World Filter

A dull, thumping pressed behind Mark’s eyes sending waves of pain through his skull in time with the beat of his heart. The migraines had become more frequent over the last three days, since the raising of the spire.

From the moment they got back so many things were vying for their attention that it was hard to stay afloat. People, Corrupted, spires, and more, there was no end.

They had to find the death toll and try and reunite lost families and friends, which was a logistical nightmare in its own right. At the same time, they had to repair the damaged infrastructure, cut powerlines, leaking water mains, and unstable buildings.

Mark had not yet slept even a wink since returning from the spire, choosing instead to hit himself with [Invigorate] whenever he felt himself flagging. Which he did now to force back the pounding in his ears. Even when they had their people more or less mollified, the culprit of all of this damage still loomed over them, its evening shadow blocking out the last rays of the sun. Of course, the existence and uncertainty of the spire was another problem. Because while it was still one big question mark, the opportunists were already sniffing around its base.

As luck would have it, one of the entrances to this massive mystery, fell smack dab in their territory. The other was on the opposite side, already claimed by the Loyalists.

They had decided to enlist the aid of Lisa and Nathan, making a formal request to NAS to help secure the gateway against any outside influences. Trust was a strong word, but for now, they believed they could count on NAS not to pull the rug out from underneath them.

At least until they all understood what was going on, Lisa had earned that much when she came hobbling back into their territory after escaping the carnage. However, she still had questions that Mark didn’t have the answers to yet.

Besides all the work getting thing back into order, Mark had been non-stop healing since all of this began. He was still trying to gather what remained of his team. Unfortunately, less than twenty percent of his trained healers remained. Carl had become Mark's right-hand man as they attempted to put out as many fires as possible.

Karter and Ethel dealt with the sudden overcrowding as the massive influx of people they had protected during the battle were demanding sanctuary and entrance into their Order. In a single night, their numbers had more than tripled, and while still not enough to compare to either NAS or the Loyalists, it would certainly make other factions think twice.

Sam had brought Donny back to Mark, but he had yet to wake up. The combination of Grace’s magic and whatever the spire had done to him had left Donny in a dangerous state, right now Mark had someone watching over him full time and to notify him should anything change.

Amongst all this order, Mark's mind remained a mess. Using the busy work of the faction like a shield Mark tried to keep himself occupied because if he ever stopped to think for too long, something would pop up that reminded Mark of her. It was one of the reasons he was currently sitting on the single remaining bar stool with his equipment packed away. Cracking the seal on the third bottle of whiskey, Mark watched the preparations for the ceremony going on outside.

The real reason Mark had not yet grabbed even a couple of hours of sleep, was because of the pain-stricken faces that flashed through his mind every time he closed his eyes. And none were so powerful as Daphne's gentle smile. When he’d woken from the Corruption, the warmth in his chest had all but vanished. As though burning themselves up to pull him from the darkness. But now he had nothing, he didn’t even want to open his system because of the prompts that were no doubt there.

As the last couple of days had blurred past and they had rapidly reorganized their territory, one final thing remained. The funerals, Sam and Ethel thought it a good idea to have a ceremony to honor the dead and lost. For every departed soul that had paved the way for their family and friends.

Mark was for the idea, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Daphne had been the face of their Order, her charismatic presence had drawn many followers and admires to her side, so a private funeral was not something Mark had the right to. This was the loss of one of their pillars and their people wanted the chance to pay their respects.

This didn’t make it any easier on Mark and had the glass of amber liquid pausing at his lips. Someone had entered the desolate bar from the lobby.

“It’s time Mark. If you want to say a private goodbye before we begin then you have to come now.”

Getting his body moving again Mark gulped down the last mouthful of burning courage and placed the glass down, ice clattering against the glass.

When he turned around he saw Sam with red puffy eyes, her strength masking her sorrow.

Swallowing, Mark got up and adjusted the tie around his neck, having not resisted Ethel when she’d handed him the suit.

Walking towards the door Mark’s arm slung around Sam's shoulder, though he wasn’t sure who was comforting who. Together they walked out into the street, into the heavy silence.

The cloud cover was still ash grey and the streets were just starting to fill with snow, but that was barely noticed when they got to the site of the funeral.

A small plaza was lined with neatly arranged corpses under covers. Some carried bouquets people had scrounged together, while others held letters or trinkets of the dead. The buildings in this area were low and those who weren't walking through the rows of neatly arranged corpses were crowding on top of the roofs.

Burying their people had become impossible when the Corrupted were frequently seen defiling shallow graves to get to the rotting bodies.

They made their way down the street until they got to the center of the plaza where a large opening had been left.

Just before that, Mark spotted a small area where a screen had been set up made from thin material.

Sam pulled him toward the curtain and they stepped through. Several bodies were here, people who had held public positions or were well-liked in that many people wanted to say their goodbyes. Mark spotted Abby, Metayo, Tommis, and Cara. Surrounded by them all was Daphne. When he saw her body, he almost stopped walking, but Sam pulled him forward. Mark wanted to rip his hand from hers and run away, but he swallowed down the lump and followed.

Kneeling next to her, Mark couldn’t say or do anything at first as Sam let go but didn’t leave his side.

He just stared at Daphne's face as his world shook. The memories he’d been repressing for the last couple of days came unbidden. This time Mark let them, he let the pain and sorrow wash over him as he shook. The world went blurry for a time and when he blinked away the emotion, he rested a hand in hers.

As though the little warmth Mark had left, could transfer to her and he’d see color flushing her cold cheeks once more.

Time passed as Mark worked through the hole in his chest, and by the time Sam rested a hand on his shoulder he was just strong enough to retract his hand from Dahpne’s.

The goodbye was silent, but it was all he could manage.

Getting up he saw Sam had been crying again, but she wiped the tears hastily and showed a smile.

She had already said her goodbyes, so Mark moved from person to person and whispered his thanks to each of them, finishing with Abby.

Leaving the area was both heartbreaking and comforting, it was what Mark needed.

The moment they were out, the screen was removed, but Mark didn’t look back. Instead, he searched the plaza and saw Jonathan standing with Ethel and Karter in the open area of the plaza.

They were all dressed in black and wore stoic expressions.

People had gathered by now and Jonathan stepped forward to address them and give them parting words.

Mark could see the guy was pale and his eyes kept staring out over the corpses, but he finished their words to everyone resolutely.

“So regardless of creed or belief, let this be a time of new beginnings. We will blaze a path through this world and survive no matter the odds. We will step forward and we will triumph. Mark, Samantha, if you please.”

Falling into sync with Sam now was child’s play, so when Mark activated [Joint casting] their Mana’s merged, and a large open space behind them began to shift as grains of black sand collected in the air.

They built onto one another as a cube of black marble began to take shape, growing until it was the size of a small house. With their remaining Mana, Mark etched a tiny name into the marble.

‘Daphne Colt’

Below it appeared another name.

‘Cara Stax’

Earth reached up from the ground in the shape of a human hand, taking both of them to create a detailed sculpture. The cube was lowered into the waiting grasp of the lifelike statue.

When they were done, over a hundred casters came forward and began etching tiny names into the massive cube one by one. While this happened people continued to move around the plaza saying their goodbyes, sometimes passing the names of their loved ones onto the casters to engrave.

The evening moved on and the cube slowly filled up with every life lost in the last battle and when those were done. The names of those lost in the explosion, and then the battle with the Firestarters. Their expedition to the city, and even those who’d fallen on the walls of Prospects Park.

It would take days but every name would be slowly imprinted on the cube for everyone to see.

Then when Sam’s Mana was full she extended her arms outwards and flames fanned out into the night sky. Turning the gloom of the street lamps into an ocean of blue and orange flame. Anyone with fire spells or skill joined in, and for a couple of hours the streets in the Order of the Sage burned brightly.

When the light and smoke cleared the only thing to remain after the raging inferno was ash, as it drifted away on the late night air.

****

Mark thought he would feel lighter after the cremation, but he didn’t, he felt just as miserable. The closure was nice, but it didn’t help him with the reality that she was gone.

Mark currently sat with his legs dangling over the edge of their rooftop, work file in hand. The destruction was already repaired up here, but now it just felt empty.

He was leaning on the surviving cherry tree, its trunk scared and full of nicks, leaving the planter bear with the loss of its partner.

He was going over the perimeter reports, but his eye kept falling over the same line, rereading it until the words began to lose meaning.

The pulsing behind his eyes was back, and Mark could feel four solid days of activity were starting to take their toll, not to mention the number of times he’d almost died.

Mark caught the drop of blood trickling from his nose just in time to prevent it from staining another document, forcing his heavy eyes to refocus as he wiped it away.

He could feel them almost as soon as they made their way up the staircase. Sam had long since dropped the link connecting the three of them but something had remained. Nothing concrete, Mark was just more aware of their presence than he had been before.

Sam came to sit by Mark, while Jonathan stood a couple of steps away. The guy had been keeping his distance from Mark since they got back. Almost as though he were wary. Mark couldn’t blame him and he knew from the time they were connected, that Jonathan was suffering with some changes to his body. But the guy seemed determined to keep it to himself, and Mark had not managed to broach the subject yet.

Sam’s words drew him back to reality.

“Mark, sweetie. You have to go get some rest.”

Her tone was soothing, but Mark felt himself bristle.

“I’m fine. Really. I’ve got my energy to keep me awake.”

For a moment she didn’t say anything but Jonathan snorted.

“Goddammit Mark, just go get a couple of hours of shut-eye, you look like absolute shit.”

Mark felt the anger rising in his chest, but it was muted like he was forcing it. He’d been so angry since Daphne had died, it was as though his emotions were burnt out.

Sam looked over at Jonathan with a frown and then back at Mark.

“I’ll take care of this, come let's get you to your room.”

Mark started to shake his head but Sam produced a keycard.

“This is a spare of your original room, come.”

She gently pulled the file from his hands and got him to his feet. Mark had been avoiding ‘their’ room like the plague, and Sam must have noticed that.

Moving towards the door was slow, and only now did Mark realize just how far he’d pushed his body. Aches and pain slowed him to a crawl, but when Jonathan could take their snail’s pace no longer, he grunted and pulled Mark's arm over his shoulder.

At that point, Mark's vision was becoming cloudy and the last thing he remembered was Sam opening the door for them before a dreamless sleep overpowered him.