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Kristen stood in the empty living room of Mordred Manor. They had fought Chungledown Bim, and defeated him, but they knew it was a risk.
They didn't know how big a risk. Maybe if Kristen had cast one more spell.... called to Cassandra one more time... maybe.... maybe....
But now, she stood in the empty living room, hearing the pained cries of Sandra Lynn from the kitchen.
Fig was dead.
Figueroth Faeth.... Kristen's best friend, Ayda Aguefort's paramour, Gorthalax the insatiable's daughter. Dead.
Kristen couldn't face Sandra Lynn, not now, maybe not ever again. It was her job to heal the party, to make sure they stayed safe and alive. And she failed. By time they found her, it had been too long for the spell to work. Kristen tried, prayed, screamed at Cassandra. Nothing worked. Her best friend was dead and she could do nothing about it.
~~~~~~
The following days were a blur of tears avoided gazes. Kristen and Sandra Lynn had seemed to come to a silent agreement to not interact.
Kristen didn't leave her room, save for trips to the kitchen at odd hours of the night and trips to the bathroom. Finally, it came time for the day Kristen had been dreading. Fig's funeral.
Kristen couldn't bring herself to sit with the other bad kids. All of them were in a row, Adaine sobbing into Aelwyn's arms, Gorgug and fabian silently holding hands, riz staring off into the distance. All four of her parents sat together. Jawbone holding Sandra Lynn tight, Gorthalax and gilear sitting together in silent understanding, Hallariel next to Gilear, her hand on his. Ragh and Tracker sat together, his large hand rubbing her shoulder comfortingly, Zayn sitting next to Ragh. The room was filled with people who were touched by Fig's presence.
The only other person who was in the corner was Ayda. She stood next to Kristen. Since the battle, Ayda was the only one who Kristen had talked to. They seemed to have a sort of silent understanding between them, Kristen knew a being who operated purely on logic wouldn't fully fault her for Fig's death. However, it was still hard seeing the teardrops of fire come down from the girl's eyes and seer the carpet.
Kristen felt two presences she was more than familiar with, one full of anger, wanting justice for her chosen one. The other in sad contemplation, in silent support of her wife.
~~~
Soon enough, the funeral was over, and Kristen was back in her bed, curled up, now looking out the window of her bedroom to where a fresh grave lay in the graveyard of Mordred Manor. A permanent reminder of her failures.
Weeks passed, Kristen screamed, cried isolated herself. Her room door stayed locked. The only person she talked to was Jawbone when he brought her a plate of whatever Lydia cooked that night.
Jawbone tried to help her, he did. But all she did was scream at him.
It was another one of those nights. Kristen sat on her bed, praying to Cassandra, when Jawbone came in.
"Kristen," his rough voice said. There was a lack of plate in his hands. He wanted to talk.
She looked at him with tired, guilty eyes, "Yeah?" She knew what he wanted to talk about... but if she could live in blissful ignorance for anymore time, she would.
"I think you need help," he whispered, sitting next to her on the bed, "not just me, kid."
Kristen looked out the window, out at her, trying to ignore the whole situation she was in. "I know," she finally whispered sadly. After a minute, she finally said, "I don't wanna feel like this anymore."
"Ok, kiddo," Jawbone whispered, his voice breaking slightly. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I'm here," he whispered into her hair.