened, but she remained staunchly upright.
Deckard stood at her side, his fingers finding hers. He didn’t speak, but she could feel his sorrow wrapping around him like a wool cloak too.
“This is bloody depressing,” Hewitt’s ghost said, appearing suddenly.
An unbidden breathy laugh escaped Evylin.
“Come on,” Hewitt said with an unusual gentleness. “You can mourn me on the way to my grave.”
Deckard hobbled the horse, not wanting to lead it deeper through the thick trees. They began their trek, stepping over roots and rocks. Evylin’s heart felt as tangled as the underbrush around them. She didn’t bother stopping her tears or bearing up under her sorrow. She let herself mourn, knowing that this would truly be her final goodbye.
Shafts of yellow sunlight streamed through the treetops, creating a haven within the hollow of Hewitt’s grave. The mound lay to the far side, covered in a thick coating of lush green and ivory everbloom ivy. Evylin gasped at the scene. It was beautiful and heartbreaking all at once.
“You did a good job,” Hewitt said as they halted at the hollow’s edge. “This is a peaceful place.”
Pulling in a slow, staggered breath, Deckard muttered his response brokenly. “I’m glad you like it.”
Evylin looked up to see his eyes rimmed in glassy tears, though he held them at bay. His jaw was hard, and his hands were fisted at his sides. She rubbed his arm, offering an encouraging smile, though she doubted its strength.
Deckard’s eyes met hers, a sea of blue and green, blending and shifting together. “I’ll give you a moment alone if you’d like.”
Evylin shook her head. “Stay with me,” she whispered.
