“This is a serious request, Magus Natavali,” the Grand Magus said from her place at the head of the thirteen council seats once the High Magus was finished presenting the events of the last week and a half. “While I understand your desire here, Ser Kevza was not removed from the Keep for some trivial matter. Ideally, you would have brought this matter to the council before welcoming him through the wards, especially in a time of crisis.”

            Her fine, just-aging features were arranged in a passably professional expression of concerned displeasure and pity both, the harsher edges of her appearance in the black stone room softened some by the smooth waves of her auburn hair as she looked down on them from her seat. This woman, whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him, had not been the Grand Magus when Kevza had last been here, apparently having risen to the position sometime in the last seven years. He couldn’t say he wasn’t somewhat thankful for it though. The former Grand Master had been a prickly old man, aged and decrepit, and full of spite for those he held in disdain.

            Kevza hadn’t had to deal with his displeasure as a star student, but the man had seemingly been trying to make up for years of lost ire when he had the young man thrown out with nothing more than the clothes on his back and a measly bag of personal effects. Now, it was all he could do to remain standing with Danae in the center of the room, his breathing shallow and quick as he listened to the council members speak over their heads.

            “I understand your concerns,” Natavali answered in a clear, calm voice from his place at the seventh seat. (The seventh seat! Kevza marveled somewhere under his panic. Just how talented had the man become?!) “But it is precisely because we are in a time of crisis that I felt it was necessary to not delay. I will confess, I do not know all the details of why Ser Kevza was banned from Domen Keep, as it was a confidential decision of your predecessor. But I do know this: I have never, in all our years of acquaintance, seen anything in his behavior that would cause me to deem him a threat to anyone’s safety.”

            “You are biased,” one of the other, older-looking High Magus said. “It is well known that the two of you shared a master. Naturally, you would speak well of him.”

            “It is true, Master Draan cared for both of us for many years.” Natavali nodded. “But if I, the man who had to spend every day at his side, cannot say I see a fault, then how can you, a man who knows him not at all save from secondhand information, claim to know one? Would you call me a liar, Magus Bellisa?”

            “Of course not, of course not,” the old mage said, waving a hand lightly. “We all know you to be of an impeccable character, elsewise you would not have a seat with us. It is simply a concern I bear. Those who hold affection for pitiable people will always want to help them, even if it comes with great consequences to their own ilk. And you have no reason to not hold great affection for him.”

            The way the older man said it left something twisting in Kevza’s stomach. He was right, Natavali did speak up for his friends, and in spite of all the awkwardness of the last little while since their surprise reunion, they had been friends. This would surely taint the views the other members of the High Council would hold of him. He didn’t want to be causing problems for him, not when he’d accomplished so much…

            “I’ve heard enough,” the Grand Magus said, raising one hand to quell the quiet mutterings that ran through the other seats of the council. “While the method in which you’ve executed this, Magus Natavali, was unconventional, I must agree that we are honor bound to provide aid to those who need it in these trying times.” She rose from her seat, tucking one of the loose, curling strands of her matronly hair back behind her ear. “Given your character, and your willingness to testify on his behalf, I will agree to allow him to stay. However, he will be your responsibility, and any issues that may arise will reflect on you as well.”

            “I understand, Your Eminence,” Natavali said, bowing his head.

            “Very well. If no one has anything else to discuss?” She paused for a moment, looking around at the other members of the council. “Excellent! Then we are dismissed.”

            The council members rose, almost as one, and began making their ways down the short steps at the ends of the raised council podium. Kevza stood still, waiting in the center of the room with his hands folded in front of him and his head lowered as they all passed, until a warm hand on his arm prompted him to look up into Natavali’s thoughtful golden eyes.

            “You’re pale,” the older man commented, a small furrow between his brows.

            “I do not blame you for your nervousness, Ser Kevza,” the Grand Magus said, startling Kevza even as she walked up behind them with a calm aura. “I would fret too, were I in your position. But shaking like a leaf is not a state I’d like you to be in during your whole time here. Something to eat from the kitchens might be a good idea to help settle you before you head to the ceremony.”

             “Thank you, Your Eminence,” Kevza said in a small voice, bowing his head once more.

             “Say nothing of it. Lynette deserves to see you with some steadiness in your limbs before we say goodbye. I understand the two of you were close during your apprenticeship here.” She turned to the other mage, arching a brow. “I trust you know what to do with this, Natavali.”

             “I do. Thank you.”

             “Mm.” She hummed softly, looking between the three of them for a moment before turning and heading to the door. “I’ll see you again soon, then.”

***

             The small strawberry pastry Natavali brought him was still sweet on his tongue as he and the Magus walked side by side down the sea salt-covered steps carved into the side of the cliff, the thin red gauze of their veils fluttering gently in the wind as they followed the procession down into the gracefully crafted catacombs.

             The jewel-toned carvings in the halls’ black and grey stones danced under the torchlight, leading them down into the hallowed depth in quiet, save for the soft, mournful singing coming from the pair of grave tenders at the front of the line leading the pallbearers. They walked in deep, until at last the shine of gathered pillar candles and the fair funeral fabrics could be seen ahead.

             At the forefront, Lynette was lowered onto the stone dais that would be her final resting place, her soft blonde hair and ornate black and silver robes lightly mussed by the breeze during the descent. Her face was tranquil and blank, her hands folded delicately over her waist, and no sign of her injuries peeked around the carefully constructed façade of peace as she laid on the resplendent blue cloth.

             He and Natavali were silent as the Grand Magus took her place beside the stone slab, her presence solemn behind her veil as she addressed the gathered mourners. To her side, a man stood quietly weeping behind a shroud of rose-colored fabric, no doubt the fiancé that Kevza had been told about that morning. Her students were not far away, huddled together as they wiped tears from their covered faces.

             Altogether, Kevza was quiet throughout the ceremony, his own eyes blurry with tears that refused to fall. He didn’t catch half of what was said throughout the memorial, lost in his own memories, faded as they were, of the woman laid out before them. With sorrow in his heart, and guilt in no small measure, he felt the least he could do was give his silence for a moment more, so her other mourners could express themselves without his age-old burden.

             Silent as the songs were sung.

             Silent as the prayers were offered.

             Silent as the Grand Magus was joined by other high-ranking mages, Natavali included, and they all knelt before the visage and watched as their combined magic crept over Lynette’s form, forever preserving her peaceful face in stone. He stood to the side as the many people gathered, slowly making their way up to her resting place and speaking quiet words of farewell.

             So many people…

             “She was one of my very first true friends,” Kevza thought as more people passed by, others heading back to the entrance once their final words were spent. “That’s how I knew her. What about you? Or him? Or them? How did you know Lynette? What memories are you here to mourn?”

             “Kevza,” Natavali said softly, placing a hand on his arm and drawing him out of his thoughts. “Do you want to say something?”

             The alchemist looked around, noting most of the people had left the smaller space, no doubt going back to kneel at the altar stone near the entrance and pray. Now, only the fiancé and a few others remained, huddled to one side of the tomb, speaking in sad tones.

             He, himself, didn’t trust his words just yet, giving a small nod as he pulled away and approached the transformed woman, brushing a hand over the stone edge of a sleeve.

             “You look… beautiful,” he whispered softly after several long minutes. “I’m glad this is the way you’ll be remembered. I’m… I’m sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to visit you sooner, or that I never wrote.” At last, the tears burning on his lashes began to drip down his cheeks below the veil. “I know… I know you cared about me. And I cared about you too. I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear to you, with how things played out. But you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll help look out for things here. Natavali too. You… you can rest now, Lynette. We’ll be ok.”

             He reached out, brushing a knuckle along the cold stone of her cheek, his muted sobs too thick to say any more. He offered her one last word of farewell and apology before he stepped back, slowly moving out of the small alcove, back up to the surface.

             Even with the funeral veil over his head, the sun glared radiantly off the water, the bright and cheery weather at odds with the despondent feeling in his chest as he wandered, pulling the article of mourning away from his face as his feet carried him away without his guidance, through the halls and terraces of Domen Keep.

             He wasn’t sure how long he drifted about until at last, he stopped at the entrance to a familiar sight.

             The long, sweeping branches of the willow tree rustled in the breeze, the iron bench hidden under its boughs empty save for a single pale blue flower blown onto its bench by the will of nature. Its metal still ran cold and smooth under his fingertips as he passed behind it, moving to the thin, rectangular gap in the stones of the Keep itself, looking out onto the view of the mountain sloping down to the swaying fields of the plains, and the rocky stretches of beach beyond.

             He had spent many evenings here as a boy. He could practically see it still: Natavali and Lynette settled on the bench, looking over whatever book the older boy had found in the library, with Kevza sitting on a low branch above them, reading over their heads. Maybe Tulio would have been there too, or perhaps Nya, or any of the other little Magi who took an interest in the three of them.

             But it had always been the three of them.

             He stood there, looking out over the landscape for a long time, remembering their days of laughter, their days of strife, and every day in between, until the sun painted the sky with the onset of dusk.

             “I thought you might be here,” came the voice behind him. “I was looking for you.”

             “I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” Kevza said softly, not turning as Natavali came up behind him.

             “It is nothing. I figured you might want some time alone while I helped with the other services. I only grew worried when so many hours passed without your return.”

             “When was she supposed to marry that man?” Kevza asked after several minutes of silence.

             “Sometime next spring,” Natavali answered, looking out over the view as well. “They hadn’t finalized the exact date yet.”

             “Mm.”

             “Come sit, I brought something,” Natavali said, gesturing to the bench. “For old times’ sake.”

             The alchemist turned at last and saw a small basket by the bench holding a few small loaves of bread and cheese, and what looked like a ceramic bottle of Kath wine. The ache in his chest seemed to flair and settle all at once at the sight.

             Kevza gave a small chuckle, following after the other man as he settled on the bench, pulling out his small commemoration. While Natavali had always brought them books from helping in the library, Lynette had always snuck out the kitchen’s leftover breakfast bread and cheese in the afternoons, and they’d pass it around as they relaxed under the tree’s shade.

             Now, there were no books, and there was no Lynette, but there was Kevza and Natavali, with a basket of bread and cheese between them, sipping the sweet wine and reminiscing together as the stars grew bright overhead.

             There were old stories about the stars, Kevza remembered. He’d had to sit and memorize them when he was a young boy who had first come to these blackened halls. It was one of the first great lessons of magic. Some might even say the first great lessons of the world itself- the story of the Lord and Lady who crafted the world from the Ether and looked upon their creations from the place they had made for themselves above. And as their descendants died, they too took up a watch, glinting from beyond the veils of the night sky.

             It had been Lynette's favorite story.

             “Which one do you think she is?” Kevza asked once the wine ran dry, looking to the heavens.

             “If I had the choice,” Natavali murmured, drawing his mourning veil through his hands, “I would make her one of the brightest stars in the night sky. But the Lord and Lady craft the heavens, so I have to trust Them to make her placement a proper one.”

             “Yeah,” Kevza sighed softly. “She deserves to be seen. But I never look at the stars much. I can’t tell if any of them are new or not.”

             “Neither can I,” the Magus said, listing softly to the side and pressing their shoulders together. “But I’m sure she’s out there, somewhere. And she’d be happy to see you here.”