I stood at the edge, at the precipice, in a place I hadn't thought to see again so soon. It brought me no joy to come home, no pleasure at seeing the place where I'd first entered this world again. It sprawled out below me, the valley, the place where the village was, unseen due to the high trees and vines.

The trip here had been easy enough, with the last of the Wester forces in full flight back to their homeland or being hunted like the dogs they were there were few impediments. Of course, there were few places to stop as well, with most of the villages in this tract of land being destroyed, little left but ruins if even those could be found.

Idly I wondered if there would be some kind of population boom, or moving out of the city. A lot of older elves didn't like being kept under the heel of their elders, and could probably be convinced to establish new villages. I'd even seen that one fighting over resources, if both of those factions had survived I couldn't imagine that one or the other wouldn't just leave now, taking one of the large sections of now vacant territory.

Those thoughts managed to occupy my thoughts as we walked down the paths that two of us knew like the back of our hands. Isha was beside me, silent, for she'd been here when Cino arrived. The other two members of our party were behind a bit, keeping their eyes peeled.

As the village came into view I knew there was nothing here for us. I'd hoped that someone had survived, some others had made it out, but what I saw told me there were none here. There'd been a part of me that had hoped that one of the boys I'd grown up with were hiding somewhere, that Ninden would pop out of some bush with little Olond in tow, having managed to find a hole to crawl into while they destroyed everything.

The houses were destroyed overgrown, perhaps that might have been overlooked, the forest was always making its inroads after all, and might have been ignored if someone wanted to remain unseen. The bodies however wouldn't have been. There weren't many, with the time elapsed since they'd destroyed this place so long there wasn't a lot left, but a few bones here and there, a skull sitting near the fire-pit that we'd all gathered around so many times. None of our people would have left those be had they known, had they come back home even after the Westers had left.

Isha sat down by the fire-pit and began to weep Jina comforting her as best she could.

“Anything I can do boss?” Chien asked, seeming unsure of where he should be right now.

“Help me gather the bodies if you can. Keep them together and mark where they came from. No real hope of knowing who was who, but it's something.”

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I spent a moment or two with the woman I loved, letting her cry onto my shoulder before I kissed her head and got to work. Everyone dealt with grief differently, myself included, and I knew what would help. I would work, something physical, something hard and sweat inducing, that would be better than crying, better than letting myself sink into despair. Thinking didn't appeal at the moment, nor did collapsing, that would only make me feel helpless.

My first home on this world was falling apart. It had been ransacked, ripped apart and scattered. That stung, but it was clear why. There had been copper here, my father had worked it, known how it was made, had some. They'd wanted that when they came through, to get it and use it. With Cala's hatred towards me I didn't delude myself that either of my parents were alive. They'd known where I was and could have come as easily as Isha and Atie had, that neither did told me that I'd never see them alive again.

I thought I'd made my peace with the grief of losing my parents, but apparently not, for my heart ached as I moved through the remnants of my old home, looking for anything salvageable. There wasn't much, but I did manage to find an old digging stick, not something anyone really liked, but something of use. There wasn't a scrap of metal left, not a copper bead, not a tool, all of that thoroughly raided.

That done I found one of the more isolated spots in the ruined village and began to dig. The graves didn't' need to be too deep, but it didn't feel right leaving any bones that were left to the weather and whatever animals might wander in after we left. No, they would have a burial, perhaps not the proper one they'd have gotten, but something, something that we could do.

It helped that this action was mindless. I could have used magic to make graves in an instant, carve them from the earth without breaking so much as a sweat. This felt better though, more natural, right. This was the way things should be.

“How is Isha?” I asked, seeing the barest bit of aura bleeding into the world around me as Jina approached.

“She would be better if you spent some time with her, but I understand,” she answered, voice calm.

“I need to do this. We'll rest here tonight and in the morning we can head to the cave, that's what you're after after all isn't it?” I tried, but failed to keep the barest hint of anger from my voice. She wasn't like Chien, who was here to help, she had her own reasons for joining us.

“Justin, you may think me cold, and perhaps I am, but I've seen this so many times. After seeing everything, it gets harder and harder to feel things the same way. It... builds up, only gushing out at times. You're burying those you care for? I've done that a thousand times. Losing friends? I've had hundreds I've put in the ground. When you've seen everything, it is hard to feel it again, but I am trying.”

I turned to her and walked forward, sweat and soil coating me head to toe.

“You have seen nothing,” I informed her. “I have seen things you can't even imagine, lost more than you can comprehend, suffered in ways you have never known.”

There was a spark of fear in her eyes, an understanding. She'd seen what I could do when I wanted, and knew that those words were true, but there was more, kindness buried under all the time and roughness she so often displayed.

“I believe you,” she said. “And yet you are still so young.” She wrapped her arms around me, patting my back gently like an old friend. “Still so very young child. I can see it in you, the lack of years. Perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps one day you won't become like me, or like my grandfather was. Maybe that mind of yours will keep you feeling, but feeling hurts.”

That moment I seared into my memory, no matter how much it hurt I needed to remember to not drift away from my emotions. If I suffered for centuries, then so be it, but I needed to feel, feeling kept me going, kept me moving towards something. Without it I knew that I would just stop, stop growing.

That evening we held the burial. We couldn't bury them with their favorite things, nor say too much, since it was impossible to tell who was who, no, it was a more quiet affair. Afterwards I gathered up some flowers and the girls set them to growing over the graves. The roots would keep them in place, giving some new life while marking the location and keeping animals away. It also felt right, graves should have flowers in my opinion.