Page 160 of The Last One
“And then?” Jadon asks, his voice growing anxious.
I lift a hand and wave it across the charred landscape.
Jadon scans the ruined earth with jumpy eyes. “Did you hit every soldier?”
I look at him with great intention. “That is my hope.”
There’s something in his eyes, beyond the sadness of Veril’s end. Anxiety and flickers of anger…but not at these piles of murdering fuckers.
“Are you about to tell me that I shouldn’t have?” My voice is so solid, it could hold the realm. “That I should’ve waited for you to act? That I let my anger take over?”
Jadon scowls. “I’m trying to determine if the emperor’s son is now a pile of ashes.”
I stare out at the flames. The ashes of soldiers look no different than the ashes of trees and brush. “I wish you luck in your determinations.”
Jadon shakes his head as he stares at the damage. With a ragged breath, he pushes to his feet and strikes out to search the wreckage for signs of Gileon Wake.
I turn to Philia. Her back shakes as she cries, her face hidden behind her hands.
“Philia,” I say softly.
She looks at me, her face as red as the embers. She opens her mouth to speak, but she can’t catch her breath between sobs.
I hold out my arm. “Come here.”
She crawls over to me, and I wrap my arm around her. She touches Veril’s cheek—it’s true—and she weeps into my shoulder.
As I hold her, Jadon paces the burned landscape. He frowns, then clasps his hands over his head. He looks back at me as though I’m a stranger, then he turns away and drops his head.
She will bring each of you death.Yes. Elyn’s right—and every one of these soldiers, especially Sinth, deserved every agonizing moment.
My body feels swollen, too big for my bones. My fingertips feel seared and tender from killing all these men scattered around me.
And Veril… He’d still be alive if I hadn’t asked him to join me on this journey. He’d still be alive if I hadn’t shown up at his cottage, a bloody wreck needing to be healed. He’d still be alive if Jadon and I had killed those burnu and hadn’t needed Veril and Warruin to complete the job. He’d still be alive if we hadn’t raced away from Maford, a village that burned down only because Elyn was looking for me there. He’d still be alive if Olivia hadn’t stolen my amulet. He’d still be alive if I hadn’t betrayed my family and if I hadn’t destroyed Chesterby, if I’d stopped to think without reacting. Without choosing violence.
Veril is dead because Sinth killed him.
Veril is dead because I’d already failed him.
We bury Veril as the fire wanes. The land still simmers, the heat still pushes at my face. The embers serve as a barrier to any creature that intends us harm.
Philia has found a nice spot for the old man’s body. “And I have my small spade,” she says. “It may take a while to dig, but it’s better than nothing.”
We bury Veril beneath a cinnamon tree. According to Veril, cinnamon symbolizes abundance and protection. Cinnamon heals. The Renrian provided all of those things.
Philia and I remain silent as Jadon slides the spade into the dirt. I say nothing as I anoint the old man with aromatic oils I found in his satchel. Rosemary, so that we remember. Cistus, for those who grieve. Yarrow to purify this space. Together, the three of us wrap the Renrian in his cape—the lavender one stenciled with butterflies, ravens, and dragonflies.
And then it comes—an ancient lamentation swelling from the depths of my soul. A melody that I must have learned, possibly from Veril, and kept in my heart. My voice quavers at first but soon grows stronger, the haunting notes mingling with the rustle of the leaves above and the crackle of embers of a ground that will never feel cold again.
Jadon marks the grave with a black jet stone, one of the stolen gems we found in Olivia’s bag, and whispers, “Goodbye, Veril Bairnell the Sapient.” He touches the grave once more, then stands and drifts away.
Philia whispers one last prayer that I can’t hear, then follows Jadon.
And now, I am left alone, not sure of what to say. And so, I say nothing.
The sky above us shifts from blue to an ominous purple. Another falcon flies closer to the trees in the weak light. But the still-billowing smoke hides us.
I select the most perfect crabapple from the few left and place it beside the jet stone.
