The sky over Sphinx Island was a heavy, weeping grey, as if the heavens themselves were struggling to hold back the weight of the day. This was Edward Newgate's birthplace, a humble, quiet sanctuary far removed from the thundering cannons of the Navy. It was the only place in the world quiet enough to hold the grief of the Whitebeard Pirates. Two graves had been carved into the high cliff side overlooking the sea. One was gargantuan, a resting place for a man who had lived as a titan. Edward Newgate sat in his final position, his massive bisento planted firmly beside him, his great white coat fluttering in the wind. Even in death, he looked like he was guarding the horizon. Beside him, the second grave was smaller, yet no less significant. Maye lay in a casket of dark, polished wood, her body draped in the finest white silk the crew could find. The harsh, blood-stained rags of the war were gone. Her midnight-brown hair had been brushed smooth, fanning out against the silk like ink on snow. Nestled in the crook of her arm and scattered across her chest were dozens of Red Spider Lilies flowers of the final goodbye, their spindly petals reaching out like flickering flames against the white fabric. The "Crimson Mark" looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the violence of her end. Ace stood between the two graves, his head bowed. He wore a simple black suit, his signature orange hat clutched tightly in his hands. He looked smaller than he had at Marineford, thinner, his face lined with a hollow exhaustion that no amount of sleep could cure. Marco stepped forward, his flames flickering low and dim. He placed a hand on Ace's shoulder, his voice thick with a rasp. "They're together, Ace-yoi. Pops won't let her wander the path alone." Ace didn't answer at first. He was staring at the ASCE tattoo on his own arm, then at the identical one on Maye's cold skin. The "S" that she had kept uncrossed, her silent, stubborn hope that their brother was still out there, now felt like a jagged knife in his heart. "She always knew," Ace finally whispered, his voice cracking. "She told me once... she told me that as long as we were under the same sky, no one was ever truly lost. She died believing we'd all be together again." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn piece of jewellery, a simple silver band she had once joked about him losing. He placed it gently among the spider lilies. "I'm the one who's lost now, Maye," he murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. "How am I supposed to be a captain without my anchor?" Behind them, the remnants of the crew stood in a line, hundreds of hardened New World pirates sobbing openly. Shanks stood further back, his straw hat shadowing his eyes, his presence a silent wall of respect. He had seen many deaths, but the sight of the young girl who had once laughed on the deck of the Moby Dick, now silenced forever, made even the Yonko's heart heavy. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a bloody orange light over the graves, the crew began to step forward one by one. They laid their weapons, their charms, and more flowers at the base of the mounds. The wind picked up, catching the petals of a spider lily and carrying it out toward the ocean. Ace watched it go, his eyes hardening. The grief was there, raw and bleeding, but beneath it, a new, cold resolve was beginning to take root. He wouldn't just live. He would become the man she died for. As the first stars appeared, a lone crow circled high above the cliff side, its cry echoing off the stones. Far away, the world was screaming for more blood, but here on Sphinx Island, the only sound was the rhythmic, eternal breathing of the sea against the rocks, the same sea that had brought them together, and the same sea that had finally taken her home.
