Chapter Text
— °˖𓆙 ~ ❀˖° —
Bonesbourgh, The Boiling Isles
Outside of Battle Relief Camp
Ten Years Ago…
──
If death had a scent, she knew it was this. The smell of slow roasted meat against campfires, the smell of dried blood and dirty clothes and bodies pressed together. The sound of footsteps and the clank of pots and pans. The iron taste of blood in her mouth, the dried gash of it against her lip. The salt of the tears in her mouth, the burn of them against her cheeks.
All around her, people talked and whispered and cried and sobbed and babies cried. She could barely make all the voices apart from the pounding of her own heart, forever stretching some uneven rhythm.
Her heart. Still beating. Alive.
As were all the hearts around her. The last of her world, the remains. The stragglers. The survivors. The lucky ones.
As she sat there, she sure didn’t feel very lucky.
They were all alive, but yet dead in a way. Empty inside. Puppets, husks of their former selves.
Not dead, yet they still rot. Not close to flames, yet she burned and her lungs were full of smoke.
( They were burning the bodies starting tomorrow. The orange sky would be painted to a sickly gray and red. A deep, glorious red.)
Her head snapped up as he felt a limp hand on her shoulder, the scratchy blanket pressed into her collarbone. Her purple hair, brown roots poking out, parted, revealing her face.
The older green-haired witch in front of her wavered. She hadn’t slept in two days. She had been on the other side of the makeshift camp. She had watched people die, wrote their death certificate until they were nothing but a name. A body.
A body to burn.
A pile of ash.
Her amber eyes met light brown ones. Yet they asked an unspoken question.
The older girl only shook her head.
She felt her heart get trampled on for the thousandth time that last two miserable, miserable days. Hope was a foreign thing now, left to throw to the wolves, left to the bright-eyed, childlike wonder.
“No body matches her description,” she answered out loud. Her voice was shaky, rough. They hadn’t spoken for the first day. At all. “I’ve seen them all.”
The lilac-haired girl wavered. “What then?”
“We wait. All bodies show up eventually.”
Bodies. She was just a body now. Something to bury or burn or discard and then forget about.
She shook her head. She was floating again, outside her body.
She somehow felt a strong arm around her neck. She was numb to it. “And then you can say goodbye.”
Goodbye. What a horrible idea. A horrible word. It was not a good bye. It was heart-wrenching, soul crushing. It would kill her.
“But.. if there’s n.. no b-body,” she whimpered. “What if.. if..?”
Her words dissolved into the air, laden with heavy smoke. Somewhere else in the huddled groups, someone coughed.
She didn’t believe her own words anymore. She watched her die with her own eyes.
(She watched her die.)
Her sister was willing to say the words that absolutely no one had dared to say yet, not so soon. “It’s over,” she whispered. “She’s dead, Amity.”
Dead, dead, dead.
The words echoed around her empty skull.
She felt her whole world shrivel and die once more.
──
Hundreds of bodies were accounted for that day. Some were whole, some were in parts. Some were burnt, others covered in blood and gashes. There were flashes of raw bone and flesh and brain and organ.
Most were burned. Graveyards were overrun. Only the rich had the luxury to bury their dead. Families were left to grief.
The sky was gray for days, choked with the plumes of toxic smoke. It burned your eyes, scratched the back of your throat, tickled your skin.
Many bodies were found that day, everyone, all walks of life. Witches. Demons. Animals. Male. Female. All ages — from children all the way up to the elderly.
Civilians had been left to fight. This was the result. A mass destruction, a public execution. A death sentence.
They uncovered the bodies. They counted their dead. They grieved and moved on. They rebuilt.
All the bodies were accounted for, all recognized and called to the proper family. All of them had a family to grieve for them, to bury them or cherish their ashes, to have stories passed down by in front of the flickering fireplace. All of them. Every single body accounted for, found throughout the Isles. Every single one.
Except for one.
──
Intercepted Letter
Found in the City Archives
Bonesbourgh, Old Council Chambers
Sent to Head Witch Raine Whispers, Head of the Bard Coven, from Headkeeper Maginus
One Month After the Battle…
Head Witch Whispers,
I have taken the time to read over your request. As you know, we have been overwhelmed by the amount of bodies. All are kept on record here at the crematorium whether they are buried or burned.
I have triple checked our records to identify the body you are looking for. I have had no such luck. Head Witch Whispers, there is simply no record of a human body here, not oncever.
Now there is a chance the body will come up later. I will keep you updated in case of that situation. However, I do give my apologies. After all my years of work, I fear that a lost body is the most likely case. Bodily ruins can be damaged or destroyed.
I would recommend a proper funeral to say your goodbyes. Everyone has had the time to mourn their dead. It will give you a sense of closure.
My condolences,
Headkeeper Maginus
──
Next Uncovered Letter
Two Months After the Battle…
Head Witch Whispers,
I have reviewed your last letter. Yes, I agree that the lack of body is alarming. I now know that the location of the body was known only hours after the end of the battle.
That was only two days before the dead were counted and first clean up crews were sent out. They should have found the body, or at least the ruins.
This does trouble me, as does the concerning amount of missing persons.
I shall investigate further, as per your request.
Best wishes,
Headkeeper Maginus
──
Last Known Uncovered Letter
Written In a Rushed, Lazy Manner
Two Months After the Final Battle,
One Day Before Headkeeper Maginus was Declared Dead…
Head Witch Whispers,
This case still keeps me up at night. We have always been able to find answers, to uncover the body. The dead don’t talk for a reason, after all.
Why can’t we find the body?
Maybe we have been looking in all the wrong places.
In Deep Thought,
Headkeeper Maginus
──
One day later, Headkeeper Maginus is pronounced dead. He is found dead, face down on his desk in the study.
His blood stains the wood.
His head was bashed in. Ten hits from the back of the head.
Questions are left unanswered.
The dead don’t talk for a reason, after all.
──
Headkeeper Maginus’ Certificate of Death
Kept in the City Archives
Two Months After the Battle…
Name: Maginus DaAnne
Sex: Male
Age: 47
Hair: Black Eyes: Green
Day of Birth: 09/07
Day of Death: 01/02
Time of Death: TBD
──
Letter Remains Found Hidden In the City Archives
Kept Under Lock and Key by the Order of the Empress, Miss Lilith Clawthorne
Last Known Written Words of Headkeeper Maginus
Found Three Years After the Final Battle…
Head Witch Whispers,
I am not crazy. I swear on my life. There is a reason there is no record, no answers. There isn’t a body to uncover, Head Witch. There’s no body at all.
Because she’s not dead.
──
End of Transcription
Rest of Letter Found Torn,
Supposedly Burnt by Fire
──
Records from Chest Crematorium (Classified)
Kept in Private Records in City Archives
Name: Luz Noceda (The Human)
Sex: Female
Age: 15
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Tan
Status: Presumably Deceased
Investigation: Ongoing
──
Recent Update Made to File of Crematorium Classified Records
Nine Years after the Final Battle…
Name: Luz Noceda (The Human)
Sex: Female
Age: 24
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Tan
Status: Alive
Investigation: Ongoing
──
Last Known Edit Made to File Before It Was Deleted Altogether.