Mihro was the best of us all.
Vol’dai opened his eyes, the swamp waters of Nazmir surrounded him in every direction. In front of him stood the necropolis. Even the air around him seemed to pull him towards the dark structure. He took a step, his foot didn’t move a single drop of water. He looked down and understood, this was the end of the story for him. He looked at his body, small holes burnt through his spirit, visible cracks that threatened his integrity. He saw Itzl on his shoulder, a bright green glow coming from the toad’s spirit. Vol’dai understood, wordless.
A second step. He looked back and remembered his last months, the enjoyment he had joking with Kolto and Thorn, his bickering with Lyaleth, the poisoning of the elves with Meng, Mawi’s stoicism, Itza’s attitude, Mihro’s optimism- Poor Mihro, now he understood his fear of visions, Jaime’s calm nature, the warlord’s praises, Sathien’s indecisiveness- And how he loved mocking her for it. He would miss them all.
Vol’dai faced the necropolis once more, and took a third step. More spirits appeared into his sight, all of them walking towards the necropolis. Did they feel the same pull he did? He remembered his mother, still in the Echo Isles. He never got to say goodbye to her, and the feeling that he would regret that sooner or later.
The troll stopped, and looked back once more. Itzl had hopped off of him, watching him at a distance.
“Let’s go, old friend. Pa awaits.”
He noticed his voice echoing, as if spoken by the wind and not himself. The toad hopped over next to the young troll’s spirit, a reassuring gesture.
Together, they walked the rest of the way. As he got closer, he saw his father’s spirit once more, waving at him. His features now were visible, down to the wound that had slain him all these years ago- a large hole in his chest. Vol’dai ran as fast as he could, Itzl leaping next to him, until he embraced his father at the steps of the necropolis.
“Was Vol’dai a good hunter?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“No, son. You were da best.” The reassuring voice of his father calmed down the troll, and the three spirits stepped into the Necropolis, with the deal done. The loa of death awaits them, and there was little else to be done.