Frost coated the grass in a fine, white coat. It travelled the length of the cemetery, climbed over tombstones and memorials and cast them in an icy glow. Even from a certain altitude Magnus made out the procession of flowers and cards that formed a shrine around Charles’ grave. It never failed to instil a sense of quiet fury, a reminder of how capricious the world could be.
He floated over the trees, having flown across several states to reach the burial site of his friend. It didn’t matter how far or how long he needed to travel. He dropped everything in a heartbeat to be here. As he crested a swathe of alders the stone sculpture placed next to the grave appeared to him. He highly doubted Charles would’ve wanted a statue but he’d no say in the matter.
Magnus landed, eyes fixed on the cold slab of stone. He ran his hand across it, bowing his head. “The world has become a darker place, Charles. Our people have been brought to the brink of extinction once again. I’m trying to walk the line between your philosophy and my own but I fear I’m slipping.”