Katra a soft, familiar voice filled her head. It called to her, waking her. I need you. It’s time.
“Marduke?â? she asked the night air.
Who else, dear? A soft chuckle like a low growl resonated in her brain.
“What do you mean, you need me? Time for what? You’re dead!â?
Katra, sweet, Katra! I told you, I am not dead! This is a trial, for Kira. Do it for Kira. It is your love for him that will save him, Katra.
Images of Kira in deep depression flashed through her mind. Kira crying for a day over Marduke’s ashes. Kira curled depressively in bed. Kira’s anger in his training swordfights with Perceval.
Only you can save him. He will die without me against the King.
“He’s left already, with the men. They’re gone. There’s nothing I can do!â?
Yes. There is.
Katra waited wondering.
Your love will save him. Come to me.
Katra walked to the funeral pyre. She began to cry as her heart overflowed with love and sadness. Images of Kira at war, dying, filled her mind.
She stood on the cold ashes.