I watched someone dear to me walk through Death's door

And I know if I'm lucky I'll watch seven more.

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.

The old Redlander shanty swung in my head as I walked through the cemetery of the Silent Peaks. My mother wasn't here; her frozen corpse was probably broken into dirt by now. My father was long gone; he'd been turned to dust by a rift long ago.

But I still had their memories, and maybe that was enough.

I watered my lawn with my friends and my foes

They won't hold it against me; that's just how it goes.

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.

The Redlands were landlocked, and yet the sea shanty was an unofficial national anthem for the war-torn, fertile plains. It was a simple joke, one I'd understood even as a child.

There'd been enough blood spilled here that we counted as an honorary ocean.

This coming spring harvest we'll do it again

From the first bitter dawn to the pitiful end.

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.

I came to the edge of the cemetery, where the gently falling snow was still burned away by fresh bouquets of heatflowers. Even here, in the distant mountain range that was so far from my childhood home, the same tenets of death still held. The violence of the Redlands had finally spilled into the Silent Peaks, and claimed the lives of civilians and Academy students alike.

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.

I fished in my pocket for the worn wooden cup I'd stolen from the Academy cafetaria. It wasn't from the Redlands, but neither were most of the people who died there. Silently, I held up the glass, toasting no-one.

A second cup clinked against mine.

Lucet's tousled brown hair swept over her pale face like a curtain, but I could tell she had her own anthem resonating in her soul.

We walked together through the cemetery, not aiming to get anywhere except away from our thoughts. Eventually, dawn broke, and as the shadows of the night were finally chased away in full, I cleared my throat and spoke.

"It was my parents," I said. "Who I was thinking of."

"A girl I used to date," Lucet replied.

We reached the gate of the cemetery. It was closed.

"They're not gone," I said. "Their memories still live on."

Lucet smiled, a broken, rueful thing, and said, "I know."

She didn't. Not in the way I meant it. But nobody could know, not even my closest friend.

"I'll see you in class," I said, opening the gate.

Lucet nodded, her sorrowful eyes shining as she passed through the gate.

I took one last look at the resting place of the dead.

Then I turned away from them, letting the gate swing shut behind me.

There was still work to do in the lands of the living.