The heat of the fire pushed against us and the roaring sound of it found the bitter cries of the mourning, swallowing them up too. I’d heard that sound many times. Usually when we came home from fighting and families searched for the missing faces of loved ones. There was no sound like that—like the soul tearing. “Heill para,” she called out, looking up to the sky. “Heill para.” The words repeated on the lips of every Riki and Fiske’s deep voice sounded at my back. Safe travels.
