Page 214 of The Call of Crimson
Ayden twirls his stem, gaze distant as he contemplates something. “You place them on his body just before we light the pyre.”
I nod in understanding, then turn my stare to the unlit pyre. Heavy sorrow blankets me as the group waits for me to deliver the hardest goodbye of my life.
“Truthfully, I never imagined I’d be giving this eulogy.” My chest constricts at the weight of each word. “Elijah and I would joke that when the gods came to take us home, I would undoubtedly go first due to some reckless mistake on my part. I always believed that would be the case.”
My voice breaks, and I fight to continue.
“How does one say goodbye to the other half of their soul? How do I say goodbye to the one who made me laugh when I wanted to cry? Who supported me through every single mistake, and who held me through every storm?”
Tears flow freely down my face. “Furthermore, how do I pick up the pieces and move on after I’ve figured out how to let you go? Because I never wish to forget. Even if I piece myself together with crucial parts missing, I refuse to leave behind the first male who taught me that family isn’t just blood. The one who knew exactly when to push me and exactly when to hold me back. The boy who broke his arm with me and suffered every consequence alongside me. The person who taught me how to dance in the rain.” My voice wavers, the memory playing out in my mind.
“You will be forever with me, my brother, my best friend, my soul mate.”
The last of the words catches in my throat. I’m trembling, though I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.
On shaking legs, I force myself toward the pyre. I place the La Crencia flower atop Elijah’s chest, resting my hand against his for a brief moment.
His face is peaceful but unmistakably lifeless.
Stepping back, I turn my attention to Ophelia.
When she speaks, her voice is raw with grief. “Elijah taught me so many things. He taught me to love and how to be loved properly. He showed me what it was to trust another, after having spent so long trusting no one. I quite literally owe my life to him several times over, and that is a debt I can never repay nor ever forget.”
Her tiny fist clenches tightly around the stem of the La Crencia. “He was everything to me. He made me so many promises, and I’m so godsdamned fucking pissed at him for breaking those promises.” Her broken words drip with anger.
“Damnit, Eli. We didn’t have the life you promised me. We will never get to grow old or find out what our kids look like. There will be no slow dances and no hot chocolate by the fire. There will be nothing because, without you, nothing has any meaning. It should be me on that pyre and fuck you for taking my place,” she sobs.
“But for all that it’s worth, thank you. Thank you for teaching me to love and for loving me. I will never, not for a single breath, regret loving you. Thank you for showing me how to trust, for showing me so much passion and devotion. Thank you for dragging me out of the dark and reminding me what light feels like. Thank you… for it all.”
Her voice breaks as she lays her flower beside mine.
One by one, the rest of those in attendance walk up to leave their flower atop his pyre. When the last flower is placed, I step forward, my arm outstretched to Ophelia.
She meets me, her hand slipping into mine.
“Together?” I ask.
“Together.”
As his pyre is set ablaze, together we sing the Rimorian death hymn one more time.
May the mother keep you close
And the father protect you now
The tears that once were shed
Make the flowers grow
When the night is darkest
And the sun has ceased its shining
May you remember
My love for you is eternal
From your first breath
