Their bodies are going to be burned.
Necromacer seem to be a common problem in countries such as Fiore, and while the people of Alvarez are mourning the death of half of the empire's elite warriors – six members of the Spriggan 12 – the sheer thought of an evil individual controlling the fallen wizards' bodies and their incredible powers is frightening them just as much.
"They don't deserve this. We should have taken them back to their home countries and buried them where their ancestors lie."
Brandish Myu is standing next to her comrades – the remaining Spriggan 12, including herself – and watches a high priestess chanting a spell on the dead bodies of the fallen wizards, who are covered with white sheets and countless roses and lie on a table made of smooth rocks. It is a common ritual in the Empire, though only the wealthy can afford the services of high priestesses.
"Be quiet, Randi. This is not the time to pity them." The voice belongs to Dimaria Yesta, the woman Brandish had considered her closest friend until the day that she attacked and badly wounded her.
"They are dead. They don't care about that anymore."
Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Brandish lets her head hang low, unable to watch as the high priestess sets the dead bodies on fire, one after the other: first August – he used to be their leader, after all – then Bloodman, God Serena, Wall, Irene and lastly Larcde Dragneel, his former Majesty's son.
Brandish feels an unbearable pain in her chest, causing her great distress. Keeping her stance, the green haired woman notices tears forming in her eyes. It doesn't take too long until they are streaming down her cheeks, and the usually oh so callous beauty lets out a quiet but pained cry.
She loved him. She still does. Losing him in the battle against Fairy Tail has shattered her heart into thousands of pieces, and into a million more when she found out that Larcade has died at the hands of his own father.
Stop crying, she tells herself, forcing the salty tears that run over her soft skin to cease. She is a Spriggan – she can't possibly show how weak she is in this moment. Not, when the people of Vistarion, the empire's capital, are watching. The locals have gathered on the central plaza where the sacred ritual was held, while Brandish, Dimaria, Invel, Ajeel, Jacob and Neinhart are standing in front of the table, paying their respect to their fallen comrades.
The flames are burning painfully hot, but when they disappear, all that is left is ash.
"How cruel..."