Too much history

“That’s all I can ask.” The Warlord said softly, knowing it to be the truth. He would look for her in his dreams, he knew. And after this? He would be much more inclined to listen. Knowing that the dead could still exist in some form, in some beyond. It was a surprising comfort to the old man.

She said the very words he had been dreading, and he held her tightly for just a moment longer, and then allowed her to pull his head down. She placed a kiss against his brow, and his eyes filled. Holding her gaze for a moment, feeling the loss and grief welling inside of him. He knew this would hurt, but it was worth it. It was worth it to see her again. “I will, Mother.” He said softly, his voice trembling, and she was beginning to fade. He could see it happening before his eyes. Eyes that were losing their clarity with the tears pushing free of his hold. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear them and glean this last glimpse of her. She no longer felt firm beneath the parts of them that touched, and then quite suddenly, she was gone. He tossed back his head and let loose a keening howl of loss. Pressing his paw against the gold that lay in the earth. The last part of her left behind, staining the toes of his paw.

"Sirius Fatalis"