A loud gong sounded in the distance, low and deep, and in the earliest morning hours, mournfully rang in the Winter Solstice. Pia stood shoulder to shoulder with Lei and Chasu, who had spotted her in the crowd and surprisingly budged their way through to stand beside her. Haojie and Yijun stood behind them, a solid, comforting presence.

For once, she wished to have not seen so much of the Xieya Sect, for the reason she had brought a cold ache to her heart.

When the meal had finished, they had lingered in the rooms, talking quietly and drinking Cloud Silk. Long into the night they remained there, many returning to the memorial chamber to pay their respects to the souls.

At the first strike of the gong, everyone in Solemnity had risen to their feet and made their way outside. She stayed close to Haojie and Yijun, not wanting to be separated in the throng. As they walked down the streets, many more members of the sect joined them. Slipping from shadows, leaping down from rooftops, and some even seeming to materialize from thin air, they filled the streets.

They’d all stood lining the streets as members of the sect passed out tall candles, one to each person. One by one, candles began to glow softly in the darkness. Pia had been inspecting her candle, amazed at its spiritual feel, when Lei and Chasu had spotted her and made their way to her side. Despite their argument earlier in the week, Pia was secretly grateful for their presence. It was comforting to have people she knew around her. While she didn’t know Qian Hong, the sorrow and grief were palpable around her.

The gong sounded once more, still as haunting and eerie as the first three times it had sounded, and the crowd moved. In the cold winter breeze, the candles flickered furiously, and the white banners and ribbons flapped angrily.

The crowd was silent, making their many footsteps sound like steady drums against the frozen ground. She spotted a man to her right—tall and dressed all in black, even half his face was covered by a black mask. In the flickering flame of his candle the red, anguished rims of his eyes were visible. Something about that sight, the mysterious man who sought to hide his identity, yet openly displaying his grief, brought stinging tears to her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she looked ahead, refusing to look around her any longer.

The crowd came to a stop at the main gate and parted in the middle, clearing the main path. From the far end of the main road, a small group of people emerged, carrying the body of Qian Hong. Dangling from under the body, a long black shroud embroidered with a soaring white crane stirred as the litter moved. Pia’s eyes locked on that image—the crane soaring, wings spread, free and vivid against the blackness of the fabric.

The body came parallel with them and her eyes landed on the young woman. The woman had been stunningly beautiful. Seeing that brought fresh tears to her eyes. What a loss. Qian Hong’s heart shaped face was still and pale, but her bright red lips curled upwards even in death. Her hair up in a half-knot, secured with an ivory white hairpin. She half expected the woman’s eyes to open and for her to sit up and grin. The body passed by, and the woman remained frozen in time.

Behind the litter carriers Mow walked alone, dressed all in white, carrying a black torch. Once he passed, the crowd stepped back onto the path, following Qian Hong's body and their Sect Leader. The procession left the main gate.

Lei’s shoulder brushed hers and she looked at the boy. In the candlelight Pia saw tearstains on his pale cheeks. No one was immune to the feelings that hung heavy over them all. The crowd followed the litter off the main road, up a long winding path, and out into a clearing that stood atop a hill.

The clearing instantly reminded her of the view from Divine Ascent, though it wasn’t as grand. The clearing rose above the landscape, showing only open sky and darkness far below. Waiting in the middle of the clearing stood a stack of wooden logs.

Seeing that, her heart began to beat hard and heavy against her chest. Mutely she watched as the men placed the litter atop the wood and pulled the shroud across Qian Hong’s body. Mow stepped up to the pyre, torch in hand.

Pia knew that moment would remain in her memory for all eternity. Even when she died and reincarnated into her next life, that memory would remain etched into her soul’s memory. Mow’s sorrow lined face was illuminated by the torch as he stood above the pyre, waiting, unable to send her off just yet.

The gong sounded from Cangzhi, audible even there, and Mow dropped the torch onto the wood. It sprang to life with a roar, wood crackling and hissing as the wind stirred life into the fire.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she hardly registered them. The fire snarled with a ferocity that seemed otherworldly and the flames grew higher and hotter, spitting its rage against the night.

The smell—she would never forget that smell. The oily overwhelming smell of human flesh sizzling atop the fire burned into her senses, cloying her throat. Feeling as if she might vomit Pia bit her lip hard to keep it in.

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“Here,” Yijun whispered, and he pressed a finger to the tip of her nose. A powerful mint smell clogged her nostrils, making her eyes tear further, and her nose to run. Yet, it helped, and the nauseous feeling that’d almost overcome her abated.

He turned and dabbed a bit on Lei and Chasu’s noses and Pia, watching him do it, saw tears streaming from their eyes too. Feeling moved by their shared emotion, Pia turned and handed her candle to Haojie, who took it without question. Pia reached out and took Lei’s right hand, squeezing it tightly. Looking at Chasu, she nudged the girl’s left side, holding out her hand. Chasu looked down at her hand and up at Pia’s face. For a long moment, the two girls stared at one another, Chasu’s candle flickering between them. Switching her candle to her right hand, Chasu curled her hand around Pia’s, returning the tight clasp.

No one moved from their spot as the fire burned bright and hot, not even when it began to quiet, and still not even when it smoldered, a pile of ember and bone. The wind viciously needled the fire, but it had lost its spirit, the wildness that it’d used to consume the wood and flesh. Now it lay, dying embers.

Only once the dawn broke over the sky, bathing the clearing in long tendrils of light did the crowd begin to stir. Pia's eyes felt gritty and raw, and sleep tugged at her with all its might, but something in her refused to budge.

The sun grew and brightened, chasing the remnants of night from the sky. A few lingered in the clearing still. She noticed the man dressed all in black stood at the far side of the pyre, eyes locked on the few remaining embers. A woman stood beside Mow, her long blue dress fluttering in the breeze. She stared at the side of Mow’s face, but the man didn’t spare her a glance, eyes still locked on the dying fire.

Pia blinked trying to clear the grit and sleep from her vision. The woman looked familiar to her. She was looking at Mow with a sad smile, her bright, full lips quirking upward though her eyes were filled with pain.

Shock filled Pia, whose eyes quickly returned to the pyre, where only remnants of wood and bone lay. She shook her head lightly, trying to sort her brain. Clearly it must be tiredness, or smoke singed eyes deceiving her.

The woman beside Mow had the same features as Qian Hong—from the elegant heart shaped face to the curled lips. Perhaps a sister?

Scanning the people around, she saw that no one seemed to pay any special attention to the woman. Believing that it must be a relative, Pia sighed. In her hands, Lei and Chasu’s palms were warm, anchoring her back to the moment.

The stragglers that remained began to depart, leaving only Pia’s group, Mow, and the woman in blue. She saw the man in black turn and leave, shoulders slumped, feet slow. Whoever she was, her heart ached for his pain.

Haojie let out a deep sigh and left. Pia watched him go, but he never looked back. Chasu let go of Pia’s hand, bowed one last time, and left. Lei remained; hand still tightly wrapped around hers.

“Pia,” Yijun said, startling her from her thoughts. She looked at him and he gave her a reassuring, kind look. “It’s time to go now.”

That made fresh tears well in her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Seeing them, Yijun cupped the back of her neck, squeezed gently, and said, “When you’re ready,” then he turned and left.

It was only the four of them now. Lei and Pia on one side of the pyre, Mow and the woman on the other. She shifted closer to the remains, tugging Lei with her. Her legs felt stiff and sore from the long hours of standing and her steps were halting.

Looking over, Mow’s eyes landed on her and Lei. He nodded to them but said nothing. Pia’s eyes landed on the woman, who had not budged from Mow’s side. Closer now, she saw that the woman seemed to flutter. It was as if she were there, but through a filmy screen that waved with every light touch of air.

The longer Pia stared the less the image seemed right. Reaching up, Pia rubbed her eyes with her right hand. Lei still held tight to her left. Despite rubbing her eyes, the woman still remained. It must be the lack of sleep, she thought, when the fluttering around the woman didn’t cease.

The woman’s eyes moved to Pia’s and the two stared at one another. She’d never seen eyes of blue before. They glistened like bejeweled water through a prism. Mesmerized Pia could not look away, and the woman’s eyes sharpened on her.

Lei let go of her hand and she turned to him, breaking the connection with the woman.

“I’ll be going now. Pia, you should go too,” he said, voice scratchy and thick.

She watched him leave, unable to make herself follow. It felt too final to leave. She’d never known the woman, but her loss…Pia felt it deep within. A sorrow she’d never experienced losing her parents yet felt profoundly for this stranger.

“Sometimes we need to let go, even when it hurts,” Mow said, voice soft. She looked at him and saw him giving her a look of understanding.

“I…feel wrong to leave,” she admitted, eyes returning to the heap of burned ash and wood.

“Her soul has left us. Only the remains of her former life are here now,” he told her.

“Will she be forgotten?” she asked, it was a question that had been eating her alive. Imagining this woman only as a name on a spirit table, hidden away in the sect.

“What was her name?” Mow asked, looking out over the pyre into the bright, blue sky.

“Qian Hong,” whispered Pia, and the wind caught her words, carrying them away.

Nodding, Mow turned away from the pyre and began to walk away. He paused at the edge to look back at her, saying, “No one is ever forgotten when their name lingers,” and then he too departed.

Those words cut her deeply and she clutched at her chest as she sank to her knees. It was not intentional, she knew, but it hurt, nonetheless. Resting her head on the cool grass, she hoped the woman had left, and no one would be privy to her moment of weakness.

Being orphaned as a child, she’d never known her parents’ names. Mow’s kindness had been a cutting reminder of what was lost for her. Coupled with the emotion of Qian Hong’s funeral, Pia felt overwhelmed with sorrow.

It took her a long while to regain her composure, but eventually she stood, wiping her freshly wet cheeks with the edge of her robe. She was grateful to see she was alone. It was time to go, Mow was right, there was no sense standing beside a pile of ash. Qian Hong was long gone. All that remained were the feelings of loss. Turning, Pia left.

“You can see me, can’t you?” whispered the wind.

Pausing, she looked back, but only the vibrant sun filled the clearing.