grief.
The roots of the ancient trees weaved through the stone walls of the crypt like spider webs, yet somehow it made it comforting. The smell of moss and earth filled the small confines and filled my nostrils. It wasn’t at all as horrifying as I’d thought it would be. The sight of the plant-life gave a small twinkle of hope in an otherwise heartbreaking place. The narrow hallway sloped down into an expansive room. Torches hung from sconces on the walls and lit the area with a brilliant warm glow, muffling the sounds of sobs with their crackling light. Robin shuddered as we weaved through the mourners. Several archways dotted the walls around the room, leading down other confined passageways. In the center of the room stood a massive statue that reached from floor to ceiling. It acted as a pillar and a focal point. The mourners gathered around it, and from the glow emanating upward I could tell that was where we needed to go.
I hesitated for a moment when I saw Nyx’s face carved into the stone. Even though her gaze was cast downward I still feared she’d look up at me. I felt ridiculous for fearing her. My belief in her had done nothing but help me in the past.
Her expression was chiseled to display a deep sense of melancholy. Nyx’s hands were cupped under her face, and tears dripped from them to a pool at her feet. I marveled for a moment at the magic of such a sight, but realized it was probably a fountain. Yet, that fact still did not change the message the image represented. Nyx was weeping for her lost children. Unlike at the temple in Naos, this water wasn’t crystal clear. It was dark and limitless like the night sky.
Robin and I approached, looking down into the pool, watching the flowers floating in the murky water. They twinkled like stars in the night sky, like the souls sparkling inside every one of us. Together, we gently dropped our flowers into the water and watched them mingle with the others. Even though I hadn’t decided if I was crazy, or if Nyx had tried to send me some kind of message, I whispered a quick prayer as my fingers dipped into the water and released the flower.
“My father always wondered what happened when we died. He had so many books on the afterlife and the realm of Nyx. Now he’ll finally know the truth.” Robin’s words were full of sorrow, but her tears had subsided. I hugged her and she rested her head on my shoulder. “Do you think it’s true what they say, Claire? That our spirits live forever, even after our bodies have turned to dust?”
“I do. Nyx wouldn’t have made a soul as bright as your father’s to let it flicker away. Something that beautiful can never fade.”
Robin smiled up at me. “I think so, too. I never gave much thought about dying. Not until now. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I could come here and talk to him. Maybe he’ll hear me.”
“Our souls are always connected to us and the ones we love,” Arrick said as he sat beside us and placed a comforting hand on Robin’s shoulder. “The children of the goddess are laid to rest here so that their souls may visit this plane and hear the prayers and words of their loved ones. Your father’s body may be gone, but his soul will never die.” His words were full of sympathy, yet there was strength in them. I could feel his conviction.
“Thank you.” Robin patted his hand. “I’m going to go say goodbye.” Arrick and I nodded as she stood up and walked toward her mother on the other side of the room. Mara rested her head against the wall, her fingers caressing a carving that I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light or through the fog of tears that still clung to my lashes.
Arrick guided me back out toward the tomb entrance and to an empty stone bench, different from where I’d sat before. Tonight had been harder than I had expected. Not just because of the pain I felt, but seeing the anguish in the ones I cared about. Every vampire around me had lost someone.
A face I recognized caught my attention across the expanse of the tomb courtyard. It was the young vampire who’d danced with Robin at my coronation ball. He was consoling a