Eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling.

  No longer could he distract himself with work and the medical check-ups he had drawn out as much as possible, probably for himself most of all, before everyone was given a clean bill of health and the epidemic was declared over, thanks to him, and now he had time, time to think, to wonder what if, and regret.

  However, his whirlwind of thoughts and guilt was cut short as the door opened with Split on the other side. Walking down the stairs and up to Kenneth, she looked down at him, “Wake up.”

  “I don’t have an appetite today,” he replied without moving a muscle.

  “Get up, we’ll be late,” she replied in a cold tone.

  In a mix of a sigh and a silent groan, he sat up, “I don’t care, none of us are eating that… food in the Grand Hall.”

  “The funeral is starting soon, get up.”

  Kenneth paused. Of course, there was going to be a funeral. How could there not be? But hearing it like this, he knew the deaths were real without a doubt, but even so, her saying it made him feel even worse.

  ‘I shouldn’t attend, it's my fault everyone died, I don’t have the right to be there. It would be cruel… a cruel joke, of me saying I did it and I am free as a bird.’ And yet he was in a cage, and he knew that well. ‘Wouldn’t it be easy to just stay here and hide, but then everyone would think without a shadow of a doubt I’m guilty.’

  It was no easy choice either way.

  He turned to Nokstella and Kolu, but they were sleeping peacefully. The sight filled him with jealousy and guilt, especially looking at Nokstella, but it didn’t stop him from waking both.

  “Wha papa…?” Nokstella yawned.

  “We got somewhere to be,” he sighed. “Let's get going.”

  “Not him,” Split was quick to say, looking down on Kolu.

  He understood clearly why he shouldn’t come along, but even so, “If I leave him here, can you say with absolute certainty no one would try anything while I was gone?”

  “No,” She replied in an instant, taking one last glance at Kolu before walking up the stairs and opening the door.

  The streets were all but barren, and up in the distance on top of the walls, only a couple of figures acting as lookouts could be spotted.

  As they walked down below, inside that narrow corridor, Nokstella looked up at Kenneth. “Papa, what trial?”

  He glanced at her for a moment.

  “It determines guilt or innocence,” Split answered.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Though Kenneth was uncertain if she asked what the purpose of the trial was or why he’d been put on one, but given how she looked up at him, he guessed the ladder, “It was because some people thought I had something to do with what happened the day before.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I guess it’s law, or tradition…” As he said the word, he grew a little nauseous but hid it. “But I am a little surprised why they didn’t just use someone with magic who can see someone else's memories. Though the trial would still have had to happen, I and that kind of magic don’t mix well.”

  “That can! Split lady who?!” Nokstella excitedly asked, hurrying down the stairs, trying to reach, only managing to grab the left tip of her tail, before Kenneth could react, causing her to stop.

  She looked back and stared at Nokstlla, who innocently looked up at her.

  A silence hung in the air for a moment before Split snapped her head around, “We don’t have any.”

  Below, it was quiet, yet the streets were filled with everyone, but barely anyone was speaking, only a couple of whispers in the air.

  ‘How… how many died?” Kenneth dreadfully questioned.

  Already, he was regretting his decision to be here, to look at each one, their faces, their scales. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t truly be this cruel and vile… he…

  “Papa,” Nokstella tugged on his leg. “Blue split lady go…”

  He should have corrected her and said she shouldn’t call her that bad, mocking nickname; however, he was a bit too surprised to remember as Split was just walking away, keeping to where the crowd was thinnest without even looking back.

  “Kolu, keep close and don’t let go,” he said, taking his hand and following along as fast as he could, carefully catching up to her. “Umm… did you just assume I was behind when you walked away?”

  “You are…”

  “I… mean yes, but…” Oh, he couldn’t even pretend to keep it up, as he just let the word fizzle out of his mouth and disappear in the wind.

  Following the congregating masses, it was obvious where everyone headed: the graveyard.

  Where once it was a place barely visited by more than a few, now it was surrounded, yet the masses kept their distance still.

  “Papa, what happen?” Nokstella asked, trying to stand on the flat tips of her toes, to see past the tall crowd, an endeavour that was fruitless as they stood all the way in the back.

  He looked to Split, “Could you explain to her?”

  “…”

  “…Are you okay?” He asked with a bit more concern in his voice.

  “What do you want?”

  “Could you perhaps explain what’s going to happen? Nokstella wants to know.”

  She looked down at her for a moment, then explained. “The dead will be brought out, words will be spoken, then they’ll join in Amito’s embrace.”

  “What word?” Nokstella innocently asked to deaf ears.

  “I think it’s about to start now, so keep your ears open,” Kenneth told her, to which she did.

  In the distance, the cloaked lone figure of Nokuji approached the dark pit that was the graveyard, though she was a bit hard to make out.

  However, he could distinctly and all too clearly see the bodies to the side, feeling his heart sink and insides twist, a little more with each one, ten in total, all wrapped up and bound in leather, probably to hide the visage and mangled condition of each body.

  ‘I… I… could have made them whole… if they had asked…’

  “People of Aboroli, we gather here at this most tragic time to bid farewell to mothers, daughters, and sisters, who bravely fought to protect us in our time of prayer against the heretics!”

  “I hear, not see,” Nokstella slightly complained. “Kolu, see?”

  “Nothing, I don’t even know what’s being said.”

  “I say,” Nokstella quickly replied in a shocked and helpful tone as she began to translate each word with her limited vocabulary.

  “Forever will their names be remembered, etched into the stone, their memory, not forgotten, for as long as her body remains!”

  Only now did Kenneth notice a couple of people behind Nokuji all the way in the back, holding tools and walking toward the stone railing and kneeling down, carving the moment she uttered the first name.

  “Nokvuola, Mother of six, daughter of two, and sister of four, proudly she served for many years, her body still young, fresh, and her time with us all too brief.” Her tone was low and voice high, reaching far and wide as the one’s carving finished. “Now that her memory is remembered, I ask her family and the ones she held dearly and loved to say their final farewell and send her into Amito’s embrace!”

  Part of the crowd up in front slowly walked forward, among them were adults, teens, and children, the youngest bawling their eyes out, the sound piercing Kenneth's eardrums, yet he watched.

  One by one, the family of over a dozen walked up to the corpse, most simply placing a hand on her chest, but one woman, with tears in her eyes, hugged her, and worst of all, Kenneth knew her.

  It was Nokkrik.

  She was such a kind woman, helping him with his trials, being so friendly and affectionate, treating him warmly, and this was what he gave her in return… pain.

  As she let go, the oldest people in the family all helped lift Nokvuola up and gently place her down for her body to be swallowed.

  While they waited for it to happen, no one said a word; the only sound was the cries of the children, mourners, or those too young to understand.

  Gritting his teeth and trying not to stand out, or appear as guilty as he was, tears easily escaped his eyes, looking no different from beads of sweat.

  Once it was over and the body was swallowed whole, the family returned to the crowd, and it was time for the next burial.

  However, this one would not be easier; if anything, with each name called, he saw firsthand the people he had hurt, and there was always someone he knew more personally than others.

  Nokkofka Nokalccha, Nokruko Nokandrite, Noktro Noksap, Nokjili Nokkibai, Nokleed Nokemera, Nokplini Nokrock, Nokhodoo Nokhavadoo, Nokteese Noksuza.

  Each one, little by little, weighed him down, making it harder and harder to keep up appearances, let alone stand on his feet. Yet the final nail in the coffin was when the last name was spoken.

  Nokhoopa, mother of none, daughter of one, sister of two!”

  As the last family approached, Kenneth recognized one in particular, a figure that made his heart sink as low as it could, Noksafgro.

  It was only then that he remembered and slowly turned to Split, his sweat turning to ice in dread, since it was her oldest daughter.

  ‘Of all… I’m so sorry,’ but despite the guilt growing to exponential new heights he never knew possible, he remained silent, staring at her and her family, the words right on his tongue. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry.’

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  Yet as they gathered, she didn’t move, not one step.

  “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” He asked, not completely sure why he did.

  “I’m not welcome.”

  “… she's your daughter… You have every right.”

  “…”

  “If you won’t do anything, I will.” In a flash, he picked up Nokstella and walked into the crowd, his smaller frame among these humongous ones, allowing him to more easily slip past, with Split having a harder time catching up. ‘Why am I doing this? Why am I making a scene? Do I really only want her to do what she needs to? Or do I want them to stare at me judgmentally?’

  Rime or reason didn’t possess him at that moment, only emotions that forced him to move forward to do the dumbest thing imaginable, the only thing stopping him force as Split roughly grabbed his arm.

  She didn’t say a word or make a sound, only held him firm right up until she noticed just how close she was to her daughter.

  Her scales grew paler, yet her eyes watched affixed on what was ahead, now so clear, and in view.

  Uttering not a word himself, he simply stepped aside, backing into someone as she slowly stepped forward, eventually exiting the crowd, receiving nothing but judgmental stares.

  He saw it clearly as she approached, her family, not one single person uttered a word, at her presence, perhaps out of respect for her loss, yet it was clear she wasn’t welcomed by any other than Noksafgro, but with his condition, it was hard to say if he was all there or not.

  With only a few steps before she reached her daughter, an older woman with rough, sagging, light grey scales that became lighter by the moment intercepted her. “What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t yell; however, her voice carried a cold, bitter tone.

  Split didn’t reply, taking another step, to which the older, angry woman knocked her to the ground with a heavy and hard sucker punch right in her gut.

  “Ieta not here and now,” a mature yet younger-looking man pleaded with the woman.

  “To think my daughter would be a disgrace. Worst of all, you don’t have the common sense to stay away from us, from her. You were never there, you don’t have any right…” as Split's own mother spoke so harshly at her, no other member of her family said anything, even who was probably her dad, didn’t object anymore. “Leave.”

  Slowly, Split rose up her mother, half turning away, done with her; however, she wasn’t leaving, taking another step toward her daughter.

  Angered even more, Ieta snapped back around and struck her in the chest, then the gut.

  Taking the abuse, Split never raising her hands to defend herself, pushing forward.

  Her mother did not relent, striking Split again, stomach, chest, and side.

  Another step forward.

  Right side, left side, chest, stomach.

  Yet another step forward.

  Gut, gut, gut, chest, gut, face, snout, snout.

  Bloody fangs flew everywhere as Split fell down on her knee, with labored breath, wobbling, as her mother glared down and spat on her.

  Yet she forced herself to stand up and take another step forward.

  Seeing red, Ieta might very well have aimed to kill her, side, shoulder, gut, chest, chest, gut, snout, snout, face.

  With one more step, Split finally stopped.

  For a moment Ieta must have thought she’d finally beaten some sense into her daughter, however Split had only stopped, becuase she had finally reached her daughter, and with trembling hands, either from the beating she’d just recived or hesitation, she placed her hand on her daughters chest muttering something before retracting it, leaving something she’d held in the palm of her hand.

  Livid Ieta was ready to throw another punch; however, the moment she saw what Split had left on Nokhoopa’s body, she froze, then lowered her hand and turned away from her.

  With more blood spilled than there ever should have been, the funeral proceeded in silence.

  “Thank the gods above and below, it’s over,” a voice Kenneth recognized in a dreadful heartbeat.

  He slowly turned his head, feeling sick to his stomach now that he was this close to Nokkrik; however, it got worse, since she noticed him too.

  Their gazes locked, her eyes puffy and red.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, gripping Kolu’s hand tightly, as he turned to leave; however, before he could, Nokkrik placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Guess it’s my turn to get beaten up.’

  “Why are you saying sorry?” She asked.

  “…I didn’t mean to disrupt you when you are mourning with your family,” he hesitantly answered in a low, quiet voice. “I don’t want to cause any problems.”

  “The only problem I or anyone else would have is with him,” she gestured to Kolu, who was still close by Kenneth’s side, quiet, staying as hidden as he could, not that it changed the people staring and whispering.

  “I know, but now more than ever I can’t leave him out of my sight,” Kenneth said, pulling him a little closer.

  “Then why come here? None of your kin died, many here are here only to see, scavengers,” she said with more spite than Kenneth ever imagined she could before catching herself and calming down. “… that… that isnt something ya… I think you would do.”

  “I suppose I was more here because of her, but still, if I stayed away, some might think I am ashamed, that I’m admitting guilt for their deaths. The trial is over, but that doesn't mean everyone will think I’m innocent.”

  He held his head low, unable to look her in the eyes, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

  “How could you even think I would think you guilty?”

  “…I, what?”

  “You have helped so many, even from what I hear, Nokset. You are kind, gentle, a good man, there’s no doubt in my mind, and I know many more who think the same, that you would never be responsible for this ugliness.”

  “Thanks for the kind words,” they hurt more than any punch ever could.

  It was about time to finish up for Splits' family, as they lowered Nokhoopa’s body into the mud, watched in silence, as Nokuji spoke the final part of the eulogy, and waited for them all to walk back into the crowd.

  Clearly in pain, Split was a bit slower, as she partly limped back over to Kenneth and pulled him back to the outer edge of the crowd.

  “Do you need me to take a look?” He asked, uncertain at a glance how serious her injuries were.

  She didn’t answer, only stopped at a certain point, and turned around, her heavy breathing the only noise, as everyone else was quiet, all looking to Nokuji as she raised her head, her snout pointing up.

  Like a wave, the crowd followed her lead, even Nokstella, despite not having been told to do so.

  Opening her mouth, Nokuji loudly began to hum in a deep, dark tone, “HOOOOOOHUHOOOHEHO!!!”

  The humming was repeated and followed by everyone, the sound echoing off the walls in the distance.

  “HOOOHUUUHEEEEHOOOOUUUHUUUHOHUEEEEEUUUHUHEOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  It began to grow in intensity, no longer just reaching the inner ear but the body as well, as if it had become an echo chamber, where the sound reverberated, from every angle. There were those who cried, those who fell on their knees, but no one ever stopped.

  This felt not solely as a ritual of mourning, but something more, something instinctual, primal, that words could never communicate, or capture, only be briefly felt by the gathering of all.

  And like the lives of thoes who had been taken away, slowly the sound grew weaker, one by one, people stopped singing, the sound that had once pierced the body and soul, now only left a hollow echo, a memoery of the feeling, perhaps as a way to imitate what the dead must feel now or as a way for all to understand the feeling of loss, how something was taken from them in an instant, leaving only sadness and silence.

  None uttered a word, not even the children, as all stood still, some with their hands clasped, others with their eyes closed, but staying, for a very long time.

  Yet eventually, little by little, people began to leave; the world still spun around, day would still become night, and life would go on.

  ‘It is no different, no matter the species,’ he knew that, but experiencing it as such was something different entirely.

  He wasn’t quite sure how long it had been since people began to depart, but he wasn’t going to be one of them, waiting around with Split as she just stood there staring.

  However, for one, the silence and waiting around didn’t quite suit her, “Papa, why song?”

  “It was strange,” Kolu added, confused more than anything.

  He could probably explain all the biological details extensively, and probably would have, but Split with a heavy sigh, answered her question. “It’s the song of the departed.”

  She began to walk, Kenneth following along, “Hold up a moment, let me check you out.”

  “No.”

  “What song do?” Nokstella interjected.

  “When we are enough, the song reaches them.”

  With those big vibrations they produced, Kenneth didn’t doubt that. “Where exactly are you headed to?”

  “Up.”

  “Up? Why up?”

  “…”

  She didn’t give an answer and refused to talk to him and Nokstella as she just led the way.

  ‘We were down there a while, it would seem,’ Kenneth thought, noticing the orange permeating hue as it neared a sunset.

  As they reached his residence, two brawny guards, one carrying a maze with triangular spikes on all five sides, and another with what looked like a chain and triangle, stood guard ready.

  “They will watch you now,” Split told him before departing.

  Sighing, he watched her walk away and turned to face the door. Both of the guards looked tough, despite one of them leaning up against the wall, half lying down due to the sloped surface, while the other eyed him up to see if she could take him in a fight.

  Smirking, she opened the door for him.

  Apparently deemed either too weak, he stepped inside, expecting them to follow; however, the door slamming shut with them standing outside clearly showed things were changing, but for now, things behind closed doors and relative safety, he finally placed Nokstella down and let go of Kolu's wrist.

  “Finally, that hurt.”

  “Papa, hold hard?”

  “Too hard, my hand might fall off,” Kolu said in a cavalier tone.

  “Papa strong,” Nokstella laughed.

  While they got to have fun, Kenneth, mentally exhausted, barely kept it together, as it was, slumping on the sand and closing his eyes.

  In the darkness, Jasha would bring him horror and pain. The only thing he could allow himself to be subjected to.

  “Papa?”

  She asked in a calm, almost sad-sounding voice. It didn’t matter if his eyes were open or not; she couldn't see them, and right now it was hard to look at anyone. “What is it?”

  “Blue Split lady sad.”

  “You shouldn’t call her…” He sighed, lacking the strength and motivation to finish his sentence. “Yes, she is. She’s lost her daughter.”

  “What we do?”

  “Listen, Nokstella… I know you probably want to help, but she’s dealing with a lot right now. It's best to give her some time and space.”

  “Papa…” Nokstella said, gently placing a hand on his hand. “Mama say when some gone, them who are still, they sad. We be close toghter; we let cry until stop. Sad, not so sad when with some.”

  Despite the less-than-perfect grammar, Kenneth understood what she meant, though saddened by the life she’d had before meeting her that he’d not even gleaned. ‘How should I tell her we can’t. Maybe, we aren't her family and she… needs to be with them…’

  Except her family was grieving, but without her. Right now, she was probably alone, with no one, and in pain.

  “You're right, Nokstella,” Kenenth sighed, hardly able to hide his tired and sad voice as he got to his feet and walked up to the door.

  Knocking, but when that didn’t get anyone’s attention, he resorted to pushing it open on his own, which got the attention of his new guards, the one with the ball and chain, opening the door but blocking the exit with her body.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to take a shit.”

  Looking annoyed more than anything, the pair escorted him, both walking behind him; however, their short walk took an abrupt stop.

  “That ain’t the toilets ya know,” the one with the mace told him.

  “Do you care if it’s the toilets or here?” He asked them, not caring for the answer, as he walked over and slowly got the door open and walked inside.

  Sitting up against the wall, her eyes followed them as Nokstella dragged Kolu with her.

  He, however, after closing the door, slowly walked up and sat down beside her.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Why?”

  “…Isn’t it obvious?”

  For a moment, he wondered if the guilt had finally gotten to him so much that he just wanted to get caught.

  “It was the price I paid, and the pain to follow.”

  ‘Guess she took it some other way,’ he sighed. “I wouldn’t have imagined your mother of all people--”

  “She had every right to.”

  “Almost killing you?”

  “I’ll live.”

  “…you can’t know that for sure. I could mention a hundred ways you could be in the process of dying right now without realising it.”

  “The price was worth it.”

  “…If you say so.”

  “If you are done, you can leave.”

  “…”

  He was tempted to.

  “I noticed you left something on her body. What was it?”

  “A necklace.”

  “I assume it’s significant since it made your mother stop beating you.”

  With a distant downward stare, she explained. “She made it when she was seven on my hatching. Now, she was a guard, but back then she wanted to be a sculptor, or stonemason, something to do with rock, even clay, if she wanted something easy, she said. Arriving home from a hunt, she greeted me the moment I walked inside and gave it to me. It was the head of a beast, which one I could not tell, the proportions wrong, and the stone jagged and rough.”

  “Knowing you, I’m guessing you said the least you could.”

  “I have told you.”

  “…oh, I guess she took that well.”

  “No she cried and ran to my father and mother. I had killed her desire to cut stone as quickly as the beasts I brought home. When her hatching came around, my parents gave her paint, new clothes, and I gave her a head, so she knew what to sculpt. She was scared of how ugly it looked, and cried, too upset to even receive any more presents. Her crying was… annoying, so loud.”

  “And the necklace.”

  “She threw it away, but I found it and kept it. Whenever I remembered I had it, I would hear her crying, so often I wanted to throw it away, but I never could. Even when I became a disgrace, and she grew to hate me more, I never could; I only held onto it tighter. And it’s gone, and I… I can’t remember it anymore, what she sounded like…”

  Kenneth just stayed silent. For what could he even say?

  “WAWAWAWA!”

  Having listened to the conversation, Nokstella began to cry, or at least imitate that sound, but as quickly as she’d begun, she stopped noticing the expression on Split's face didn’t change. Instead, she simply walked up to her, dragging Kolu along, and gave her a hug.

  ‘Must have learned it from Nokstel.’

  Somewhat confused as to what to do, but despite the language barrier, probably understood the broad strokes, Kolu, in an intimidating manner, tried to comfort Split as Nokstella was.

  Slowly she reached her hand down and for a moment Kenneth thought she was going to push them both away, but instead she wrapped her arm around both, looking down, in, if Kenneth had to guess a regretful maternal manner.

  She never showed much emotion, but now they were on display with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Was it you or her who chose to come here?”

  “Both actually,” he replied, turning to her.

  Slowly, he raised his arms and wrapped them around her in a gentle hug, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

  No words were shared or spoken from that point on; there was only silence as all of them stayed like that. And in those moments, offering her comfort as she rested her head on his shoulder, only one thought passed through his mind, ‘I truly am cruel.’