(This is the story I never wanted to write. But I have to get it out of my system. So here it is. Also, do any of your remember Marr's "Shattered Seed" story? Let's call this an epilogue.)

Funeral

I stood silently on that shore for what felt like hours. I noticed nothing. I simply stood, with my head upwards toward the sky and thought to myself.

"No, that's not how you do it," he said calmly, with a restrained tone.

"I'll never get this!"

He chuckled to himself and took his sword back, "that's okay. It simply means you'll either have to figure out some other way of defending yourself or," he added monotonously, "get used to being rescued."

Just a memory. There was nothing really tangible to it. His voice was already fading inside my head. That face that I saw, was it his? That smile, those words. I was no longer sure that I could trust any of them.

It has been so long since I have been myself. Things are different now.

He smiled lightly and his eyes crinkled, "what, exactly, are you doing?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

He simply stared and shook his head, laughing.

"Fine," I said mockingly, "I'm hunting for eggs. Easter eggs."

"But I don't---"

"Use your imagination," I interjected. "Now be quiet, you will scare them away!"

Memories. Just a memory. I breathed deeply. There were other times when I stood on this beach by myself. I would absent-mindedly trace my bare feet through the sand, while simply thinking to myself. But then the wind would shift and become freezing all of a sudden. And each time, he would appear, always at that second where my solitude had moved from pacifying to lonely. I don't remember what he would say to me now, it has been so long. It has been too long.

It has been too long since I have been myself.

But this, when this silence again turns on me, when the wind feels a little colder and I realise how alone I truly am; he does not appear. He does not appear and that is when I realise that this really is the end.

Soon they will arrive. They will arrive and I will again be forced to address them. Not as a leader now, though. I do not deserve to be called that. No, I will simply speak to them as I first came to them. I will speak to them as a friend. The sky begins to turn a dark blue as the sun sets and I know that I am going to need them.

"You need to know that I am always here for you when you need me," his lips twitched awkwardly, as if jarred out of place by the stark sincerity of his words.

He said he would be there if I needed him. But he was just a memory now. He was a quickly fading, insubstantial cloud in my head and I was still standing here with sand between my toes. Alone.

They would be here soon. They would walk over the bank and I would not be able to look at any of them at first, but I would need them. I knew I would need them all.

"Always love," I said to him, noticing how he was squinting his eyes with confusion. "Always love. Don't allow any doubt in your life. Just love. Even when things seem bleak and when odds are against you. Love, just love."

Love. It was nothing but a word to me now but, deep within my mind, there remained a warm, dancing haze of purple and blue and green and gold and I could still feel traces of what it was liked to be loved.

They would be here soon. They would come onto this shore and that would be the end. And I would need them. Every one of them.

"I love the ocean," he turned to me and said. It was one of those times that he simply appeared when I needed him to. "It is so calming. I love how you can stare for hours and you are always looking at something a bit different. It is never the same. Sure, it always looks the same. It always looks like it is following a pattern - but, to me, and those others who look hard enough; it is forever changing."

I simply stared ahead, his words illuminating the patched of dark sky that appeared with the setting sun.

I am standing here again. He is gone now. Part of me wonders if he ever existed at all. His voice has become airy and faint; his face nothing but a warming mist in my mind. Did I dream him to stop the cold, biting air on this shore from piercing my soul? Did my loneliness conjure him from nothing and is it now returning him to nothing? Perhaps it is necessary.

The wind becomes even colder and the sky is growing a deeper blue. I gaze upward at the stars and feel a slight rumble in the ground. I turn around. They started to arrive.

"Are you okay?" One smiles, her eyebrows raised concernedly.

"We are sorry for what has happened," another places her arm on my shoulder.

I lower my head for a moment and then I look again at these two friends standing at my side. Suddenly, the world has become real again and I notice that their faces explode with colour and they become vivid. Others come from down the path that separates the hill and the shore. Friends, all. I remember each one of them. I can feel the place that each of them has left in my mind. Each of them clamouring to return to that spot in mind. And, as they do, I feel his face fading further still.

But this does not last long. When the small group has formed on the shore, each standing silently, I gazed beyond them to the path on the hill. I noticed six other people; each of them with lips pushed tightly together; each trying to fight a singular emotion from washing throughout their bodies. Six people, none smiling. I looked closer and noticed that they were carrying something. I looked and knew then that I would need the help of those assembled in front of me, all of them. This was the end.

The box was smaller than I expected it to be. The six moved closer and I began to feel my knees tremble. It seemed impossible that this ceramic rectangle, covered in navy blue cloth could hold him. I felt a lump forming in my throat preventing me from speaking. And then one from the crowd stepped ahead and began to speak.

"Marr, we send you now with the utmost care to the afterlife. You have given us everything in your life and we know that you will be rewarded for it. You are a true hero and you are infinitely valued to each of us."

I held myself from shouting at this person who was speaking. His dutiful treatment of this event made my stomach feel sick. He had no idea exactly how much the person lying cold and lifeless in that pristine white ceramic box was worth. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him my memories. I wanted to expel all that I remembered of him before they were gone forever.

I could feel my knees weakening further. This was the end.

I watched as those people, who did not know this man who had always been there for me as he really was pushed him out to sea. I stood silent and watched as the box, which seemed too small to hold such a towering presence drifted slowly across the water, until it finally disappeared on the horizon.

"Marr," I whispered, "always love. Just love." I spoke freely and felt the words being swept away by the wind until no sound was left.

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That's it,
KB.