A Wish Upon the Stars (Tales From Verania 4)

“What did it say?” I asked hoarsely.

“Where he wanted to be laid to rest,” Ryan said, raising a hand like he was going to comfort me, but thinking better of it. “Where he felt he’d be closest to you. He knew, I think. That you’d leave.”

“Where?” I managed to say. “Where did he—” Then, “In the garden. That’s why you didn’t tell me.” I was angry now. “That’s why you didn’t say anything. Because you didn’t think I could deal with—”

“We didn’t say anything because we needed you to be focused,” Justin said. “We needed you to be here, with us. Have you had time to grieve, Sam? We have. Even with everything we went through, with the fall of Verania, we grieved. You still haven’t said what happened to you in the forest with the dragons.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped, hands in fists at my sides.

“Of course it matters,” Ryan said, tone pleading as he took a step toward me. “Sam, he was your family. And we all know how you internalize—”

“Don’t,” I growled. “Don’t you dare try and analyze me. That’s not fair. We’re here to save the King. Nothing else matters.”

“His marker is in the secret garden,” Justin said. “Near the entrance. You can pay your respects if you want, if Myrin hasn’t destroyed it, which I don’t think even he’s capable of. We can handle the dungeons and my father. You can wait for us there.”

I shook my head. “Let’s just go, okay?”

They exchanged another look, which irritated the holy hell out of me, but I chose to ignore it. Justin turned and entered my mother’s garden, leaving Ryan and me behind.

I tried to walk past Ryan, but he caught me by the arm. I didn’t try to shake him off. I was furious, but I didn’t want to take it out on him. He was only thinking of me.

“He loved you,” Ryan said. “More than anything else in this world.”

“I know.”

“And he believed in you.”

I blinked away the burn, only nodding in response.

I felt Ryan’s searching gaze but couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

He let me go.

I followed Justin.

IN THE end, we become bones and dust, and if we’re lucky, someone will be left who cares enough to leave a reminder of wood or stone to show that we were here, that we lived and laughed and loved. That we existed.

No matter what was raised in Morgan’s honor, it wouldn’t be enough.

So I wasn’t surprised when we entered my mother’s garden to find a small plaque set upon an onyx obelisk, the stone gleaming dully in the starlight. It sat in the middle of a small clearing, rising from the ground, almost as tall as I was. It was smooth, the lines cleanly cut, obviously lovingly crafted.

The base was surrounded by the brightest of flowers, blues and greens and reds and golds and pinks, the last of which reminded me of pointy shoes sticking out from underneath brightly colored robes.

The plaque read:

Here Lies Morgan of Shadows

The King’s Wizard

Brother, Friend, Mentor

He Loved, and Was Loved in Return

I reached out and traced my fingers over the grooves of each word.

“How is it still here?” I whispered. “Myrin should have….”

“Regardless of what he did,” Justin said, voice low, “regardless of who he was and who he’s become, he was still Morgan’s brother first. I think that matters. Even to him.”