I awake curled up under Abraxos' wing, his body a wall of warm leather beside mine. I am still in the Witch-City, on the old stone floor by by the rock. I must've cried myself to sleep after the Thirteen left.
I shiver. Everything is silent here, in the dead of night, but won't be for long. Soon, this city will be alive with the sounds of rebuilding. Soon, but not yet. For now, silence.
I slide out from under Abraxos' wing, stretching in the freezing air. My body is cramped. I approach the rock again, staring at the lonely flower on top, thinking over the events of last night, and the Thirteen. Maybe they were right. I'm not alone, just surrounded by a thousand people who don't know anything about me.
I stare and stare at the flower unblinking, until my sight starts to blur. Only then do I notice.
The beautiful flower has twelve petals. One for each of my lost friends.
I feel tears starting to return, but push them back. I've had enough of crying, and emotions for one night.
I turn to where Abraxos is sleeping, one leathery wing still tucked over the space where I was sleeping. I want to crawl back in their and rest into dawn, but I already know i can't. Instead, I wander through the ancient streets of my city, through the tumbled down alleyways and ruins of old houses, and wonder what this place would have been like 500 years ago, before the war so thoroughly wrecked it.
I keep on walking aimlessly until I reach the very edge of the Witch-City. Here, the wall surrounding the city is even more ruined than anywhere else. Here, there is just a gap in the wall where towering iron gates should have been. Here, the silence is so profound it hurts my arms. Here, the ground is blasted in the same way as where the Thirteen died.
For is here that Rhiannon Crochan, the last High-Queen of the Crochans, fell.
I don't walk any further than that, just stand before the blasted bit of earth.
I can see the camp from where I stand. Fire burns starkly against the starry night sky, tents silhouetted against it, as clearly as the few witches on watch. My people.
I stand there for along time, silently, the wind blowing my hair over my face, until the sun starts peaking over the horizon. I am a queen now. I have lands, and people. I have responsibility.
Asterin was right, I am not alone.
Just lonely.