Zeriel stood over his cousin Orrin's grave, unmoving, as though rooted into the very earth beneath his feet. He had been there long enough for the sun to shift across the sky, yet he barely registered the passage of time. The minutes slipped by unnoticed, dissolving into one another as his mind flitted through distant memories.
He thought of Orrin.
They had been close as children, inseparable, even. Their fathers were brothers, and so they had been raised side by side, more like siblings than cousins. They shared lessons since they had the same tutors. They were close in age and shared the same interests, and had been friends since they could talk.
But time had a way of eroding even the strongest bonds.
