They had to wait until the Mana storm had abated to a gentler, if still heavy, drizzle of glowing blue crystals. In the meantime, Rory rested up with the others and informed them of his plan to cremate the bodies of their fallen comrades.

No one raised objections. Dianne and Evelyn didn’t know the funeral preference of the office workers or the hospital staff. Malcolm said Alyssa’s idea of burial pods wasn’t possible under their current circumstances anyway. Apocalypses had a way of putting a halt to a lot of their hopes and dreams.

They had some kerosene from the grocery trip and the fallen trees would provide enough wood to form pyres. Miles offered to light the fires with his Sigil, though he seemed recalcitrant. When told he didn’t have to be the one setting the dead alight, he disagreed, determined to do his part.

It was surprisingly difficult to get the corpses positioned on the pyres correctly. None of them had any experience with the grim business, and a few of them broke down entirely during the process.

Rory had asked Evelyn if she wanted to offer the others the chance to talk with their deceased loved ones using her Sigil of Resurrection. She had declined, saying that the Sigil wouldn’t really help with that. Rory hadn’t had the time to ask for elaborations.

Darcy had finally learned that her mom wasn’t coming back, and Viv was struggling to soothe her. The girl’s cries were shrill from within the main hall. Malcolm couldn’t help. He was sprawled over his wife’s shrouded body, sobbing his eyes out. Jerome was trying to hide his tears in one corner, Diane had forgone attending the funeral altogether, and Evelyn was sobbing near Jesse’s pyre.

“It’s time,” Rory said.

He gave them a few moments to say their final goodbyes. Rory walked around the pyres. Many of the fallen were newer members of their group, people who hadn’t had their Sigils for long, nor had much, if any, experience fighting monsters. It was easy to see how they had died.

But it hurt all the same. Rory could so easily imagine Alex lying upon one of the same pyres, deathly pale and forever unseeing. What he wouldn’t give to see his child again, but if it meant they were still alive somewhere, then so be it.

Yet, he couldn’t find it in him to cry. It was as though his tears had dried up. Even when he passed by Alyssa’s body, imagining how much her little Darcy would suffer without her mom, or when he walked past Jesse whose new lease at life, where she could have used her skills to such great use, had been cut so tragically short. Rory couldn’t muster his tears.

For whenever the sadness threatened to overwhelm him, burning anger came in hot on its heels to enrage his very soul.

“Miles,” he called. “It’s time.”

Allen and Trish pulled Malcolm away from clutching at his dead wife. Jerome, Samson, and the other survivors who weren’t debilitated by their injuries gathered closer.

Evelyn trudged past Rory, pausing for a moment. “Are you going to say a few words?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and moved on. Rory looked on, his heart finally starting to break when he saw her somehow hunching over a little as though to ward off a blow. He turned his back to the rest of them.

“We’ve lost a lot of friends today,” Rory said. His eyes trailed over Jesse and Alyssa. “Family, loved ones, good people all. They died in a horrific assault by the Thunderclaw Knight, and through their sacrifice, we were able to defeat the monster. We survived, thanks to them. There will never be a moment where we forget what they gave to us, what they meant to us.”

Rory’s voice was starting to fail him. Maybe it was a sign that he needed to keep it short and sweet. To the point.

He swallowed down the growing lump in his throat and nodded at Miles. The younger man stepped forward and used his Sigil of Stormfire to light up the pyres. At least the dead received a stunning send off. The blue flames that leapt on the pyres shone bright like starlight, their glow shading the whole area cerulean. It was unearthly and eerie, but dreadfully beautiful.

They stood still in sombre, respectful, grieving silence for a long while as the fires grew brighter and hotter. Memories assaulted Rory, the flames seeming to dance and reflect every vision of everyone he’d known who had passed away earlier in the day.

But the Mana storm started picking up again after a while, and they slowly began heading back inside. The more practical minded among them had already started preparing for a very late lunch, and it wasn’t long before they had settled down to try to shovel some food into their mouths.

Rory, like many of the others, found that he didn’t have much of an appetite. So instead, he decided to divest the day’s events by figuring out the future.

“What would you recommend in this situation?” Rory asked Arelland frankly when the elf proclaimed it was time for him to leave.

“Right this moment?” Arelland took a moment to consider his next words. “I would focus on recovery. Your people have been beaten down and need to be built up again. Hope must be instilled in their hearts once more. The future is yours to claim, still, despite the setback. Something to make them remember that would be essential.”

“That’s true. But I was thinking of practical terms.”

Rory looked around. They had met in the courtyard, the pyres still burning blue. The azure light made Arelland’s mech suit look a lot more futuristic than normal.

“Ah, I see.” The elf followed the trail of Rory’s eyes and checked the damages. “I would suggest keeping up your defences and your reconnaissance. Keep up patrols, keep practicing with your Sigils, and remain vigilant. The Safe Zone will help tremendously, but it is not a guarantee of safety from all danger.”

“Yes, I suspected as much.”

“If you want more, you may want to set up additional measures of defence,” Arelland added, perhaps noticing the hint of dissatisfaction in Rory’s voice. “The dwarves are excellent at such preparations.”

“Such as the dwarf we met? Would he be willing to help us that way without us having formed any official deals yet? Can we form official deals before you all approve of us?”

“Well, Delic isn’t the only dwarf in the area.”

Rory’s eyes widened a little. “Is that so? Do you mind contacting these other dwarves for us, then?”

Arelland nodded. “I will put in a word when I can. Establishing connections and a partnership will be up to you, however. It would be improper for the others to see how much I already favour you, and that wouldn’t help your cause.”

“True.” Rory sighed. “But that brings me to the next topic of contention. We need to make things for all of you, correct? To win your approval?” After Arelland nodded, Rory continued. “To do that, we’d need to figure out what exactly would work the best for each of you. So, frankly speaking, what would you ideally want, Arelland?”

The elf actually laughed. “There is actually quite a long list of things I want.”

“Care to share some?”

“I do not think such a list would benefit you at all.” The gears in his suit whirred as he looked down. “I would like to be airier inside. At the same time, I’d like it if we could advance the nutrient patches so that I need to waste less time eating and drinking. Some of the later suits have miniature thrusters to improve directionality, and I need that upgrade.”

“Is everything about your mech suit?”

“Not at all. I have the occasional flare in my lower back that I’d like to be rid of. One of my paintings is peeling at the edges so I’d like to transition it into a glass-morph at some point, but they’re expensive. They’ve also cut down on the chilled flying fox orbit juice, and I desperately wish the state of that industry improves soon.”

Rory blinked at the elf. There had to be a lot going on at the Otherworlder base that he wasn’t aware of. “Do you think I could ever visit Dwellmont? Uh, what did you call it, now? Sanctuary?”

“Sanctorum. And at the moment, you would be in grave danger. They do not know you, and you do not have any official approvals yet. There are many Otherworlders who would be happy to see you and your kind die simply because it pleases to see your kind suffering. But perhaps one day, yes.”

“The day I get your recognition letter.”

Rory didn’t add that it defeated the purpose of him visiting in the first place. But it was true. Trying to get close to the Otherworlders’ Sanctorum would be a foolish endeavour at the current point in time.

“And the others?” Rory asked. “What do they want?”

“You will receive much the same answers, I am afraid. Our wants aren’t so simple.”

“I meant, what do you think they want most that I can provide?”

“Hmm.”

Arelland considered for a moment. Rory wondered how much he knew his fellow Otherworlders. It was strange for him to see so many different races cooperating without trouble. He wasn’t sure how well things were working at Mirrorend with so many different kinds of people all stuffed into one town.

That brought the other concern of getting a letter of recognition from Mirrorend.

“I realize that I do not know enough about my… colleagues to help you,” Arelland said, a little note of apology in his voice.

“Figures,” Rory muttered. “Can’t make things too easy.”

“Delic is very communal. He has a predilection of checking up on his fellow dwarves, so you may have more luck with the aforementioned comrades of his, if you establish communication with them. Urg likes to… watch things unfold is the best way I can put it. He is an observer of all things. Severliss is an utter mystery to me as well, unfortunately.”

Rory nodded. “One last thing. We also need a letter of recognition from the people in Mirrorend.”

Arelland stiffened. “I certainly can’t help you there.”

“Well… you can not kill anyone who approaches the place right off the bat, right?”

A sudden tension filled the air. Rory didn’t back down from it. Arelland himself had said he didn’t seek to end every Homeworlder he came across. There was nothing to be afraid of.

“I am unfortunately doing a lot to help you as is,” Arelland said. “If it is seen that I am abstaining from my very duties, it will help none of us.”

“I understand.” Rory did his best to be patient. “But in the interest in giving a good-enough impression to the Homeworlders you all are so desperate to kill, I may need to help them as well. I’m just saying that when I do, I don’t want you Otherworlders as taking it like I’m throwing my lot in with them. I’m not picking any sides in your war.”

Arelland’s mask whizzed as he sighed. “I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you. That’s all I really ask, and I appreciate all that you’re doing already.”

The elf nodded tightly. They were in a precarious position, trying to set up what they needed to. That meant doing things not everyone was going to agree with. But it wasn’t as though they had much choice.

“I believe it’s time I took my leave,” Arelland said.

Rory nodded. “Thank you, again.”

“Farewell, Rory. Remember to not lose hope, even when things look as… difficult as they do now.”

“I will. And I’ll make sure the others do too.”

Arelland waved and headed out, passing through the field of debris with silky smoothness.

Rory looked back. Some of the people were moving in the hall, beginning to take care of little things like cleaning up patches of blood or clearing the rubble from the hall. Rory grimaced. The broken hall. As with the broken tower, the broken grounds, and their broken spirit.

But standing and staring wasn’t about to mend any of that. It was time to get started on the difficult work.