The graveyard was empty.

  Little surprise, considering that the Elven Village it resided near was still unpopulated. This was a place where the dead had been laid to rest, and the survivors had long since moved on. The graveyard's visitors were few and far between; it shouldn't have seen foot traffic for years to come.

  If not for its two newest additions.

  Rob stepped quietly as he walked up to the first grave. His legs felt heavy, and a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churned inside him. Guilt, remorse, gratitude, affection – all battling for purchase in his heart.

  Some days the maelstrom was quiet, a welcome reprieve. Other days it roared with indignant fervor, refusing to grant him peace. Today...

  Was somewhere in the middle.

  Rob knelt down before the first grave. He stared at it for minutes that felt like hours. The headstone stared back, a name carved boldly onto its center, resounding loud as a bell within his mind.

  All of Riardin's Rangers had attended the funeral last year. He was the only member who kept coming back each and every month, sneaking off when the urge arose.

  A perk of nigh-unrestricted teleportation. He could hop over, pay his respects, and be home with his Party none the wiser.

  They would worry too much otherwise, and this....this was something he needed to do.

  "Thank you."

  Two words – wholly insufficient to describe what he was feeling. Then again, would any number of words have been enough? He'd said far more during the funeral proceedings, and it still felt lacking then as well. Language was so woefully inadequate in times like these.

  What did you say to someone who had once despised you, then became one of your most stalwart allies? Who had fought tooth and nail to support you? Who had gladly traded her life so that the friends you held dear might survive?

  Who would've assuredly told him that visiting monthly was a tad excessive. But here he was, so speak he must.

  "Thank you for your guidance," Rob said, bowing his head. "For believing in me. For...your sacrifice. For protecting them when I couldn't. Thank you."

  Brushing his fingertips against the headstone, he gave Elder Alessia a nod before moving on to the second grave.

  The maelstrom intensified. It always did, around this time.

  While greeting Alessia was difficult, he took solace in knowing that she'd gone out exactly as she would've wished – with style. Not many people got a more badass death than Soul Burning themselves to deter an unstoppable Dragon Queen. Her death had been a final act of nobility.

  Elder Duran's death had been a murder.

  Although he wouldn't have wanted Rob to think of it that way. Maybe in a few more years, the Human would be able to manage that.

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  "It's funny." Rob took a seat in front of Duran's headstone. He scratched the back of his head, wry laughter escaping him. "Think I'm getting dumber by the day. Yesterday, I realized that I don't feel guilty nearly as often – and that thought made me guilty. It's some real bullshit."

  Elder Duran had definitely been a crafty one. In exchange for bestowing his EXP upon Elatra's last hope, he'd also cursed the Human with a herculean task:

  'Be happy, Rob. Enjoy your life to its fullest. Consider this my last request to you.'

  "You drive a hard bargain." Rob let out an exaggerated sigh. "Couldn't you have just let me mope for the rest of my life? Things would be so much simpler if I didn't need to put effort into the whole 'getting better' rigmarole."

  He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I am. Getting better, I mean. Still have nightmares–"

  –Flashes of memory, a Rampaging sword skewering an aged Elf's chest, blood spraying, the light fading from–

  "But they're less frequent now. The bursts of guilt don't come as often either. Each day feels just a bit...lighter, than the last. Kenzotul makes for a great Therapist."

  The graveyard was quiet. It would remain quiet forevermore. No matter how long he waited, none here would ever speak – that task fell to the living, who would try and fail to fill the void left in their absence.

  Still, as he imagined Duran rambling on about his latest Earthen fascination...Rob couldn't help but smile.

  "Got something for ya." A flash of blue rang out. When it vanished, a clear glass bottle had materialized in his hand.

  "Sand from Egypt." He shook it gently, millions of grains swirling inside. "You would've loved learning about ancient Egyptian burial rites. Don't think Elatra has anything like mummies."

  Rob carefully placed it next to Duran's headstone. The sand-filled bottle was in good company. Surrounding his grave was a vast collection of books, clothing, pictures, postcards, memorabilia, sports equipment, packaged food, technology, doodads, knickknacks, and much, much more. There were souvenirs from almost every country on Earth.

  An assorted slice of the world that had captivated him so.

  "Alright, so I brushed up on the finest wikipedia pages before coming here," Rob began. "Burial rites, the Egyptian pantheon...actually, let's start with the pharaohs. Leaders are interesting no matter which dimension you're in. Do you want to hear about the ones who were effective rulers, or the ones that were a hot mess?"

  He laughed. "Nevermind, dumb question. Hot messes it is."

  Time passed. Whereas before it had crawled, now it seemed to fly. Rob rambled on and on about Earth history, giving the eulogy that was deserved.

  Slowly, gradually, the maelstrom within subsided.