Sarah narrowed her eyes. A river burial?
No incense. No guards. No rites. Just silence and a desperate girl with a lantern.
A crude, broken ritual.
Was this all that remained for the old woman?
Sarah's first instinct was judgment.
Foolish. A child playing funeral priest.
But she said nothing.
She hovered, watching.
The boat slipped into the water.
Not cleanly—but like a wound being opened.
Ripples spread, soft and slow—
like the world exhaling one final goodbye.
As the boat began to drift, the girl's eyes lit up with a quiet joy. Tears shimmered, not from sorrow alone, but from a fragile hope rekindled deep within her heart.
She ran after the boat.
Bare feet splashing through the shallows, she lunged forward—gripping the edge of the boat, pulling herself in with clumsy strength.
She clutched the lantern close to her chest, breathing heavily.
Suicidal, Sarah thought at first, arching a brow. Or maybe just mad with grief.
Either way… it stirred something.
