The rain ate away the fire, but the damage was done. The color of her eyes leaked out from the corners of her eyes and down her face, streaking the mud away with blood. Crystal blue irises gazed at the alchemists as she sank to her knees and collapsed to the ground. The light slowly faded from her eyes. The girl fell on her back, her legs at her sides, blistered and bleeding.

Edward cradled the girl’s head in his lap, staring into her clear, sightless blue eyes. The tears began to flow and sobs shook him. He gave himself up to them now for the first time since his confrontation with Barry the Chopper; great, shuddering spasms of grief seemed to wrench his whole body. He tilted his head back, unable to look into her eyes anymore, and his voice rose under the thick clouds and roaring rain. In the middle of the open, destroyed field laden with dead men; with filthy body, matted hair and bloody nose, Edward wept for the end of innocence and the death of a true friend, Cierra.

The sun broke trough the stormy gray clouds, shedding light on the site of a horrendous battle; the site of over one hundred deaths.