“Hey dad, it’s Z-…I mean, it’s Victoria.” Zirdalen whispers, her hands clasped at her front. “Sorry I took so long to get here; you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get someone to sell me a horse so I could make the trek up,” she snorts with a half-smile. “You know, I can’t help but think of what you told me every time you found out I was playing in the outskirts. ‘If you keep going that far out, one day you’re gonna get snapped up and that’ll be it!’” Exhaling sharply, she makes her best attempt at a smile. “Guess you weren’t wrong about that.”

Zirdalen kneels down, placing a corpse-pale hand on the soil. A subtle, pale green glow emanates from her hand, and a moment later the snow-haired woman breathes out a sigh of relief. “Good…glad you’re still here. I bet you’d probably be upset about me doing that. Or a lot of things I’ve done since I left…you probably weren’t expecting one of your kids to grow up into a corpse-toned skeleton-lover, I bet.” Swallowing hard, Zir glances back at one of her osteal guardians; freshly risen from one of the many who fell here, it clutches a worn, rusty farming scythe while scanning the surroundings for any approaching threats.

“That one’s named Franklin. Yeah, after him…The first skeleton I raise is always the one I need the most. So I’ve got someone at my back no matter what; just like him. I wish I had more memories of the…the real Franklin; but I’ll take what I can get. He always used to poke fun at me for being short, right before he’d help me up to get something off a shelf.” Zirdalen takes a moment, pursing her lips before continuing, her voice beginning to crack. “And he was so eager to help you board up the house when the undead came too close for comfort—Hell, I bet he would’ve been ready to fight them right at your side.”

“I’m sorry, you know. That one day, I just…I couldn’t believe George was dead. He was the last of us other than me; I did the best I could, dad. He just wouldn’t eat anything…” Her head bows as her hair falls past her face, gripping the earth tightly. “He must’ve gotten the same thing that mom did. Believe me, I would’ve given anything to not have him waste away like that. It’s just…I didn’t know what to do anymore. With all of you gone, I…”

It’s a few minutes of near-silent sobbing before she manages to sniffle away the last few tears, finding her voice again. “It’s, it’s strange you know. Every day I use my skills to bring the dead back, but it’s all just imitations. Sirkotu was clear on that from the start; true resurrection is not the realm of necromancy. At best, it’s just an imitation. But I still kept thinking, what if she was wrong? What if there was some way to do it? To bring you all back, so you could have a life like I do now?”

“I was thinking that, even if I didn’t realize it until I got here. I’m probably the only one from the village still alive, and definitely the only one who could come back here safely. No one’s been here to plant wildflowers at the graves…It’s like Sirkotu always says: ‘All things grow, and all things die.’” Zirdalen lifts a hand from the earth, reaching out to one of those blossoming flowers with a ginger touch. “This is just the next phase in the cycle. That’s why we can’t bring you back…it’d be mean to the flowers.” At that, she can’t help but start snickering, until the pale-haired woman is full-on laughing in the middle of the graveyard, having to wipe her face just to regain her composure. As she settles down, she looks back to her father’s grave with a soft smile.

“I’m glad you’ve been able to rest, at least. Don’t worry, I’ll put these two back to rest before I leave. Better than I found them too, to thank them for letting me borrow their bones for a bit.” With a heavy sigh, Zirdalen pushes herself up, brushing her knees off with a lingering look towards the ruined shell of what used to be her home. “I think I might be the only one other than Sirkotu who still knows there used to be a village here…maybe there can be another one here someday. But until then…” Zirdalen bows deeply, shutting her eyes in quiet contemplation for a moment before straightening back up. “Rest well, dad. Say hello to everyone for me.”