I nearly collapsed when the base of the bed he lay on came into view. It was covered in white cloth that shimmered with a pale effervescence and had a green border of ivy and leaves that delicately wove along the edge. My eyes slowly moved up to Danst’s feet, covered in smooth layers of light gray cloth that appeared to be as soft as flower petals. A white robe with silver trim stretched to his mid-calf, bound at his waist with a silver clasp adorned with pearls.
His hands rested on his stomach, one on top of the other. He appeared as though he slept. His jaw was relaxed and smooth, the battle long gone from his face. His green eyes hid beyond the lids that made his eyebrows more pronounced. And above them, a silver band encircled his forehead with his stringy brown hair woven through.
My heart took on the weight of what everyone else already knew. Danst was gone. I was too late. I approached his side, resting my hand on his, the warmth gone from his pale skin. I slapped a tear that fell down my cheek. My heart broke into so many pieces. Those fragments would forever miss his presence. Miss his laughter and the warmth in his smile. The way he showed patience when he first taught me to fight, the care and protection he gave me when he saved me so many years ago. He shouldn’t have needed to give his life.
A movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Joe’n approached, stopping at Danst’s head. She peered down at him, the corners of her lips turned down, which caused me to question her sadness for his loss of life. Her eyes rose to mine, and as if she heard my thoughts she said, “Danst was my grandson.”
Her words held no disgrace, no hate. I almost expected a murmur of shock through the crowd. How had I not known this? How could I have possibly been the last to learn this?
“As is custom with my people, Danst will be sent to his next life in our tradition. He meant a lot to you, as you did him. I’m giving you the chance to send him on his final journey.”
I stared for a long moment, processing her words. She spoke them with grace and calm, though clearly torn about losing her grandson. The whites of her eyes were red. Even the lower lid was puffy, as though she had been crying until she approached. Realizing she waited for a response, I numbly nodded my head. I removed my hand from Danst’s, leaving part of me behind with him.
“Relena, I need you to follow me, alone. This is a private ceremony. You may join your friends after the send-off.”
I nodded and glanced toward Marren at the back of the crowd. His voice echoed into my mind, Go, I’ll be waiting for you.
I know.
Gvgeyu.
You too.
I wanted to experience the emotion that would fill me with Marren’s words. Instead, emptiness and lifelessness filled me. Joe’n turned then moved down a dark path in between some trees and stop as she waited for me to follow. The four elves picked up the bed Danst lay on, waiting to carry him. I quickly followed behind the Ancient, sensing the others in close proximity with Danst.
***
I was wrong when I thought Danst lay on a bed. He lay on a raft. A small one built to accommodate him to his next journey. I understood nothing of the ways of the elves, of which Joe’n realized, and quietly told me of the ceremony. This sort of funeral was given only to those who deserved the highest honor. Danst gave his life protecting others and made difficult decisions to protect his people and his home. She told him long ago that because he was half human, he would have to prove himself to her. She didn’t realize what she asked of him at the time and wished she had shown him her affections. This was her way of remedying that. Not only was this the highest honor she could bestow on her grandson, he was of the Ancient bloodline. It was his birthright.
Hearing the emotion in the words Joe’n spoke pulled at my heart. I thought she outcaste him because he didn’t fit in with the rest of the full-blooded elves. Being new to this realm had given me a fresh perspective on things. His life wasn’t the way it was because he was on the outside, but because he had to prove himself worthy of his lineage. Just like I had, and likely still will have, to prove I’m worthy of Marren’s love—regardless of our heart song.
The races of this world had taken extreme measures to protect themselves and in doing so had procured such high levels of fear and suspicion over outsiders. I understood why they were so protective over themselves. Being different created a risk the races of the immortal realm had to be leery of in order to extend their lives and protect those they loved. A means of survival.
We approached the head of the river, flowing away from us toward the horizon. Where the river ended, no one knew. The living wasn’t meant to know. Only the dead could see, and even then they had to be worthy of what waited at the other side.