Classes had been cancelled at the Academy for the day while preparations were made for the funeral. The Academy students went their own ways, trying to process what was going on. Some were saying a Halcyon had taken his own life. Others were convinced that he had been murdered. Regardless of what one believed, Death had struck the clan at their very home, and certain illusions of safety were crumbling down.
Khalon and Sesna were sitting together at a bench in front of the main Academy entrance. They held each other in an embrace born not of affection, but of fear. They both knew that what they were doing was not lasting, but in times of grief, they both needed companionship, and they found a quiet solace in each other.
Kaikorero opted to remain in her dorm, tinkering with her tools and gadgets. She frowned as she tweaked the gears in her cybernetic leg. She was no stranger to death. Growing up on the prison planet of Belsavis had forced her to confront her own mortality at a very young age. She had allowed herself to move past that, feeling that signing on with the Halcyon clan would protect her from the life she had before. But the galaxy can be a cruel place, and no amount of distance can escape it.
If Nila-Om was feeling anything, she did not show it. Behind the mask she wore, none could tell what she was thinking. However, her actions betrayed her sense of security. At her desk, imported from Voss, she was gathering a series of papers and files she had taken from Reeve's command center. Her inquisitive mind felt that perhaps Reeve had been researching something that was proven dangerous, and she wanted to know what that was.
Zhejari had disappeared. When the news broke, he scanned the faces of his fellow students to gauge their reactions, and then quickly departed. Unseen, he hid away on the roof of the Academy, overlooking the entrance. He tortured himself up there, brooding and dwelling on his darkest and most painful thoughts. It was the only way he knew to escape this overwhelming feeling of helplessness.
Fiachra, however, had no coping mechanism for this sort of situation. This world, this life was all still so new and frightening, sometimes it felt that no one around her could relate to her at all. She walked the Academy grounds alone, slowing making her way towards the cliffside waterfalls where she often found solace. She liked the sounds of the birds playing the water, and the spritz of moisture that kissed her skin when she stood close to the falls. She sat at the edge of the cliffside, her feet dangling over the high drop-off. Here, alone with nature, she felt a small measure of peace.
She had forgotten, however, that she was not the only one who enjoyed this quiet little hideaway.
"Hey kid."
The voice startled her, and she jumped in fright. The ground shifted beneath her sudden movement and felt herself sliding along the path of the falls. A cry of despair escaped her lips as she realized what was happening. She closed her eyes and cursed herself for giving her peers a second body to mourn.
"Woah there! Hang on!"
And as quickly as it had appeared, the sinking feeling of dread in her stomach disappeared. The ground beneath her was stable again. She opened her eyes to find herself cradled by what appeared to be a massive tree root. She looked around in wonder, and found herself suspended over the waterfalls, several feet from the edge where she had dangled her feet. It was as though when she fell, the trees themselves had reached out to catch her. "How?"
She looked up to find the strange man from the other night standing near the falls, clutching his staff with both hands. The worried expression on his face faded as he realized that she was okay, and with a wave of his hand, the root of the tree began to contract, lifting her and gently setting her down back on the solid ground. Fiachra watched in amazement as the root released her and settled itself back into the ground at its former resting place. Never before had she seen such a unique display of power.
"Hey, I'm sorry kid. I didn't mean to startle you. Do me a favor and don't tell anyone that you almost died cause of me, okay? That might not go over well." The man who saved her life, Bersk, he had called himself, crossed his legs on the ground in front of her. "You alright?"
Fiachra nodded. She suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment for running away from him the other night. In a plight of humiliation she nearly ran again, but forced herself to sit across from him. He had just saved her life. He deserved better than to be treated like a troll, even if his ragged appearance bore certain similarities.
She nodded. "Thank you, I'm sorry." A flush of red in her cheeks. What do you say in this situation? Thank you for saving my life, sorry I treated you like a monster?
Bersk looked at her carefully, watching her eyes dart back and forth as the thoughts raced through her mind. "Yeah, I know that look. Here." He pulled a flask from his robe and offered it to her. "Drink."
Hesitantly, she reached out and took the flask. It smelled terrible, and she suppressed a gag. She looked at him, uncertain.
"It's okay. Drink it." He nodded.
Fiachra steeled her nerves and took a swig of the foul-smelling liquid. The drink hit her mouth like fire and burned all the way down. She covered her mouth with her wrist as she offered the flask back to its owner. "It's terrible."
Bersk laughed. "Yeah, yeah it really is. But it helps." He took a swig and tucked the flask back into his dirty robes. "You holding up okay, kid?"
She nodded carefully. "Someone died."
The older man frowned. "Yeah, that's no good, is it? Reeve was a nice guy. Think everyone here liked him."
"You knew him?" Fiachra found herself warming up to this filthy creature. Underneath the dirt and moss and...was that actual dung on his shoes? Anyways, underneath the mess, there was a kindness, a warmth that Fiachra had not known. For the first time in a very long while, she felt safe.
"I did, sort of. He came out here and had lunch with me once or twice. Nice guy. Brought me herbs from off world. Considerate." He nodded towards her. "You ever meet him?"
She shook her head. "No."
He watched her carefully. "You don't make friends all that well, do you?"
She looked down and shook her head again. "No."
He considered this for a moment, and then conceded. "Yeah, me neither." He rose to his feet. "But if you ever need to get away, come back to this place. You'll be welcome here. Just watch the ledge, alright?" He extended a hand to help her up.
She took his hand, which felt like the outside of a grimy work glove, grainy and oily. There was a quiet honesty in the way he helped her to her feet. She felt that perhaps both of them needed a friend after all.
"Come on now," he said. "They are almost ready to begin."
Night fell over the Academy, and the funeral procession began.
Not a word was spoken aloud, but a quiet reverence overtook the grounds. Hundreds of guests had arrived to pay their respects. The Order of Mercy had arrived in full force to show their support. Several select members of the Republic SIS had been allowed to visit the Academy for the occasion. And of course, all of the Halcyons from around the galaxy assembled to send off one of their own.
The Dawnbreakers had polished their armor to a ceremonial shine, the familiar white and gold color scheme providing a sense of order, of stability to the proceedings. They carried the ceremonial pall box that held Reeve's body through the halls of the Academy, allowing everyone present to take a moment to say goodbye, to lay down a note, to offer a final gift. They carried him up the steps of the training grounds, where the funeral pyre was prepared. Flanking the pyre, the Halcyon Clan waited with heads bowed in respect.
It was strange for the students, to see them all gathered here in one place. These were leaders of the clan they had joined, the warriors and the poets, the soldiers and diplomats, the Light and the Dark united together to mourn their loss. The six students huddled together, watching in awe as Reeve was set upon the pyre.
No eulogy was offered. A good man had passed, and what words would ease that pain? After a moment of silence, Michael Halcyon, Headmaster of the Academy and First of the Halcyons, stepped forward and lit the fire.
It burned for hours, long after the guests had been dismissed and the students sent to the dorms. After the fire died, Bersk would gather the ashes and set about returning Reeve to the soil. Only the Halcyons remained, standing a watchful vigil over their fallen brother, and preparing themselves for the future.
It had finally happened. A Halcyon had died. And nothing would ever be the same.