Unmarked Graves

A dawning sun burned its presence into the cave entrance. Songbirds and morning calls found their way in too. Karevets and passing deerling interrupted the gleaming beams, casting shadows that mocked the corpses below.

He had woken moments after killing the other Steelbrites, only to endure the night. And now, the morning continued—only to scorn Taliesin.

With frozen ears and weathered eyes, he kept still on his lifeless lover. The warmth of her corpse quickly withered through the night. Even the copper stench of her blood diminished over time, and its chilling stains on his tunic remained.

Only silence filled his world.

Only shadows in his presence.

The endless night starved away his hunger and it drowned his thirst.

After he regained himself, he spent the first few hours wrapping the wounds of his companions. He then begged until his throat burned away his voice; his body clinging to ashes of their warmth.

“Varith—” he coughed, and an empty echo replied. “… I’m sorry, I was too greedy. I didn’t know how much love I could steal from a person—” His eyes depleted any tears that were meant to come, and instead—the feeling of needles stabbed his eyes. “Lei,” he whispered, “I wish you killed me when you had the chance. It would’ve been better than a broken promis—” A knot in his throat tore away his breath, not even able to finish the words that would’ve fallen on dead ears.

With the rest of his waning strength, he started to dig a hole beside Leiren. When his hands sliced through the dirt, pebbles cut against him. After an hour of digging, blood painted gritty streaks across his forearms. The pain never followed. Once his knees dipped below the surrounding surface, he carefully lifted the still aelorian in a stiff embrace and laid her in the hole.

After everything you’ve given me—I’m only strong enough to offer a shallow grave.

Afterwards, he started on another hole. This time he ignored the sharp pebbles, and each time they punctured him, he’d shove his hands farther into the dirt, finishing at the same level as before.

By this time, Varith’s corpse stiffened, making it difficult to move him. Taliesin didn’t have any more strength to carry him. Yet—as every muscle burned, he carried him with a final embrace. A fragment of the strength they had given him.

He started filling Leiren’s grave first. On his knees, he used both hands to shovel the dirt. Dirt cascaded around her body until it started to settle on top of her; a final blanket in her rest.

Then, in the same manner—Taliesin filled Varith’s grave. Each scoop of dirt drained more of his soul away. Varith’s face faded as dirt enclosed his final expression. When it vanished—so did the sun’s warmth. Taliesin’s body started to fail, his hands trembled and his arms didn’t reply to his commands.

Night crawled into the horizon. Daylight started to abandon the prince, leaving him alone with only foreign bodies as company.

A slight temptation to stay and wither away with his subjects. Would anything change if he did? Would anyone weep for him?

In the pocket of one of the Steelbrite’s breeches, scrunched papers poked out of the top. Taliesin lifted them out.

Signed by order of Shone: Cylar

The serrated blade which punctured Varith’s leg rested near the graves. Beside it, another that stole Leiren’s last promise. Blood-ridden dirt caked the outer layer of its steel. As Taliesin picked them both up, he made another promise—a promise that would coat a new layer of blood.