Trina shuddered as she looked out at the horizon. The rift was visible now from miles away, dying the sky red and filling her and all the other diviners with intense dread. Every once in a while one could see shapes behind it. Some small, others enormous and writhing. She didn’t look away though, she kept her eyes on it as if looking away would be a loss for her and a victory for it. She said a short prayer to Seras and felt a bit more iron in her spine.After a few moments she felt a hand covered in rings on her shoulder.“We’re ready,” said Clara, her usually bubbly expression missing from her face.Trina nodded as she finally turned away from the rift and walked toward the grave, a body wrapped in simple cotton laying within it. She felt her throat tighten as she looked at it. Her friend was dead. When she wasn’t looking directly at the grave she could almost pretend she was beside her.She looked at the others around them. Some of them had been with her since they’d been in Gemini. The twins themselves were there, Tai openly crying and Finnegan looking dead ahead and stonefaced. She walked all the way to the edge of the grave to look down at Lys within it, finding it harder to look down at her than it had been to look at the rift. If she’d been faster, stronger, a better healer she may have been able to save her. She felt guilty for that, then she felt guilty because Lys would be right there telling her not to feel guilty. She’d been the one pushing herself in spite of her age, fighting at the front fiercely with little rest between rifts. Not even Michael could’ve saved her from having her head removed from her shoulders. She missed him. The fighting had been hard without him. They’d managed it, and what he was doing was necessary, but gods could they use him there at that moment. She closed her eyes, her fingers wrapping around the godly symbol he’d given her. She gave it a squeeze before she walked to the stand right (...)