Two days after the Jubilee

Halari rolled up to the opening of her garage, then hopped off her trawler and set about to clean it, unlooping a pressure hose from the nearby spout. The front was covered in green-black sludge, a puddle of which she’d rolled over in her latest looting excursion into the city. That had been successful at least and her storage compartment was full to the brim. Her teammates also boasted similar loads; they really were getting efficient at searching the city and spotting hiding places for random loot.

A burst of water tore off a chunk of the dried gunk and melted it into a sizzling liquid that steamed lightly.

Ugh, what is that? Halari scrunched her nose as a rank odor wafted up from the steam. The scent lingered even after the water, now tinted a sick color like vomit, flowed into the nearest drain to be cleaned and recycled by the Great Tanks. It took the better part of half an hour to get the metal of her baby glimmering once again.

“Looks good, Hala,” Viria said, pulling up to her on her own ATV. “I was worried that stuff was gonna stick.”

“I was more worried that it might eat through the metal,” Halari said, spraying the stone clean of the nasty chemical until it was all gone. “We got a good haul today. You going to unload at the Supply Department?”

“Yeah, I’ll head over,” Viria said. But she didn’t move, hovering like she did when she had something else to say. Halari waited while she wiped down her vehicle. “You should go tell Callan you’re back.”

“I’m planning on it,” Halari said. Even though her back was turned, she could hear that smug smirk on her sister’s face. “Just gonna clean up first.”

“Did y’all like...?” Viria trailed off, probably not wanting to breach a potentially sensitive subject. Nobody ever said her sister was emotionally unaware.

But it wasn’t like at all, or so Halari thought. Sure, there hadn’t been another sweet moment in a couple of days, and sure, Callan seemed to be a little more withdrawn than usual, but there was a good reason. Probably. She just didn’t know what it was.

Ok, maybe it’s bothering me a little more than I thought. “We had a moment during the party,” Halari said, picking off a stubborn chunk of gunk that the hose had failed to clean, “but we haven’t had another, or even talked about it. So...”

“Men...” Viria huffed. Her pale gold curls shimmered as she shook her head in annoyance. “I can’t believe even a Blessed Flame is like that. You’ll probably need to force it out of him.”

“Don’t worry, Viri,” Halari said, rising and dusting herself off. “It’ll be alright. Go unload and I'll meet you back home for dinner.”

“You got it,” she chirped. “Good luck.” She waved goodbye and drove off.

Halari reorganized her garage, deciding that the state of it was suddenly very interesting. Halfway through packing the wrenches into a new drawer, she paused and sighed.

Damnation, she thought, standing sharply and moving with purpose towards the Temple; it was definitely going to bug her, and this kind of drama wasn’t worth the wasted time.

She found Callan in the Command Center stooped over a map with Norio and a trio of his merchant employees. She came up beside him, sidling close enough to feel the heat he generated. He gave her a tight, but warm grin in greeting.

That’s not exactly the expression I was hoping for. Still, she pressed closer to his side and braced her palms on the table to study the map before them.

“Now, O Great One,” Norio continued, drumming his fingers on the surface, “the people of the Blossom far to the south might be worth reaching out to. Their crimsand is rumored to have lots of potential agricultural value.”

“What exactly is crimsand?” Callan crossed his arms, skepticism written on his brow.

“According to my own late mentor’s stories,” Norio said, making the gesture over his eyes to respect the dead, “the people of the Blossom grow most of their crops on it. With our biofoam stores slowly but steadily approaching their last legs, we could use an alternative source of nutrition.”

“Are they also willing to deal in seed?” Callan asked. He arched a brow at Norio. “I’d like for the Quarry to move away from the ashbud standard.”

“They might be convinced.” Norio scratched his wobbly belly. “Maybe if you were to deal with them personally, Great Flame. The swampmen are very religious and if you were to show them some divine lightning…” The merchant nodded softly; eyes distant as he lost himself in whatever scams he was planning. “Discounts. Big discounts.”

Halari snorted a laugh and shook her head. Good ol’ reliable Norio, always looking to pinch off more than he deserved. She met Callan’s eyes and cocked her head toward the direction of his office with a meaningful look. He would get it.

“I’m not using the blessings of Melokon to scare our neighbors, Trade Master,” Callan said. “I will deal with them personally if need be though. Now, let’s continue this tomorrow. Good work all.” He waved them a dismissal and Norio waddled out with his employees.

“Do you have a minute?” Halari asked. She didn’t know what to make of the expression on his face. It didn’t worry her, but the way he looked at her struck somewhere between affection and… guilt.

What is he thinking in there? Halari wondered. What was there to be guilty about?

“For you, always.” His smile was soft at least, but that strange sorrow in his eyes set her on edge. He led her upstairs and they moved inside together.

He sat on the desk as she closed the door behind them. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted anybody else to hear.

“So…” she began, turning to him. Now, he wasn’t looking at her at all, as if he knew what this was about and whatever shame he was feeling had pushed its way to the forefront of his attitude. “We kissed. It’s been a couple days and we haven’t talked about it or kissed again. So I have to ask...” She stepped closer to him. “Do you regret kissing me?”

“No!” Callan said firmly, almost sharp with his tone, but he still didn’t look at her. “No, it’s not like that at all. I can’t imagine a man on the planet who would regret kissing you.”

“Then what is it?” Halari asked. “It was a really good kiss, Callan, so I don’t understand the issue. What’s the problem?”

Callan sighed, then splayed his right-hand fingers out to her. He seemed especially ashamed of the display. She saw the ruby-set ring on his third finger, the one she always figured was an icon of his old reign. Now, though, not so much since it appeared to be the focus of his gesture.

“Does that... mean something?” Halari asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Callan narrowed his eyes like he was just realizing something important. “I guess I didn’t think about how marriage symbols might change in two-thousand years.”

Marriage symbols? The full weight of his words hit her like a punch to the gut. “You were married,” she whispered.

“I was,” he said, voice trembling. “And she’s… still down there. In that tomb where they left us.”

Those were his wife’s bones, Halari realized, recalling the skull she’d found in the Vault. She felt numb, but more than that she felt sad. Not for herself, but for the man so clearly in agony before her.

“So,” Callan continued, staring at the ring like it was the only thing in the room, “after I kissed you, I couldn’t escape the realization that it’s been almost two months and I still haven’t laid my wife to rest.”

Halari’s heart clenched when his head fell, and his shoulders sagged. Grief wrapped him like a death shroud. She walked up to him and reached out to cup his cheek and pull his face up to look at her.

“Callan.” He looked like he was barely holding himself together. “You have to lay her to rest. Not for me. Not for us. She deserves to be at peace.”

Something new dripped into Callan’s draconic eyes.

Something she’d rarely seen in him before, and it was worse than the grief in its own way.

Terror.

“I can’t go back down there,” Callan whispered. He tensed up, coiling like a serpent, pulling away from her in a panicked effort to escape the dark and isolation. “I can’t go back down there.”

“I’ll go with you.” She followed him, pushing close, not letting him go to lose himself in fear. It had been a while since they’d even mentioned that horrible place, but its scars were still so deep in his soul. “You won’t be alone, I promise. And it doesn’t have to be today.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“No.” Callan held to her arms, took a deep breath, then nodded. “It has to be today. It’s been too long as is.”

“I’ll go get some people we know and trust,” Halari offered, “to help.”

“Ok,” Callan said. He stood and shook himself. “I can meet you at the Temple’s gate.”

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Halari led Viria, Captain Dalvo, and a couple of his most trusted men to the Temple twenty minutes later. Her sister had volunteered, solemnly eager to help the man who made her sister happy, even if the task was such a grave one.

The others were convinced to help their new king easily enough. Captain Dalvo also had offered his services freely and walked like he was in a vigil for the wife of his Blessed Flame. Out of respect, he was in uniform despite it being his day off.

“Is he ok?” Viria asked. When Halari had explained the situation, her sister had teared up. This clearly was not at all what she’d expected to come of the day.

“No, not really.” Halari shook her head. “It’s his wife. He’ll need time to mourn.”

“Are you ok?” Viria looked concerned for her, but Halari just felt bad for Callan.

“I just want to help him,” Halari said. “For his sake and hers.”

They turned a corner and the Temple came into view like a dark monolith looming over them. It felt more ominous than it normally would.

She saw Callan staring up at it near the front door.

“Hey.” Halari walked up and took his hand gently. “Are you ready?” His fear was tangible; she could feel it in the way his fingers almost crushed hers. She saw it in his clenched jaw and his frozen focus on the building, like it was the wide maw of a monster about to come down on him.

“It really doesn’t have to be today,” Halari said softly, giving his hand a couple of reassuring squeezes. “We can do this whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll never be brave enough to do it,” Callan said, “if it’s not today. Right this hour. With you.” He began to walk forward, keeping a tight grip on her hand as if letting go would extinguish the current flame of his courage.

They were greeted inside by the Melokide priests, who bowed deeply as always, like the proximity of the floor indicated the intensity of their piety.

“Great Flame,” Kelot greeted. “How may we humbly be of service to you today?”

“Open the elevator,” Callan ordered, “to the Vault.”

Kelot looked up in surprise. “The Vault?” he asked.

“There’s something I must do down there,” Callan said. “Open it.”

“Right away, Blessed One.” Kelot hurriedly gestured for his followers to do as commanded. The same goon she had drugged for the access that fateful night, glaring blatantly at her with a mean side eye, turned the key and hit the button.

The lift slid open.

Halari felt Callan freeze at her side, just for a moment, before squeezing her hand once for strength and continuing on. It was a tight fit with six people, but they all shuffled in around her and Callan enough for the doors to close.

Nobody said a word on the way down; the only noise was the whirring, shifting grind of the lift cables taking them into the empty stomach of the world.

Callan started trembling, faint enough that she only noticed because she was touching him. The elevator car jerked to a stop at the bottom of its shaft and Halari squeezed his hand even tighter. The hallway stretched forward from the lift and there, at the end of the line, the entrance of the Vault stood like a dark, gaping wound in reality itself.

As if in a trance, Callan started walking towards it. Each step was heavy and clumsy like his feet were made of the heaviest stone.

He’s terrified. Halari held him tightly, moving with him down the metal path. Who wouldn’t be? At the threshold of the Vault entrance, she turned to Viria and gestured for a lightbar. The illumination seemed to comfort Callan enough that his trembling eased.

“I’m here,” Halari said. “I’m right here. You’ll never be trapped in here ever again, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Callan stepped into the Vault.

Halari followed with the light bar, making the void of the prison recede as they progressed. Her fingers were laced tightly with Callan’s, so when his hand clenched and he froze, she knew he had spotted why they were there.

The skull appeared in full one step later.

Callan’s breathing hitched, then came out in ragged pants. He released her hand, then knelt down and picked up the bone in both hands, cupping it like a bowl.

“Hello, my love,” he choked out through gasps. “I’m so sorry I left you down here…”

Halari stepped back, feeling that this intimate moment was not for her to be a part of, so she drifted over to Viria and the others.

“Gather the rest,” she murmured. “Be gentle and show respect.”

Viria and Dalvo nodded with whispers of agreement, then drifted into the Vault to pick up the rest of the bones. The officer found the first piece, what looked like a charred rib, and placed it like a sacred relic into the bag they’d brought.

Halari turned back to Callan just as pressed his forehead to the skull’s and began to sob. His cries were heavy and laden with an agony that she didn’t even try to understand. He had wept silently over his city, but for his long-lost wife, the dam held no longer.

In that second, she didn’t care if the moment wasn’t for her. The man she cared about was in pain and needed some semblance of comfort.

So, she went to him, knelt down behind him, and wrapped her arms around his back. Callan shook under her, but one of his hands let go of the skull and clutched her forearm desperately, like she was an anchor in his storm of anguish and grief. Halari just held him, providing all the strength he needed.

“Hala.” Viria’s voice sounded from her left some minutes later. “We have all of her.”

Callan inhaled deeply and rose, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Did you find a ring?” His voice sounded torn apart.

“Yeah.” Viria gestured to the tarp bag. “It’s in there.”

Halari looked into the bag. As expected, it was full of bones, all neatly placed. A silver ring, almost identical to Callan’s except for being set with an amethyst, was still looped around the third finger of an upturned, partially-charred skeletal hand.

“Thank you,” Callan rasped. “I appreciate the respect you’ve shown her.” Halari restrained a gasp when he pinched his own ring between two fingers and slipped it off his hand.

Callan stared at the ruby for a moment, then kissed the ring gently before placing it in the palm of his deceased wife, right next to hers. “Close it up.”

They pulled the bag’s strings and the top scrunched close.

“I will take her.” He took the bag reverently, cradling it close like a small child. “You may all go home now. You’ll be rewarded for your assistance today.”

Halari nodded a farewell to her sister and stayed behind with Callan.

“I need one more thing from you, Halari,” Callan whispered once they were alone. “I need some place to let her rest. Somewhere away. Peaceful. Do you know anywhere like that?”

Away. Peaceful… Halari thought for a moment. “I have an idea.”

They were on the road quickly. Halari steered them through the dark wastes while Callan sat behind her, facing the rear like he usually did. He clutched the sack of bones with both arms as if worried that it might spill open or blow away in the wind. She felt him heave a couple of times and knew that he was holding back more sobs.

It took thirty minutes to reach the spot she thought of. Like most of the world, it wasn’t pretty. A wide, shallow pond of water sat in the middle of a ring of trees that grew out of standard, gravelly soil. What made this place memorable to her was the other plant life: a type of small shrub with crystalline purple leaves that glittered on the brightest days. They made a perimeter for the pond.

“This is perfect, Halari,” Callan whispered, starting at the place with a thankful expression. “I’m... I’m beyond grateful.” Bag in his arms, he approached a bare patch of the loose, rocky dirt. Halari grabbed a shovel from her trawler and followed, then began to dig with him. Callan used his bare hands, scooping huge piles away quickly.

He set the bones of his wife into a hole three feet deep; that was all the world allowed before immovable black stone blocked their progress. When she was covered up, they sat down together near the grave. There was no marker, but Halari did cut away a bundle of glinting shrubbery to put near the head.

I can’t imagine what it’s like, Halari thought, placing her head on Callan’s shoulder and clutching his hand. Losing part of yourself like this. The look on his face was unforgettable.

They didn’t talk for a long time, but when Callan spoke again, what he said didn’t surprise her at all. Of course, it was something a man like him who’d blamed himself for her getting hurt last week would say.

“I killed my wife, Halari,” Callan whispered, wrapping his arms around his knees. His eyes were haunted and distant like they were seeing something so awful she could never understand. “I killed her that day.”

“No you didn’t Callan,” Halari said, tightening her grip on his hand. “It was those bastards, the other Flames that did it to you.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, beginning to shake again, this time so intensely she worried he might actually hurt himself. It felt like his bones were coming undone inside his arms. “She wasn’t supposed to be there that day. But she wanted to come to be there for my... victory. Because she loved me. So I let her. I led my wife to her death hand-in-hand, thinking that our friends could never betray us.”

“That is not on you,” Halari said heavily, but he kept talking as if he didn’t even hear her, so lost now in this resurrected nightmare.

“More than that, though...” Callan coiled in on himself and each word that followed was choked with a sob. “There wasn’t any air down there, Halari. She was only human, so she couldn’t survive that. She was suffocating. Her lips turned blue and she got so weak and so quiet...”

Halari felt a chill at his words but didn’t let go of him while he continued. She knew he had to go through this, to suffer and relive it one more time so it didn’t torture him, but his pain emanated off him in waves. It was awful.

“She begged me to end it,” Callan murmured. “She begged me to stop her suffering. So...” His teeth ground against each other with such force that she heard it through his cheeks. “So I did it... I burned my wife alive!” With that, his sobs overtook his ability to speak and he broke down.

It made sense now, why the bones she’d found appeared charred and melted in a few places. Halari realized that he must have used his lightning to put the woman out of her misery.

The will that took.

The love.

“What you did for her...” Halari pulled his face to look at her. His bright, draconic eyes were flooded with tears, some of which she dabbed off with her sleeve. “...was mercy, Callan. It wasn’t your fault, it was theirs. And one day, when we get up there to take what we deserve, we’ll avenge her. We’ll avenge all of us.” She wiped away the last of his tears, then kissed him gently on the forehead before curling up beside him. Callan gazed at her like she was all he knew in the world.

Sitting there on the gravel, she wondered what the woman had been like to earn Callan’s heart to the point he mourned like this. The strength he must have used to bottle up these feelings for so long was a tragic feat in its own right.

Hell, I didn’t even know she existed until today, Halari realized sadly. There wasn’t any mention of her in the Melokide histories or files they’d released, something she found weird, thinking about it. His wife had to have been important in the world, right? Wait a damn second...

A thought struck her like a rock to the head.

“Callan, your wife...” Halari bolted to a sitting position. “Do you remember her name?”