crowds in a haze. His heart would not slow down nor his fingers stop trembling.
"Damn it, Piri!" He shouted himself hoarse. "Piri, where are you?"
Clouds roiled overhead, and rain began to patter. Blood ran in rivulets between the corpses. Rainwater streamed off fallen trees and walls. Bayrin walked around a great, smashed carving of a stoic face—it was large as a dragon—and over the roots of a fallen tree. Dead nephilim lay around him.
"Piri!" he shouted, seeking her in the mud and ruin.
"Bayrin?"
Her voice was so soft, so timid and afraid, that tears leaped into his eyes.
He ran toward her voice. He found her beneath a fallen wall. The stones buried her up to her chest. She looked up at him, only one arm free, and smiled softly. Her head lay in the mud, rainwater flowing around it. Blood soaked her healer's robes.
"Stars, Piri. Hang on."
Bayrin trembled and grabbed the fallen wall. He shouted and grimaced, but it would not move. Piri lay there, watching him, the sad smile never leaving her face. Blood matted her dark braids.
With a growl, Bayrin shifted into a dragon, grabbed the wall with his claws, and pulled at the bricks. The wall crumbled in his claws; it was like grabbing sand. He roared, eyes stinging, and tossed the bricks aside until he revealed her body.
Oh stars.
He shifted back into human form and knelt above her, tears in his eyes. Her body was broken. Every bone in her must have snapped. Bayrin blinked, barely able to see. He touched her cheek.
"Piri, you're going to be fine. I'm going to take you home."
She raised her good arm. It trembled. She touched his cheek and smiled and whispered. He had to lean down to hear her words.
"Bayrin," she whispered. "Bayrin, do you remember Requiem?"
He smoothed her hair. "Of course, Piri."
"I'm flying there now, Bayrin. I can see them." Tears flowed from her eyes. "I can see the columns again, all in silver and moonlight, and I can see my parents there and all those I could not heal." She trembled in the mud and rain. "Bayrin, do you remember how I sneaked into your room once? Remember how surprised you were? And how we kissed, and you said that I was so beautiful?"
He laughed through his tears. "I'll never forget."
She laughed too, a weak, broken sound. "It's a good memory. I never forgot it." She sniffed, eyes red. "It was my best day. I love you, Bayrin. I love you. No! Don't say anything back. I know, Bay. I know." She caressed his cheek. "Be with her, Bayrin. Take care of Mori and be happy with her. Protect her. Promise me."
He nodded and whispered, throat tight. "I will."
"Will you hold me, Bay? One last time?"
He held her in the mud, her head against his chest. She held him with one arm and smiled softly, and her breath died. She stared over his shoulder, and he held her against him, and he wept for her. He placed her down, kissed her forehead, and closed her eyes.
"Goodbye, Piri. May the song of harps lead you to our starlit halls. You will find Requiem's sky. You will fly home."
He shifted into dragon form. He lifted her body gently in his claws. He flew with her. He flew for hours until he found a hill far from the battle, a sanctuary where he could not see or smell the death. Pines rose twisting here, their needles rustling in the wind and coating the ground, and pinecones lay strewn and glistening in the rain. Between the pines he could look west to distant, lush forests, a river, and a lake where deer herded. A quiet place. A peaceful place. A place of pine, water, and memory.
He buried her there and placed his sword upon her breast, a sigil of honor for a soldier of Requiem. He rolled a boulder onto her grave, and with his dagger, he engraved it with her name, a birch leaf, and the Draco stars. He whispered.
"Goodbye, Piri Healer, a daughter of Requiem, a healer of starlight."
He flew back to their camp, found Mori, and held her, and they stood silently together for a long time.
ELETHOR
He stood upon the mountain, the wind ruffling his hair, and gazed upon a host like a frozen sea. Snow swirled through the air, coating the mountainsides, pines, and wrath of wounded nations.
Below him in the valley stood the survivors of Requiem, all in dragon forms—over three thousand of them, joined from his