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Mercedes had always seen herself as somewhat levelheaded, despite the stubbornness and arrogance she expressed in her youth, yet here she was, feeling both nothing and everything in the wasteland she had come to love, just as she had come to love Ingway. She knew the sun must have been scorching her delicate wings, reminding her that her duty was elsewhere, but she remained, pale knees rubbed raw by the dark sand as she grasped the cold hand she once held so fondly with a vicelike grip, her shoulders shaking.
Mercedes had seen war before, it had taken her mother, after all, but her mother had not made a promise. Her mother hadn’t held her hands so tenderly, hadn’t given her a gentle kiss, hadn’t looked at her the way Ingway did. He had said they would meet again, but this wasn’t the meeting Mercedes had dreamt of. His hair was tangled, matted, his clothing ripped, his eyes glassy, and Mercedes cursed his name for ever leaving her alone like this. But at least he wasn’t suffering in the body of that beast, at least he wouldn’t be forced to watch her fall as she was destined to. He had faced too many hardships in his short time, all undeserved, and now he was finally at peace. He had fought so bravely and she couldn’t have been prouder, she couldn’t have loved him more.
Mercedes cupped his icy cheek and whispered a prayer, her vision blurring as she felt a rumble under her feet and she was once again reminded of her fate. She stood slowly with her Riblam at her side as she turned to face the red glow on the horizon, the shouts of her soldiers far off in the distance. With tears in her eyes she marched on towards her duty. Only the world tree could stop the flames and Mercedes’ resolve was unwavering. Even though she couldn’t save Ingway, she could at least try to save this world.