"Hahah!" Ardreth laughed. "I was just out on a regular patrol. It was just for three hours."

"You've been gone for five hundred years," She smiled softly.

"Don't joke like that," Ardreth's smile tightened.

"As you wish," She smiled. "Take the kids home, I would like to pick up a few herbs for lunch, my Sun."

"Yes," Ardreth said softly. "I-I'd like that."

His heart hurt. Her words resonated through his being. He felt there was some truth to that when she said that. He quickly dismissed it, wholeheartedly looking forward to her cooking. He shepherded his little kids onto his mount's back before he and everyone else walked into the city.

The High Elf watched them go on for a few moments before her eyes turned to out of the city. There stood a slender human, with hard golden eyes and white hair.

"Thank you," She smiled. "For bringing him home."

Cyril's eyes glared at Ardreth's back as it melded into the crowds.

"I know it was hard for you to do," The woman said.

"I wanted him to burn," Cyril growled.

"You could have done so, your Worship," The wife said. "But you let him go."

"I did it for you and your kids," Cyril's voice began to soften. "I saw his memories, I saw what they did to you."

"Yes," The woman's smile didn't fade as she bowed.

"Yes..." Cyril said as she tempered her breath. "I also saw that..."

Cyril couldn't say it.

"Yes, your mother is - was here," The woman turned to the city. "This city was her shrine, and also her home. She walked the streets amongst us, told us of her life, and yours. She told us to never forget you. And we didn't."

"I want to ask you more about my Mother," Cyril said as she fought against that, but even more. She needed to know that letting that draugr go meant anything. "Will you find peace now?"

"Maybe," The elf turned back to Cyril. "Heaven was destroyed, and thus, there is no longer an afterlife. We are but a murmur lost in the cosmos. Of a place of power that only exists for your mother loved us so."

"I see," Cyril said. "I won't take up your time."

"Thank you," The Elf went to her knees gracefully before tapping her head against the ground. "You are as sweet as your mother told us you were."

The woman turned, her eye looking up to the large lush tree that scraped the sky. With a breath of relief, the elf took a single step. Then another. With each step, the city faded away. The walls crumbled and the three slowly withered before the city faded into the void.

— ? —

Cyril found herself staring down at the ash-covered snow. Grey dust that was slowly turning black. Her heart ached with a myriad of emotions that conflicted, and her thoughts slowly began to settle. Her mercy had been repaid with information. Information that changed her whole outlook on what was to be. Then she remembered Priscilla. She turned on her heel and walked listlessly across the broken stones.

A single black skeleton stood there, a flicker of intelligence grew in its eyes and stepped aside. Cyril only stopped next to it, wondering if it wanted to continue the battle. She didn't have it in her to do so, though. The skeleton bowed with a deftness the other one never had before it crumbled into a heap. The blackness melted away into wisps of smoke that traveled high into the brightening sky.

Cyril felt heavy. Empty. Thus, she continued on.

The cathedral's insides were black and it smelt of burnt flesh. Very few bodies had been left in the wreckage of the battle, and very little of the interior had been left unburnt. What wasn't burnt was covered with blood. She crossed the hall, her heels tapping against the malformed stone floor until she reached Priscilla and Bishop Luis.

He looked up at her and gasped. Cyril only looked down at them with tired eyes.

"How is she...?" Cyril asked as she slowly sat next to Priscilla.

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"She's going to live," Bishop Luis said, his eyes eyeing Cyril's face and her wings. "I do not know if she will walk again. Stronger magic is needed to heal it properly, but I did what I could. I pray that it was enough."

"Good enough..." Cyril whispered.

She slipped her arms gentle under Priscilla, just to get her off the cold stone floor. She cradled her in her lap, her eyes looking down at the large ghastly scar. It looked like a massive burn sky on her stomach. The teen's face was pale as well and she looked pained. Cyril rocked her back and forth and began to sing. Softly. Gently.

Because she failed to keep her promise to her. Because her friend was hurt. Because she was a failure, and it was all she could do right now to atone for that sin...

So she sang, a little song called "Tomorrow will be kinder".

Because... She could only hope it would be...