He can still feel the Light.
Like the dew dripping down his brow and onto Pahanin’s pale cheek, drained of Light and life both. It’s warm. The Garden is always warm (because it grows grows grows in every way he looks and he can feel it beneath his feet, calling him to grow with it).
He moves them. To the crest of a waterfall, high enough to see in any direction they would ever (never-ever-never-again-and-again) choose. It’s the least he can do. It’s all he can do, his mind slowly turning from conscious stream-of-thought-desire-emotion and to Directive, to Cause, to What He Is Meant To Do As Who He Chose To Become.
Kabr feels the Light.
Like the creak of his joints. Bone and brass rubbing painfully in his right elbow as he lifts Praedyth’s limp body in his arms. As he arranges the pieces of their Ghosts in each of their hands.
He wants to cry for them. He wants to cry for them all, but he suspects his tear ducts have already been scrapped out, it’s already so hard to move his eyelids. Instead he cradles his own Ghost in his hands. A vine slowly grows to curl around its shell from the cut in his palm.
Kabr remembers Praedyth telling him once, whispering under the night like a secret. That he’d Wished. Wished for them to never end.So Kabr will not let them end. He will not let them be lost.
Kabr does not feel the Light anymore.
Had some spirited screams with @gileonnen on twitter earlier about a 'what if the VoG trio took the place of the Kentarch crew as the Garden trio' scenario because Gil always has good ideas and this came of it