Rows of headstones stretched across the gentle slope of the hill, gray and white and black, their inscriptions worn smooth by years of wind and rain.
Edward's metal legs made soft clicking sounds as he walked. The prosthetics still didn't fit right, they were hastily made after all.
"Sigh."
He'd been adjusting the straps for twenty minutes, tightening, loosening, tightening again, searching for some configuration that would make them feel like something other than foreign objects bolted to what remained of his thighs.
The joints caught at odd angles, the sockets rubbed against what remained of his thighs, and every movement sent a dull ache radiating up through his spine.
"Stupid legs."
He carried a small bouquet of white lilies. The flowers were already beginning to wilt at the edges, their petals browning slightly, but he didn't think Dominic would have minded.
Lucy walked beside him.
Her dark blue hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame a face that had grown thin over the past weeks. Her crimson eyes were fixed on him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
Her empty sleeve swayed with each step, the fabric pinned up neatly at the shoulder.
She'd refused the prosthetic again, had shaken her head when the doctors offered, had turned her face to the wall and said nothing. Her remaining hand hung at her side, fingers slightly curled, like she was holding onto something only she could see.
She hadn't spoken since they'd left the Academy.
That wasn't unusual. Lucy had always been quieter than the others, always more comfortable listening than speaking. But this silence was different.
They found the grave at the edge of the cemetery, near a small copse of cherry trees that hadn't yet bloomed.
The headstone was simple, unadorned, the kind used for witches whose families had disowned them. No flowers. No photographs. No personal effects. Just a name, carved in neat, precise letters.
DOMINIC WALKER
Lucy stopped walking.
"I still can't believe that he's actually gone, it was just like yesterday. I can't believe that he's…I can't see him anymore."
Edward stood beside her, the lilies clutched in his hands, his dark eyes fixed on the headstone. The morning light was thin and gray, filtering through the bare branches of the cherry trees, casting long shadows across the grass.
After a long moment, Lucy knelt.
She reached out with her remaining hand and touched the headstone, her fingers tracing the carved letters with a gentleness that made Edward's chest ache.
"He wouldn't have liked this," she said quietly.
Edward blinked.
"The grave," she continued. "It's too plain and boring, he would've wanted something more, something more extravagant, a little bit more flair, not this, not this piece of rock with his name engraved on it."
"He would have wanted a throne," Edward said.
Lucy's lips twitched. Just slightly. Just enough. "I doubt that he was that self absorbed. But at least he would want his name in gold letters." Her hand pressed flat against the stone, her palm covering the name. "He was so infuriating. He never took anything seriously. Not the family. Not..."
She stopped. Swallowed.
"Not me," she finished quietly. "He never took me seriously."
Edward set the lilies down at the base of the headstone. The white petals caught the gray light and held it, the only spot of color in the monochrome landscape. "Tell me about it."
Lucy shook her head. "I was just... his little sister. The one who followed him around like a little puppy, his shadow. The one who begged him to come back. The one who thought that if I just believed hard enough, if I just hoped hard enough, I could save him."
Her voice cracked. "I can't believe that this world could be so cruel, why couldn't, why couldn't he just live? What would he have done to the universe that they had to kill him off?"
"The thing that killed him wasn't Dominic," Edward said quietly. "It was his reincarnation. Whatever was inside him, that wasn't your brother."
"I know." Lucy's hand withdrew from the headstone, falling back to her side. "I know that. I've told myself that a hundred times. A thousand times. But it doesn't change anything. He's still dead. Seraphina's still dead. And I'm still here, with one arm and nothing to show for it."
The silence stretched between them. A bird called somewhere in the distance, three notes, descending, like a question that would never be answered.
". . .Do you ever think about her?"
Edward was quiet for a moment. "Which her?"
"Seraphina."
The name hung in the air between them. It always did, these days. A ghost that had taken up residence in every room they occupied, every silence they shared.
"Every day," he said.
Lucy nodded slowly.
"I used to believe," Lucy said quietly, "that if I just tried hard enough, I could make things better. That if I just believed in people, they would eventually prove me right. That there was good in everyone, that I could change them somehow, that a flicker of care was present inside everyone's soul."
She shook her head. "But Sarah wasn't good. Dominic's reincarnation wasn't good. They were just... evil. Pure, simple evil. And I couldn't see it. I didn't want to see it."
"You saw what you wanted to see," Edward said. "We all did."
"Did you?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "No. I saw what was there. I just... didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to believe that Dominic could do those things. Didn't want to believe that Sarah was using us. Didn't want to believe that I was just... standing there. Watching. Doing nothing."
"His eyes," Lucy whispered. "I thought him going ballistic when his eyes turned blue was some kind of power boost, I thought he was always strong enough, strong enough to control him—" Her voice broke. "I still thought I could reach him. I still thought that if I just said the right words, if I just loved him enough, he would come back."
"You did reach him. At the end. He came back because of you."
"It wasn't me." Her remaining hand curled into a fist. "He didn't come back because of me, that was his reincarnation acting, I knew it, I knew it and I still tried to believe it was him. But my words didn't get through, nothing I did ever got through. The only person that managed to get something out of him was Seraphina."
Edward stared at her.
Lucy looked at him. Her crimson eyes, still dull, still hollow, flickered with something that might have been recognition. "You loved her."
"Did everyone know?"
"Probably." Her posture was sagging with an exhaustion that went deeper than sleep. "I don't think you were being very subtle."
"No." His lips twitched. "I suppose I wasn't."
"She loved Dominic."
"She loved everyone." Edward's voice was flat. "That's the worst part. She loved everyone and no one loved her the same way. Not even me. I loved the idea of being with her. I was lonely, I thought I was the main character in a romance movie, I was just an afterthought, an obstacle, I was just playing the role of Rosaline."
Lucy was quiet for a long moment. The fluorescent lights hummed. The heart monitor beeped. The gray light through the window shifted slightly, clouds moving across a sun they couldn't see.
"That's not true," she said finally. "You loved her. Really loved her. I saw it. Every time you looked at her, every time you watched her when you thought no one was watching you."
Edward looked down at his metal legs. The straps were still too loose. He didn't fix them.
"She used to talk about you," Lucy said.
Edward's head snapped up. "What?"
"Seraphina. Before Dominic. Before all of it. She used to talk about the quiet servant with the maroon hair who always sat in the back of the library. She said you looked lonely. She said she wanted to talk to you, but she didn't know how."
". . ."
"She never did say anything."
Edward stared at her.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're not alone."
"Dominic is dead."
"I know."
"Seraphina is dead."
It wasn't a question.
I didn't want to get in their way anyways." He looked down at the lilies, at the white petals beginning to brown at the edges. "I didn't. Because he was my friend. Because despite everything, despite my insecurities, despite his stupid arrogance, he really did care... he was my friend. And I couldn't hate him. Even with the way he acted."
Lucy was silent for a long moment.
The wind picked up, rustling the bare branches of the cherry trees. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed, its engine a low hum that faded as quickly as it came. The city continued its endless rhythm, indifferent to the two figures standing in the cemetery, indifferent to the weight of grief that pressed down on them.
"I don't know what to do now," Lucy said quietly. "I've spent my whole life believing that things could get better, that's what the stories I read told me. That if I just tried hard enough, if I just hoped hard enough, I could bring change in people. " She shook her head. "Now I don't know anymore. I really don't think that people can change so easily."
"Good."
She looked at him.
"Look what happened," Edward said. His voice was flat, but there was something underneath it now. Something almost like conviction. "I think that every loss we have is a lesson."
"I miss my arm," Lucy said quietly.
". . ."
"I miss my brother. I miss Seraphina. I miss the way things were before, when I still believed I could save everyone. When I thought that hope was enough. I didn't know that Lady Bleu could be so cruel."
"The Primordials really are cruel."
Her crimson eyes met his. "I don't think….I don't think that hope is enough."