The mounted torches had long since burned themselves down to cinders, the first rays of dawn beginning to color the horizon a vivid pink when Citra marched out into the temple's courtyard and immediately demanded a surprised group of warriors to begin constructing a coffin large enough to contain the body of a grown man. For a few moments, judging by the fleetingly appalled looks on their faces, she thought they might actually dare to object, but instead they lowered their heads respectfully and immediately scampered away to amass materials, her hawklike gaze following them until they were out of sight. Dennis, who'd been hovering nervously nearby since she'd emerged from the chamber, approached her, opening his mouth to say something, but the challenging way in which she whirled around to face him, her eyes noticeably puffy and red even in the poor early-morning light, made him think better of it. Instead, he only remained where he stood, watching with concern as the band of dispatched warriors returned with all the spare plywood and other assorted building items they could scavenge, and set to work right there at the top of the stone steps putting together the coffin their beloved queen had asked for. Citra, meanwhile, had walked away and seated herself cross-legged atop one of the thick roots of the ancient tree just behind them, observing closely to ensure they wouldn't deliberately put a poor effort into the project. As she watched, she plucked wildflowers from the grassy spaces in between the tree roots, her hands seeming to follow an achingly familiar pattern of movement that scarcely required the attention of her eyes.

A couple of hours later found the sun still climbing in the sky, shedding dappled light onto the warrior's handiwork – a wooden coffin reinforced with sheet metal, complete with a lid and crude handles attached to the sides so it could be carried more easily. Some might call it shabby, perhaps, but it pleased her nevertheless; it would serve its purpose well enough. She then instructed the warriors to enter the chamber and collect the tarp holding Vaas' body as they did before. They exchanged brief glances before turning and doing as they were told, albeit with more reluctance than she would've liked.

When they were far enough from earshot, Dennis cautiously approached Citra. Watching the warriors perform the task she'd given them, she didn't seem to notice him until he was right beside her.

It took him a minute to work up enough courage to say anything. "Citra… why are you doing this? This man, he… he murdered your people. Sold them like animals. He was the enemy…"

Citra turned to him. Her fierce stare, tearful though it was, was still plenty effective at making him feel small and weak.

"…He was my brother." she finally responded, her tone unreadable. "And he… was not always that way."

Dennis opened his mouth, a flood of questions pouring into his brain, but he closed it again to stop them. Now was obviously not the time. The warriors were exiting the temple now, the tarp sling containing her brother's corpse suspended between them as it was yesterday. They marched it over to the coffin, still doing everything within their power to not have to look directly at the body.

"Lay him down inside. Slowly…" she said to them. They did so, placing Vaas within the coffin. She tried not to think about how perfectly he fit inside it.

Citra stood over it, this tomb of wood and metal, and stared down at her dear older brother for what would be the final time. In her hands, she held the product of her earlier work – a flower crown, just like the ones he used to make for her when they were small, the stems tightly woven together in a circlet that'd never come loose. She bent down and gently placed it upon his head. The bright colors of the tropical flowers seemed to contrast sharply with the grayness of his skin.

She crossed his stiffened arms over his stomach, then left him with a kiss upon his forehead. "Farewell, my brother…" she whispered, so softly she knew he'd be the only one to hear it. Wherever he was. "I'm sorry."

She wrapped the rest of the tarp around him, obscuring him from view, then turned away. The ripple of unease that went through her warriors was palpable.

"Seal it." she demanded, breaking the awkward silence. "Then find a shovel. And a vehicle large enough to hold all of us. We will be leaving shortly."

The warriors looked shocked, turning to each other in utter confusion. Citra rarely ever left the temple. What was she up to?

Citra scowled, annoyed at the lack of immediate action. "Yes, you heard me right." she said, raising her voice. "Go! Now! Do as I say. We are not done here yet."

At the irritation in her tone they scattered like cockroaches to complete her tasks. Dennis was appalled. This seemed… so unlike the great warrior queen he knew and loved. "Citra, you are leaving the temple? Where are you going? It is far too dangerous out there to-"

"We are leaving the temple, Dennis." she interrupted. She turned and gazed down the dark hallway leading out of the temple's courtyard and into the wild, unforgiving jungle beyond. "Double up the patrols and station extra guards. We are going to Churchtown. I'll direct you exactly where to go from there."

Before he had the chance to question her further, she began striding confidently towards the exit. "That is an order."

An hour later found them all seated in a well-worn cargo truck and, with the lack of traffic, more than halfway across the island to Churchtown. Dennis was at the wheel, gripping it tightly enough to pale his knuckles, and Citra beside him in the passenger seat. Her arms and legs had been crossed firmly in front of her since they'd left the temple, expression tense as she stared straight ahead through the grimy windshield. Behind them in the canvas-shielded back of the truck sat the same faithful group of warriors with Vaas' coffin. They murmured uneasily amongst themselves, barely audible over the rumble of the engine. Several had scooted as far away from the coffin as the confined space would allow; though of course they knew he was dead, it was difficult to shake the borderline superstitious fear that Vaas was so evil Death itself didn't want him, and he'd very well claw his way out.

They all maintained a steady grip on their weapons, keeping a watchful eye out for any pirates – it wasn't uncommon for them to attempt to chase down or ambush Rakyat vehicles whenever they saw them. But they hadn't seen a single one the entire drive, hadn't heard any drunken shouts of obscenities from afar. The recent death of their leader had surely dissolved their system into chaos, and there was no telling where they might be or what they could be doing next. Either way, they didn't relax their guard for even a second. Not when their own leader was with them.

Another bumpy half-hour later they glimpsed the rusted top of the old water tower above the trees surrounding the town, and in minutes were passing the first few small, broken-down sheds that marked its outskirts. They eventually turned into decently-sized but clearly dilapidated homes that had once belonged to the "middle-class" residents. Citra stared through the windows, watched as they passed by the once beautiful church that'd given the town its name, now fallen into disrepair. She hadn't been through here in years, but she remembered it as a well-populated place full of nice people. It disappointed her slightly to see how drab and lifeless it'd become. She wondered if her childhood home still stood, someplace not too far outside of town, but didn't find herself wanting to find out.

Dennis began to slow the vehicle, but she reached out a hand and grabbed his shoulder. "No! Not here. We still have a short distance to go. I remember it."

He looked at her, and could see a spark of energy flickering in her blue eyes. She was absolutely certain of herself, and he knew better than to question her. He picked up speed again and left the town, heading back into the jungle. Citra seemed far more attentive now, leaning forward in her seat to examine their surroundings, searching for even vaguely familiar landmarks. They'd driven only a few minutes up the road when she suddenly pointed to a small path through the trees coming up on their right, just barely visible through the ferns that overlapped it. "Stop! Right there. That's it."

Dennis brought the truck to a sudden stop, causing the warriors seated in the back to jolt forward violently and give muffled curses of indignation. The path was dark and overgrown, leading as far back into the trees as they could see, and quite obviously too narrow for the truck to pass through.

"…We will have to walk from here." said Citra. She opened the truck door and stepped out, briskly smoothing her short leather skirt. "I'll lead the way. Stay close to me, and bring the shovel."

She waited as Dennis went around to the back to help the warriors unload the coffin and then motioned at them to follow. She set off down the dark, winding jungle path, trying to remain within sight of her weighed-down followers, headed by Dennis, aiding by warning them of obstacles they could trip over.

It didn't take long for the thick canopy to completely block out the sunlight, cooling the air and plunging them into dusk-darkness. The thin path was certainly far more overgrown than it'd been the last time Citra had wandered down it, but even though she frequently had to shift aside huge fern fronds and low-hanging vines so she could pass she still felt like her feet were guiding her of their own accord, leading her down this pathway she'd once traveled so frequently it'd become permanently ingrained into her memories. She felt more certain with every step – they were going the right way.

A few minutes later she could hear the faint rumble of water rushing across stone, could smell the slight tinge of salt in the air, and she smiled with something almost like excitement. "We are almost there!" she called over her shoulder to Dennis and the straggling warriors. The canopy was thinning out now, the sunlight streaming through in places and dappling the ground in front of her until she left the shadows of the trees completely. She squinted her eyes against the sudden light, shielded them with a hand. They'd arrived on the sandy shore of a small river inlet that at its mouth came in from the sea, surrounded on all sides by forest, except to their left, where the gaping mouth of the entrance to a large cave could be seen.

"This way!" Citra jogged just inside the opening of the cave, waiting for her companions to bring up the rear. She put out a hand to touch the side, cool against her palm, covered in a thin layer of moss. Just like it'd always been. It was like… coming home.

She almost forgot about the others as she set off for the end of the cave, the water flowing in from the inlet narrowing into a briskly-flowing stream beside her. It wasn't a long walk; a minute later she stood at its exit, taking in what she hadn't seen since she was a child.

It looked exactly how she remembered it, as beautiful and untainted as ever (though the old rope bridge had apparently finally collapsed some time ago). A large lagoon, hidden away from the rest of the world, the rumble of the waterfall's song as it rained down upon the rocks the only sound to be heard; the waterfall that thundered through the maze of small caverns that she and Vaas had once made their playground, their place of safety and peace from the hostility of the islands around them, and of their own family.

A soft sigh passed through her lips, and she clasped a hand over her heart. She could almost hear the laughter of her and Vaas' adolescent selves, ringing off the sides of the cliffs as they partook in one of their many games of make-believe. So lost in her emotions she was she again didn't notice Dennis standing right beside her. He stole a sidelong glance at her, and saw the misty, tearful look in her eyes as she gazed at the environment before them. He didn't say anything. She was in another place. Another time.

It took a couple of minutes for her to come back to herself. "It… it would be easiest for us to go around the lagoon, on top of the ridge here…" She pointed to their right, where the shelf of rock they stood on now extended into a thin, naturally-formed "path" along the cliff wall to the caverns on the opposite side. "The bridge is gone and the rocks in the water are a slipping hazard… come on, this way. We are almost there…"

She cast a brief look of longing down at the clear blue waters before again taking the lead. Part of her wanted nothing more than to sit down on those rocks, dip her feet in it and just lose herself for a while, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

It was tedious going to reach the other side on the mist-slicked pathway, but eventually they found themselves passing through the small intermingling caverns that Citra and Vaas had practically lived in as children. Their ceilings were not quite as accommodating for those of adult size, and they all had to lean forward slightly to avoid brushing their heads against them. She ran a steadying hand along the walls, the cool breeze passed along by the rumbling waterfall comforting against her skin. Her toe struck something loose jutting upward slightly from the ground; she looked down to see the hollowed-out body of a toy car, so heavily rusted and coated with moss that she could no longer tell what color it'd originally been. Either way, she knew in her heart – it'd once belonged to Vaas. She knelt down, tugged it free of the rocks, hugged it to her chest as she walked… the smallest remnant of a time she'd do anything to have back.

The caverns meandered to an end around the back of the cliff, opening upon a lush green hillside, the grass swaying gently in the warm afternoon breeze. The persistent, bittersweet nostalgia grew within Citra's chest as she began to follow it to the top, feeling like with every step she took she went a year back in time, until as she reached the crest of the hill she felt as though she were very small again.

The view hadn't changed a bit from the last time she'd seen it. The island and all the others beyond it spread out before her like a living tapestry, the ocean glittering in the sunlight so brightly she had to narrow her eyes against the glare. She hugged the degraded toy car tighter to herself, lost in contemplation at the last time she stood upon this cliff, in what felt like another lifetime.

Again she'd nearly forgotten her companions, huffing as they carried her brother's coffin up the hillside with aching arms and set it down behind her. She turned to face them as though surprised they'd actually followed her all this way, and as the one holding the shovel dug the blade into the damp soil to test its softness she held up a hand to stop him.

"I'll take it from here." she said, walking over and taking the shovel from his hands. "You are all free to wait back at the truck, or return to the temple if you so wish. I may be a while."

Dennis gaped at her in confusion. "Citra, please, let us handle it. You shouldn't trouble yourself with such matters, and what if you are ambushed up here on your own? It will take much less time if we all-"

"Dennis, please." She cut him off in irritation. "This… is between my brother and I. I should like to do this myself." She gazed down at the tomb of plywood and rusted metal, solemn and silent. "…He deserves that much."

At this point, Dennis knew better than to try and argue. Whatever unresolved turmoil existed between the two wayward siblings, it was clearly not for them to intervene in. He sighed and motioned to the tired troop of warriors to follow him back down the hill to the cavern path. "We will wait for you at the truck!" he called over his shoulder before they were out of sight.

Citra ignored him. She stood over the coffin, shovel in hand, feeling the harsh rays of the afternoon sun hot against her back, casting a long, dark shadow upon the corrugated surface.

After a few long moments, she forced herself to look away and thrust the blade of the shovel into the earth.

The sun was half sunken below the horizon before Citra patted the last shovelful of dirt back down atop her brother's grave. She was soaked in sweat, her muscles burning with exertion and the smell of fresh soil thick in her nostrils, but she scarcely noticed as she pushed herself to her feet and took in her handiwork: a patch of freshly-turned earth six feet long, four feet wide and just barely deep enough to comfortably contain the makeshift casket. It had taken longer than she'd expected; the ground had become quite hard the further down she'd dug, but the determination with which she'd faced the task had lent her the strength to see it through to the end. As the sky gradually deepened from orange to rich purple she used the light of the sun's last dying rays to gather a bundle of wildflowers from the grasses growing along the cliff, which she placed at the center of the grave, along with the old toy car, beneath a flat slab of rock she'd found embedded in the hillside and used as a marker, upon which she'd etched the following words with a small knife she kept on her person:

VAAS MONTENEGRO

1985 – 2012

LOST SOUL

BELOVED BROTHER

When at last she felt her work, her atonement, was complete, she sat beside her brother's final resting place to relieve her tired body, looking out across the islands, her kingdom, their kingdom, enormous shapes like slumbering giants gradually swallowed up by shadows. The sun was but a red smudge on the ocean's surface, which now reflected the deep blue-black of the vast night sky, and every one of the countless shimmering dots of light glittering across it that, once upon a time, a little girl and her older brother had looked to with bright eyes and beaming smiles.

Citra laid back upon the cool grass, him on the right and her on the left, and watched the stars.