I stood at the entrance to the Underdark, my gaze fixed on the darkness just beyond, where Tracker and his group had ventured in search of Sybil. I hadn’t moved for what felt like hours, though I knew it had only been half that. The air felt thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of what was to come. Maria’s presence lingered in my mind, her thoughts threading through the bond between us. It was a quiet hum, the kind of hum that signals grief and weariness, but I could feel it more acutely now than ever before.

They found her... I muttered, my voice barely a whisper as I sent the words through the bond. I felt Maria’s response immediately, the way it swept across me like a cold gust of wind.

I know. Her words were soft but laced with an emotion that was impossible to mask—pain, frustration, loss. The kind of loss that sinks deep into your chest and makes you forget how to breathe. I know…

I didn’t have words for the ache that grew in my chest, nor did I have any comforting thoughts to offer. There was no hope to give, not now. Sybil was gone. The woman who had so often been by Maria’s side, a guiding hand and a mentor, was lost to them.

I stared out into the expanse of the Underdark, waiting for the inevitable. The feeling of impending finality crept into my bones. Alright… take her to the Council Chambers. I will have them meet in two hours. Then she will be put to rest. And hopefully, her soul can rest.

Do you need a moment with her? I asked, my thoughts threading gently into her mind. I knew how Maria was with death, especially with those she cared about. This kind of loss had a way of carving its mark, a mark that could last for years. Her hesitation hung in the air before she responded.

Yes… but I don’t know if I can do it alone. The pain in her voice was sharp, raw. It echoed with the same weight of loss that I felt, but it was different for her.

I could feel her anguish across the bond, the sense of helplessness as she struggled to accept that the woman who had been her second mother was no longer there. I understand, I said softly, knowing there were no words that could ease the pain. When they bring her up, I will come right to the Council Chambers with her. I’ll wait for you there.

Thank you, Théoden. Her whisper carried more than just gratitude. It held a deep, aching sorrow—a quiet understanding that we were both walking this difficult path together, even if we couldn’t find the right words to share it.

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Thirty minutes later, I heard the quiet shuffle of footsteps approaching, the sound of boots against the dirt path. Tracker and his group emerged from the darkness, their heads bowed low, their steps slow, like they were carrying the weight of the world itself on their shoulders.

They didn’t need to speak. I could see it in their faces. Grief clung to each of them like a second skin, pressing down on their shoulders, their brows furrowed with the knowledge that they had seen the finality of it all—the coffin that had once been Sybil, now a hollow shell in the cold depths of the Underdark. There was no question now. She was gone.

Tracker, usually so solid and composed, looked as though the breath had been knocked from his lungs. He spoke with quiet finality, his voice tight, almost strained. “This is the one time I was hoping you weren’t right.” His eyes lingered on the coffin as they carefully set it down, letting it rest in the sunlight for the first time. The warmth seemed to draw the shadows from the surface, but it did nothing to alleviate the ache in the air. Tracker didn’t meet my gaze, but his words were heavy with regret—like the weight of the truth was something too great to bear.

I nodded in agreement, my throat tight, my heart sinking even further. The truth was out in the open now. There was no hiding it. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, forcing myself to speak through the thick emotions that swirled within me. “Same,” I said softly, my voice betraying the weight I carried. “However, there is one good thing that can come out of this…”

Tracker’s eyes flickered up to meet mine, and I could see the exhaustion in his gaze, the understanding that there was no comfort to be found in this moment. He had lost something too, though perhaps not in the same way that Maria and I had. But he had seen it through to the end, and that counted for something. “And what is that, Captain?”

I looked over at the coffin, taking in the way the rough-hewn wood caught the sunlight. The piece of reality I had been avoiding for so long. “Sybil can rest in peace now.”

My words hung in the air like a prayer. Sybil had been through so much—serving as a pillar for the kingdom, a guide to the Princess, a source of strength and wisdom for the Council. She had given so much of herself to others, but now, it was time for her to find peace. The thought was bittersweet. No one deserved to go like this—so suddenly, so violently—but at least her struggle was over.

For a moment, we all stood in silence, allowing the moment to pass. There was nothing more to say. No grand speeches, no empty promises. Just the quiet understanding that we owed Sybil this one last act of respect. It didn’t matter that we had more pressing matters to attend to, that the Council would have to be shaken awake and reminded of the reality of their own world. In that moment, Sybil had earned this peace, and we gave it to her.

The others bowed their heads in solemn silence, offering their respect in their own way, though none of them could say what needed to be said. They understood—we all understood—that this was the end of an era for Sybil. The person we had known was gone, but at least her soul could rest now.

Tracker finally broke the silence, his voice quieter, more subdued. “I hope she finds peace… wherever she is.”

It was the closest any of us could come to a prayer, but it felt fitting. Sybil had served her kingdom, had served us all, and now—finally—she could rest.

And though the weight of the coming Council meeting loomed over us, we allowed this brief moment of respect to settle into the air. It was a small comfort, but it was all we could give her now.