Willow's father was buried only a few feet away. But what made Percival's chest tighten was the positioning of the bones. The skeleton's arm was outstretched, the bony fingers reaching desperately toward the spot where his wife had been crushed.
He had died trying to hold her hand.
Percival stared at the outstretched hand for a long time, imagining the terror and the love that had filled the fisherman's final moments.
Somehow, it felt like an alien emotion to him now. Love. In this timeline, he couldn't think of anyone who he held that feeling for.
Well, except—
Percival's brows creased. Lowering his head, he immediately chased the thought away, then turned to his Soul Soldier.
"Thank you, Mercius. Return," Percival said softly.
Mercius bowed and dissolved into blue smoke.
Percival gathered the two skeletons, carrying them with profound care to a quiet clearing behind the village, where a grove of newly planted pine trees was beginning to bloom.
