Page 119 of Death of the Glass Angel
Snickering, Felsin stared into the distance. “I have one secret. Nobody knows what my catalyst is.”
“Oh?” Talon raised an eyebrow. “And I get the honor?”
Asking a cefra about their catalyst was considered rude. For many, their link to their magic was deeply personal. Talon’s certainly was.
Swiveling around, Felsin’s tone turned somber. “Do you know how many people are buried in the Forebear’s Monolith?”
“A few hundred?”
Felsin scoffed. “Try a few thousand. The monolith houses every previous chief, their families, and important figures.” He looked down. “My father is buried there. Deep in the earth.”
“Ah,” Talon said softly. “You couldn’t cast until he died.”
“No.”
A cold breeze ruffled Talon’s hair, interrupting the lingering silence.
“It must be comforting,” Talon said. “To believe his spirit watches over you.”
Felsin laughed. “It takes a long time for the dead to become revered ancestors. Years and years of people paying respects at their graves. Each prayer strengthens their connection to our world until they are finally anchored enough to be released.”
“. . .what happens to those who aren’t prayed to?”
“They’re lost,” Felsin said sadly. “Their spirit weakens until it fades from existence. I can think of no worse fate.”
Guilt tugged at Talon’s heart. He had not visited his mother’s grave in years. The dead made him uncomfortable, and graveyards set him on edge. Not many in Sigilus believed anything remained of the person in the bones beneath the dirt.
“You must have been close.” He eventually said.
“We were,” Felsin said. “But I hold my memory of him, and that’s enough. And so long as someone lives who remembers the dead, they are anchored tighter to us until they watch over us from across the veil.”
Talon’s eyes flicked toward the sky, where the sun had settled in the heavens. Viridian worshipers believed heaven lay with the sun, while the Cefran pantheon preached reincarnation. Was his mother watching him from on high, or was she a kid somewhere—living a new lease on life? Neither thought comforted him. He’d never see her again, regardless.
But who would remember Talon’s mother if he did not?
Felsin tilted his head. “Are you thinking about someone in particular?”
“I thought you were a fortune teller, not a mind reader,” Talon said.
“Songbirds are all cefra, no?” Felsin presumed. “Makes sense. You share a maevruthan, so you can trust one another. How many of you are there?”
“Less than you’d think,” Talon admitted. “There aren’t more than a few dozen at a time. And I shouldn’t be telling you that.”
“People say I have a face that sets people at ease.” Felsin joked, then frowned. “Evokers always fascinated me. Memory is a powerful thing, but so few realize why.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
Felsin’s brow lowered. “Memory is so much more than yesterday. Immortality belongs to those whose names are never forgotten. History nobody wrote down ceases to exist.”
“Hm.” Talon breathed a laugh. “Janus would love to have that conversation with you.”
“We get along surprisingly well.”
“You’re both. . . weird.”
Felsin chuckled in agreement.
They stood there in silence as activity buzzed in the camp behind. Talon thought about walking away a few times, but remained glued to the spot despite his best efforts to escape.
