"It is yours, now," she told Draven. "Your father would have wanted you to have it, given the circumstances. Keep it safe."
Draven nodded and closed the book again, stuffing it in the duffel bag that Bijarki had brought with him, where we also kept the first book. We all looked at each other, our expressions lighter than before. Despite the death surrounding us, we were still closer to destroying Azazel than we had been before. There was a faint idea of hope lingering in the air among us.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"We give my sisters a proper burial, and we leave nothing behind," Hansa replied.
Serena
We spent a couple of hours gathering all the bodies in the middle of the camp, stacking them on top of pieces of wood. Several corpses had once belonged to the attacking Sluaghs, paler than the rest and lacking their heads, oozing black blood. According to Bijarki, silver blood turned black when the body was occupied by a Sluagh. We counted ten of them in total. I figured the succubi had put up quite the fight, to be able to decapitate ten of these so-hard-to-kill monsters. It was an impressive death toll, given that they'd been taken by surprise.
Hansa and Bijarki piled on all the dragon tears they could find, then set the funeral pyre alight.
The task had been a daunting one, and my arms and back were sore, but it was nothing compared to what Hansa must have felt at the sight of her sisters burning. Black smoke rose in heavy plumes, a sad contrast against the violent pinks and purples of dusk. Crickets chirped in the woods around us, while night birds began their melodious exchange of trills in the branches above.
Hansa stood before the pyre, torch in hand. She turned around to face us, and I could see tears streaming down her dirty cheeks, revealing thin lines of smooth, silvery skin. The pain in her eyes tore me apart. I decided to offer my help.
"Hansa," I said. "If you want, I can syphon some of the pain off."
She gave me a warm smile and shook her head.
"Thank you, Serena, but I need this pain. It fuels me," she replied.
A moment passed before she spoke again.
"How many, in total?" she asked.
"Ninety-three," I answered, my voice barely a whisper.
"That leaves us with twelve unaccounted for. Twelve of my sisters who might still be alive somewhere."
She looked over her shoulder, frowning at the sight of the bright orange blaze that consumed the flesh of her dead sisters. There hadn't been enough time for us to wrap them all in burial cloaks. There weren't enough of those anyway. The Red Tribe had never anticipated its own sudden extinction.
"My sisters were brave and strong," Hansa said, her voice trembling. "Some were older than me and carried with them millennia of traditions and tales of succubi virtue. Most, however, I nursed myself from the day they were born. Sweet little bundles of joy and curiosity, with bright eyes and millions of questions about the world, about our nature, and about our freedom. I raised them all with the elders, trained them, fed them, and prepared them for everything that awaited them outside the boundaries of our camp. Eritopia is beautiful and wild, intense and unforgiving, cruel and fascinating. I remember each and every one of these girls, from their first steps to their first kills."
///
Bijarki took a few steps forward, holding a large bunch of wild pink and yellow flowers. He walked along the length of the pyre and threw the blossoms into the fire, one for each succubus lost. Sadness darkened his face, and I could see tears glazing his eyes. These were creatures of his own kind, after all. Despite their separate lifestyles and the frequent animosity, the succubi and incubi only had each other in this world. Loss was painful in any universe.
"In many ways, I grew up with them, over and over again, rediscovering the wonders and terrors of Eritopia," Hansa continued hoarsely. "I laughed with them, and I lost sleep whenever one of them didn't come home. Seven of them were my own daughters … " She choked up.
My heart twisted in my chest. I could only imagine what it must feel like for a mother to lose her children like that.
"Six are here now, burning. One is missing. I am hopeful she is still alive, somewhere," Hansa continued, swallowing back more tears. "We are all mothers at some point in our lives. We all carry life in our wombs. We all feel the unbreakable bond that comes with giving birth. But the Red Tribe was even stronger. The bond was greater, stronger than the blood ties. Today, I am parting not just with my blood daughters, but with all my daughters, all my sisters … my friends … my mothers."