Jeraziah watched the piles of burning bodies. His soldiers. Men and women, humans and beasts. Killed defending each other, their beliefs, their homes. Their king.
Martyrs droned their prayers next to the fires, which crackled and sizzled as the corpses were consumed. A shamanic ape with blood matted in his fur sang words of sorrow for the fallen, and though Jeraziah did not understand the language he knew exactly what the words meant.
The priests did this work for the souls of the dead, helping them into whatever afterlife waited for them. Not long ago Jeraziah would have joined in the ceremony. Now he simply watched the bodies burn to make sure they wouldn’t have to be killed again.
He recognized faces within the flames. Friends he had shared a meal with the previous night before leading the dawn raid. They grimaced as the fire touched them. Jeraziah knew it was the heat pulling the dead flesh and muscles taut, but he still fought the urge to rea...
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