It was their funeral day. They had not been prettied up, at my command, for I knew that they wanted to be remembered for the way they died, and why. Their hands were still intertwined, both grasping the arrow that had taken them both. A funeral had never taken place in which more than one body was burned at a time. I watched the fire go up, expecting to see six flowers appear, three flowers for both of them. The fire seemed to take longer to burn than usual, perhaps because it was more than one body. As it had been in Spark’s funeral, the day was beautiful, the sun bright and not a single cloud in the sky, only a very light breeze blowing through. I looked out at the graveyard of flowers. When I turned back, their bodies were gone. Interestingly though, the arrow remained, and I knew I would use it in the statue that would be built in their honor. There was only one flower, not even one for each.
It was a red rose.
“Undying love” I called out.
And we all knew it to be true.
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