Bon, Cal, and Lyrrel stand in the crypts at the bottom of Kellahn’s canyon. Altan’s body lies on the slab of stone, cleaned of the blood and dressed in his finest robes. The burial rites had been completed and the people of the city had already left. The three stayed behind to pay their final respects in private and to visit Daniil and Kylii’s bodies still in the holding graves in the walls of the large cavern.
“It isn’t fair. I can’t do anything except heal cuts and bruises,” Bon says. Her face is still damp from her tears. “What good is that, if people still die?”
Cal wraps his arms around her. “Don’t think about it like that, Bon. You’ve helped a lot of people.”
“But I couldn’t save them.”
Lyrrel places a comforting hand on Bon’s head. “Your magic is still growing. It takes time for Healing magic to fully form. Skara, Tristan, and even Meah didn’t start off powerful. They grew into it. You will, too.”
Reluctantly accepting Lyrrel’s words, Bon stands. “I wish it didn’t take so long to grow stronger.”
The three pray for Altan and place flowers on the floor in front of the Lakeen brothers’ bodies. They leave the burial site, making it to the opening before a powerful gust of wind knocks all three to the ground. Bon screams and Cal grabs her, pulling her close. Loud voices from the city signal the gust affected the entire city and mass confusion fills its citizens.
Lyrrel is the first to leap to his feet. His eyes are shining blue and his expression is blank as his magic reacts to the magic left in the air.
“What was that?” Cal asks, helping Bon back to her feet.
Lyrrel’s eyes fade and an excited smile appears on his face. “That was caused by magic.” The excitement in his voice is odd surrounded by the bodies of the dead.
“What kind of magic?” Bon asks.
“It felt like Meah.”
“But she’s with Klaeon and Ime, at least a month’s journey away. How could she send something that powerful so far?”
A shout from behind makes all three jump. Strange sounds fill the cavern as numerous voices rise from the depths.
“Gods above! I’m blind!”
“Take the cloth from your face, idiot.”
“Oh. That’s better.” A loud thump echoes from inside. “Why can’t I walk?”
“We’ve been dead for a while now. It’s going to take some time to regain our strength…and blood flow.”
Bon, Cal, and Lyrrel turn at the familiar voices and run back into the burial site. They’re shocked when they see the three figures moving in the crypts.
“Daniil, Kylii, Altan?” Cal’s voice is tiny.
The three men stare at the three staring at them. Altan, having only been dead for a few days, stands and looks at his hands. “What happened?”
Kylii crawls across the floor to his brother. Daniil lifts his legs with his hands over the edge of the grave. “If I had to guess, Meah brought us back?”
“Meah did? But we’ve been dead for…how long have we been dead?” Kylii asks, looking at Lyrrel.
“Really? A whole month?”
Altan rubs his sore throat where the wound that killed him is no longer present. “Have any others been brought back?”
“Don’t know. We haven’t checked any where else.”
Screams of shock and elated happiness rise from the deepest parts of the crypts and Altan smiles. “I think that answers my question. Thank the gods we don’t fully bury our dead until after a month.”
“I second that,” Kylii says, climbing up to sit next to his brother.
Altan shakily walks toward Lyrrel, Bon, and Cal. “Help those two up to the Great Hall. We have some work to do.”
“Work?” the brothers whine.
“We have a celebration to prepare for,” Altan answers, beaming. “The war is over.”