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The air over the Church of Saint Adama Landama was stale; here, even time came to a stand-still for those in mourning. The humidity turned bitter and biting, and the drone of the insects nestled in the nearby brush grew louder. Two new figures approached the southern edge of the church’s graveyard, clad in similarly colored armor sets; ahead in the distance, the blue light of Camp Drybone’s aetheryte crystal thrummed.
The eyes of the shorter, white haired man fixed upon the last grave near the fence.
“There,” Thancred said, swallowing hard. “That’s it.”
“Right where I remember it,” Samuel Mathis, renowned Warrior of Light, replied.
“Laid to rest with her father,” the gunbreaker added. “How fitting.”
“F’lhaminn thought so as well.”
Thancred inhaled sharply.
“I thank you for coming with me,” he said. “You didn’t have to take the time to do this.”
“Of course I did,” Sam claimed. “You needed me, so here I am.”
Thancred took Sam’s hand into his own and gripped it tight.
“I’m afraid I’d rather be alone for this next part, my love.”
“Sure, Than. I’ll be right here.”
Thancred nodded and took one step toward the grave; immediately, a third figure in dazzling purple came into view from the south, one that was recognized immediately.
“Oh dear,” the gunbreaker said.
F’lhaminn Qesh, the white-haired Miqo’te that once nurtured Minfilia Warde in childhood, stopped at the graveside and lifted her glasses to wipe at her eyes.
“Change of plans,” Thancred whispered. “I can’t go up there, not with F’lhaminn here.”
“Why not?” Sam asked, lowering his voice. “She’d love to know you finally made it.”
“I’m intruding, it’s not right-”
“You made it this far, Thancred. Don’t you dare back away now.”
“I need another few minutes, that’s all.” The gunbreaker’s voice grew frantic. “A few more bells and a few more minutes-”
“ Thancred -”
“-maybe a moon or two-”
Sam gripped Thancred by the shoulder.
“ Pull yourself together ,” he hissed. “ Don’t make an ass of yourself in front of the dead .”
Thancred took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly.
“Right,” he said. “I’m sorry, my nerves got the better of me.”
“You can do this, Than- I know it.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, Sam released Thancred’s shoulders.
“I’ll keep it brief,” he said.
“I’ll be right here.”
Sam remained in place as Thancred continued to the grave on his own, stepping slowly and being careful not to disturb F’lhaminn. The teary-eyed Miqo’te adjusted her glasses back on her head, and turned in Thancred’s direction. The gunbreaker froze, holding his breath until he was eventually spotted.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her tail shooting straight up. “Oh, Thancred !”
“Apologies,” Thancred replied. “I was trying not to bother you.”
“I-” F’lhaminn gathered herself. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I was just surprised.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, on the contrary! I’m glad to see you here! Truth be told, whenever I make my regular visit I always hope to see you near. Two moons now since I laid her to rest- so to speak.”
“I’m sorry for not coming sooner, truly.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that, Thancred! You’ve been busy ! I understand that, and so would she.”
F’lhaminn wiped at her eyes further, then noticed Sam lingering in the background; she gave a friendly wave, which Sam returned.
“Is he not coming up?” she asked.
“I told him to stay back, actually.”
“ Oh -” F’lhaminn cleared her throat, and her tail finally lowered. “You want to be alone. I’ll give you some space, sorry about that..”
“There’s no need to hurry off, actually.” Thancred’s feet shifted uneasily. “In fact, I’m rather glad you’re here. There’s things I’ve left unsaid to you this whole time, and I’d like to say them now.”
“Unsaid?” the Miqo’te asked. “Such as what?”
“Delayed apologies, for one thing.”
To F’lhaminn’s surprise, Thancred knelt on his left knee.
“Words cannot express the sorrow I have felt at Minfilia’s passing, nor the shame I feel in just letting the subject pass between us. In failing her as I did, I also failed you and subjected you to the worst kind of pain a mother could bear. For that, I am truly sorry.”
F’lhaminn stood in silence, then shook her head.
“Failed her?” she asked. “You silly man, what failure are you talking about?”
“I-” Thancred stammered, glancing up with a sorrowful look. “I was part of the reason she ran back in the waterways, and was helpless to save her from the Flow-”
“She chose to run back,” F’lhaminn reminded him. “She answered a call far greater than any of us here, Thancred. She chose to give herself to Hydaelyn, become Her voice, and she chose to help save the First. From what Samuel told me, the girl Ryne also made her own choice, as Minfilia wanted.”
“I-” Thancred kept on. “I know, but I-”
Tears welled in the gunbreaker’s eyes.
“I just felt so gods- damned helpless every time-”
His bottom lip quivered, and he quickly covered his eyes as the tears streamed down his face.
“Had I done more- had I intervened, mayhap she’d still be here with us. Mayhap she’d still be where she belonged -”
F’lhaminn stepped forward and touched Thancred’s shoulder, then reached down and cradled his chin. He gasped as he was made to look up at the Miqo’te.
“Come now,” she said. “No need for that. Let’s get you on your feet.”
Thancred wiped his face with his sleeve as he stood up, F’lhaminn keeping her hands on his shoulders. When he was upright, she pulled the gunbreaker into a hug.
“You sound like me after I first heard the news,” she admitted. “The chaos of the imminent end of our world having passed, it sounds like you’ve finally had time to throw blame at yourself. I did much of the same, wondering if things would have ended better had I done just one thing different. For a time, I even blamed Warburton for dying when he did.”
“What?” Thancred asked, shocked.
“See how ridiculous you sound now?” she said, lightly tapping his nose.
Thancred let out a surprised huff.
“We shouldn’t spend the time lamenting things that never were, Thancred. Had it been meant to be so, it would be. Instead of asking yourself these sorrowful questions, try this: had Minfilia not done what she’d done, made the choices she made, then where would we be today? Would our star have avoided destruction as it did? Or would we be mere footnotes of another Calamity?”
Thancred nodded, then sighed in relief.
“I shudder to imagine the world that could have been,” he admitted. “I hate to impose upon you, but would you mind waiting for a moment longer? Sam and I will gladly escort you back to Revenant’s Toll. Mayhap along the way, I’ll tell you about Ryne and the woman she became.”
F’lhaminn’s eyes lit up.
“I would like that very much,” she replied. “Please, take your time.”
The Miqo’te stepped aside, and Thancred approached the grave; he reached out, placed his hand on the headstone, and stood in silence. Within his mind, he searched for the right words to say. His heart, however, already knew them.
“Rest now,” he urged. “You’ve more than earned it.”
Thancred closed his eyes and took in another deep breath. When he opened them, he said just two more words:
“Goodbye, Minfilia.”
The gunbreaker stepped away from the grave maker, and put his arm around F’lhaminn as they headed for the waiting Sam.