Two years had passed since that tragic night in the snow and things in Shavasta had returned to a semblance of normality. Dragons went about their daily business, stopping to chat with others of their kind in the cobblestone streets. Fledglings, their tiny wings flapping uselessly on their backs as they ran, played at hide-and-seek and tag with the addition of one fire-child, matching their speed with ease.
Marius looked out at his niece playing with three dragon children in the yard and smiled. The red dragon could not bring himself to think of her as his daughter; that would remind him of Astarra and Rolan and those memories were painful ones. But he loved her like a daughter and was glad beyond telling that she was finally out of her depression of the previous year.
The year after Astarra�s death had been hard on all the community, but especially on Lora, Marius, and Tavia. A coffin had been made for the fire-mage out of mahogany wood from the tallest tree cultivated in the hothouse. The most talented wood-worker in the city spent a full day carving the casket that seemed so small to the massive dragons. After it was completed, Astarra was placed inside and laid at the temple to Draga and Sorana, the patron god and goddess of dragons, for three days. During that time, the whole of Shavasta was in mourning for their dear friend. Red flags, the color of mourning among the fire-mages, flew over the dome-shaped houses and no one, not even the fledglings, raised their voice in anger or joy in respect for the dead who could no longer talk at all.
Only family was allowed to actually see the body before the fourth day. So Lora and Marius visited Astarra with Tavia everyday during that time. All three would kneel before the altar and the dead woman in front of it, praying to their own gods and goddesses for comfort. During these visits, Tavia never cried although pain and grief would cloud her eyes. She never had cried in public after that first time sitting in the snow with her dead mother�s head in her lap. Marius suspected, however, that Tavia snuck out of the house when her guardians were asleep and went to see her mother by herself. And once he had gone in late at night to check on her and found her lying in bed, tear stains on her cheek.
At dawn on the fourth day, all the dragons had gathered at the temple to view the body and bear witness to the ceremony to follow. As they filed in and past the casket, some sobbed uncontrollably, others whispered a quiet prayer to Draga or Sorana, and some walked by stoically with rage in their yellow eyes. Marius, Tavia, and Lora stood behind the coffin, between it and the altar, as was their duty as those closest to the deceased. It fell to Marius to thank the dragons for coming as they filed past him, since Lora was crying; silently soaking the stone floor beneath her, and Tavia was standing silently in between her adopted parents, jaw clenched and eyes unfocused.
Eventually, all the dragons had lain comfortably in the stone pews made in the same form as the alcove in the hothouse that Lora had been lying in when Astarra and her seven year old daughter had flown erratically into their midst. It seemed like ages ago to the dragon.
Once everyone was settled, a priest of Draga had stepped forward and spoke the ritual words that released the spirit of its past sins. When this was finished, he stepped aside, allowing the two dragons and one solemn, yellow-eyed girl to step forward. Lora and Marius had lowered their noses to touch the body before them and Tavia had reached out her hand without hesitation and laid it on her mother�s hand.
Marius would never forget the look that passed across her eyes, on of sorrow and anger, as her lips moved in a silent prayer of which the only word he could discern was Simione. She had clutched at the locket through her ceremonial red shirt with her free hand, the material bunching under her white-knuckled fist. Her eyes had soon closed, however, and her hand had relaxed its hold, concealing both her emotions and the gathering tears from the world.
All three had built their power simultaneously, calling upon the forces that contained the element of fire. Marius had been surprised earlier that day when Tavia had asked to be apart of the burning ceremony, but, remembering that she had told them that her healing powers and empathy had emerged earlier than normal, he assumed that her control over fire had done the same. Despite this assumption, he had still been shocked when the young girl�s powers rose smoothly along with his and Lora�s.
As flames had spilled from Tavia�s fingers and the two dragons� mouths, a great roar of rough song had arisen from the congregation of dragons. The sound drowned out the crackle of the rapidly rising flames, which consumed Astarra�s earthly body while releasing her immortal soul to the heavens.
Tavia had stared intently at the flames, her yellow eyes turning an eerie orange in the reflected light, emotions flickering through them as she allowed the fact that her mother was truly gone and never coming back to sink in all the way. Tears had welled in her eyes, turning orange to a softer copper, but had been allowed to flow freely down her tanned skin that was so much like her father�s.
After the ceremony for Astarra, her ashes were gathered and put in a box made of the same mahogany as the casket and secured with a silver hook attached to the lid that fit snugly inside a golden loop of metal secured to the box itself. The priest of Draga repeated the prayer for release from sins for Astarra�s husband, Rolan, and a ceremonial fire was lit for him, gathering the ashes from that and putting them in an identical box. Both of these were placed side by side in an alcove of the altar.
Tavia had expressed her desire that her parents� ashes be placed in the temple of Simione as was customary for fire-mages, but since none were allowed to travel there save Simione�s children, and then only when they had passed their 17th birthday, that seemed impossible until Tavia herself made the trip. The young girl agreed to wait and bring the twin boxes with her when she finally made the journey that would gift her with the Star Song and make her an adult in the eyes of her people. Until then, she must be content with their current placement.
The sun had been almost unbearably bright after the relative darkness of the chapel, which was lit by only a few candles, and all those who had been present squinted as they stepped outside. Their chattering had flowed over Marius, Lora and Tavia as the other dragons talked of the ceremony and how beautiful it had been and how wonderfully the young ones had behaved. All three had gone straight to their shared house by silent consent.
The days and months afterwards, Lora and Marius had adjusted to their guardian role, taking care not to mention Astarra or Rolan too much around their charge. Despite their precautions, however, Tavia was quite and introspective most of that time, but gradually, she began to come to grips with her reality and move on as best she could.