For Whom the Belle Tolls

by Jaysea Lynn

attempting to use her as a hostage. A demon

“I’ve been the master of Hell from the beginning, since before it was known as Hell,” he began, a strange double-timbre quality to his voice. “I have seen all the worst monsters that humanity has thus far produced. Yet the monsters who prey on children remain among the vilest.”

Yell it for the people in the back!

threshold of the door before she hit an invisible barrier that stretched

Seeing herself as unimportant was safe. Unimportance was safe, being a disappointment was safe. There were no expectations, no standards, no more pedestals to fall from.

Relatable honestly

“You are lovable,” Lily said gently but firmly. “You are lovable. You always have been, and you always will be inherently—that means ‘naturally’—easy to love. Despite what happened to you in your mortal life, you are not easy to hurt. You are not easy to leave behind.”

We all need to hear this. Parents tell your kids this!!

Be safe Stay together Defend all Stay happy Come home Find peace

My beloved son… He’d had to stop, tears blurring his eyes so that he couldn’t read. He could hear him, his voice as deep as Bel’s but with a slightly different tone and an older pattern of speech. Memories long repressed swam to the surface, sparked by those three words. My beloved son. Spoken through laughter because Bel had successfully pranked him. My beloved son. Spoken with exasperation after he’d been told Bel flew through the tower window. My beloved son. Spoken with such pride whenever Bel mastered a new maneuver or was promoted. My beloved son. Spoken quietly and softly as he’d tucked Bel into bed.

Excuse me I just need a minute 😭

Keep your courage. The memory did not crush him. Just as the crown would not.

Another thought occurred to Lily, memories of feeling responsible for her parents’ emotional state. Oh, how she’d wished someone had explicitly freed her of that responsibility then. “But, Sharkie? Just so you know, it’s not your job to take care of either of them. They’re grown men, and you are a child—our child—even if you are growing up. Kids shouldn’t have to take care of their parents like parents take care of their kids. Absolutely be there with him, spend time with him, all of that, but it’s not your job to make him happy or feel better, okay?” Sharkie nodded slowly, pinkie finger tightening around Lily’s. “We get through things together, not just because of one of us, yeah?” “Yeah,” Sharkie said, eyes brightening a bit. “So, with that in mind, you can talk to Luci and see if he wants company today, or you can hang out with me and Bel, or you can do whatever you need to in order to process and be okay with all this. I know it’s a lot.” “I think… I want to talk to Luci. Not,” Sharkie said with a bit of relief in her voice, “because I think he needs to be taken care of, but because I want to spend time with him so we can be sad together. You and Bel can be sad together, then we can all just be together at home.”

They spent hours picking through the battlefield, leaving a lily with each of the young and their fallen parent. Every time she found a new pair, fresh tears would fall. They were always in pairs. Always one adult, one young.

They met in front of the scar on the wall, their bouquets dwindled down to a few flowers each. Bel looked exhausted, but there was peace in his eyes. Lily took his flowers and joined them with her own, then set them on the ground in front of the scar. “For the ones we don’t know to mourn,” she said hoarsely. “For the ones we don’t know to mourn,” he murmured. Bel slipped his arm around her, pressing his nose to her hair and letting out a long breath. Bel’s rite—their rite—was done.

Mourning is an act of healing

Beside their lily, someone had laid a yellow chrysanthemum.