Chapter 49 Ezra
We settled in the woods. After the attack, the homestead was no longer safe.
It was nearly rubble, and Lavinia would not return to the place where her mother was taken from us.
The majority of us agreed with her. It no longer felt like home.
We did not lose any of the girls we had rescued, but most of their families were slain.
With so many of us remaining, and no supplies, no home to shelter us, we had to make do with what we could.
We chose a part of the western woods that had a large enough clearing but was not close to the wall.
We had no way of knowing if more enforcers would be sent.
The mood around the camp was dismal. Raf had gone into town to gather any supplies he could without sharing too much about what had happened or where we were going.
He had returned with more than we expected, though it remained clear that it would not be enough for long.
We grouped the girls in fours and crafted a tent for each.
A makeshift training ring was erected almost immediately.
After the attack on the sanctuary, no one wanted to be caught unprepared.
Today we would handle our dead. It was a cruel thought.
Margaret was stolen from us, and now we were forced to give her up once more.
Liv had not left our tent all day. A couple of the girls with plant magic had spent most of their time growing Midnight Star Blooms.
They were black flowers with five-pointed petals and a blue center.
The center of the flower bled onto the points of the petals, making it look as though a star were blooming in the night sky.
They bunched them together with Delphiniums. Margaret’s favorite flowers.
Helena and Raf constructed tables for us to gather at.
The girls who had helped Margaret in the kitchen offered to recreate some of her signature dishes as best they could while cooking over fire pits.
The two remaining fathers of the girls dug graves for all of those who were lost.
Everything was in order, yet it all felt so wrong.
Nevertheless, I prepared a seat for Liv at the head of the table.
As dusk approached, the family all gathered round and took their seats.
Silence replaced the idle chatter as Liv approached the table.
Her eyes were still rimmed with red. Her hair was not tied back as it usually was.
Instead, it was wild and wavy, falling over her shoulders in streaks of midnight blue and black.
I pulled out her chair and she took her seat with me to her left and Helena to her right.
Liv chewed at her bottom lip, the way she always did when she was worried or upset.
This time I did not attempt to pull her lip free or to stop her at all.
I took her hand in mine with a gentle squeeze, then reached for her through our soul bond.
I knew she was trying to be strong for the girls, but I could feel her breaking.
Helena took her other hand. We exchanged a glance, then both nodded at Liv so she knew she had our full support.
Liv stood and looked out over the girls. “My moth…” She cleared her throat. “My mother, Margaret…” Her voice cracked on her name. “She was a light.” She still struggled to speak through the sadness. So, I stood beside her.
“I know you probably pored over a piece of parchment all day,” I whispered.
“You likely had a grand speech prepared, and intended to show strength in the face of this tragedy.”
Her eyes grew teary. “That is not what anyone expects of you, Stellina.”
I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “This is your family, we share in your loss, we understand your grief. More importantly, you do not need to hide behind formalities with us.”
Helena stood beside her as well and placed a small kiss on her cheek.
“You are my sister, in every sense of the word.” She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Liv’s ear. “I love you and I am with you. Speak from your heart, not from a scripted page.” She offered a small smile and nodded for Liv to continue.
“I know that Margaret was my mother, in the traditional sense.”
She took a breath. “But they are right.”
She nodded to me and then to Helena. “We are a family, and she held so much love for each and every one of you.”
She sniffled and tried to force back the tears that welled in her eyes.
“I did have a speech prepared. I spent all day writing it, and it was beautiful. That is not what she would have wanted. She did not care much for formalities.”
Liv chuckled. “No, she would much rather us speak not of what we lost, but what she left behind.”
Liv let go of our hands and stood on her chair.
“You see, Margaret touched every single person she ever crossed paths with. She was the very definition of light, even in the darkest of times. And that is what she has left behind.”
Her voice was more sure now, and she stood a little taller, prouder.
“She always told me that everything we do in this life should be done in the hopes that the ones who come after us live better, even if it is only by a little bit.”
Her eyes scanned the faces seated before us.
“She did that. Everything she did left a beautiful piece of her in this world. She taught Christine to sew and showed her what a loving family felt like. Hell learned that not every situation needs to be met with force.” Helena chuckled at that.
“I learned to cook!” Arabella stood from her seat.
“She taught me how to make friends!” Eliza giggled.
“She showed me that the family you make speaks far more about your character than the one you are born into.”
I smiled. One by one, each and every person shared how Margaret had reshaped their life.
The mark she left on each of us remained, beautiful and permanent, even in her absence.
Liv’s eyes filled with tears anew. Though this time, they were not only of sadness, joy was there too.
“We will all miss her, possibly every day for the remainder of our time here. But that does not erase what she has done, who she was, and what she will remain: a light in the darkness.”
She gestured to the flowers. “Thank you for these. Midnight Star Blooms were quite possibly her favorite flowers. She said they reminded her that even in the night sky, as vast and all-consuming as it felt, stars still shone bright enough to light the way.”
She paused as though she were remembering something, or it was finally falling into place.
“I prayed to the gods not to take her from me,” she said softly.
“But they did not answer. They can be cruel sometimes, and I have been guilty of saying that they have abandoned us, or forgotten us.”
She reached for my hand. “Ezra and I have been studying the ancient Verithean texts. The true ones, that were not altered by men who only sought power. This reminds me of a passage that I read.”
She nodded to me and then to the tent. “I would like to read it to you.”
I ran to the tent and retrieved the book then handed it to her.
“The priest who kept record of the Great War wrote in this book, as did generations of his family before him.”
She flipped through the pages and smiled when she found what she was looking for.
“It says: ‘The gods are cruel, they play games with mortals such as we. At times, they forget us and forsake us. But the stars do not. The stars hold record of all that is, all that has been, and all that will come. Long before the gods and long after men, the stars remember.
’” She closed the book and handed it back to me.
“I would not presume to think that all of you feel the same as I do. But, I do take comfort in knowing that long after we are gone from this world, the memory of all that Margaret has done for us, and for others will remain. The gods may forget, those who come after us may not know,
but the stars will remember her sacrifice.”
Liv stepped down from the table, and I pulled her into my arms. We watched as Margaret was lowered into the ground and Helena wrapped her in stone so that the elements would not get to her. Something in the camp felt lighter.
Above us, the first stars of the night had begun to appear.