ALICE
The Fae of West Faerie don’t believe in burying those who have passed. Instead, their ceremony consists of cremation and the scattering of ashes. From the earth, to the earth.
I stand at the edge of a ravine with Brahm’s close family, listening as he gives Wallen’s eulogy. There’s grief in my husband’s voice, both due to the passing of a man he was close to and the lingering shame of believing that faithful friend betrayed him.
Regina cries openly, and Sabine and Drake simply bow their heads.
It’s a somber occasion, quiet and thoughtful. Even the forest seems to understand we’re in mourning. The only sound is the gentle rustling of leaves. The birds, too, are silent.
Finally, Brahm opens the urn and tips it over the ledge. The breeze catches the ashes, sending them swirling in the air as they fall.
And then, they are gone.
Brahm turns to me, offering his hand. We walk back to the estate as a group, not speaking until we reach the entry steps.
“What comes next?” I ask quietly, unsure of Faerie funeral traditions.
Brahm turns to me, giving me a sad smile. “Now we move on.”