Cries. Soft, pained cries filled the air. The trees cried, the rivers cried, the mountains and the fields and the ice cried. They all knew, sensed, that their creator had passed. The reason they existed, gone. Dark clouds thundered in the sky, tears dropping many leagues til they kissed the ground. In the midst of these cries ran a river of silence. Winged men and women, thousands of them, flowed silently, their wing tips making no sound as they dragged along the ground. All were headed to the Ancient Barrows, where they intended to properly honor their maker.

This dark river gave off an aura of hopeless misery , and any unaware of what had happened would have broke down and joined the surrounding chorus of cries. Each winged being in the parade, whether they be Lealfast or Icarii, had their feathers painted black with charcoal. They all wore the same black, hooded cloak. At the front of the silently roaring river stood six Icarii enchanters, three males, three females. They held, on their shoulders, a clay platform. A female corpse lay peacefully upon its surface, beautiful not for her looks, but for a far deeper reason. Life, love, wisdom, truth. All this could be seen in her every pore. Strangers would have known her name instantly. Sara Warneke, more commonly known as Sara Douglass.

Rain mixed with tears, soaking all, but not a drop touching the platform nor the person on it. The six Icarii at the front of the display stopped only paces from their destination. Others had come out to greet the procession. Ur, the Mother, Jack, Urbeth, the Horned Ones, Yr, and many more, each wearing the same black cloak. Faces lit by the candle light of unseen flames. They all seemed to want to reach out and embrace Sara, but held back. Instead they parted to allow the six through, and no more. The Mother and Urbeth followed, as well as one particularily powerful Lealfast enchanter. They walked to the center of the center mound, all feeling the presence of the Star Gate beneathe their feet. At the center they placed the platform down upon a pile of sticks. The Icarii enchanters encircled it and the entire world fell silent. The silence held the world in its grip for several long moments.

Mouths opened and the silence broke.

The Icarii flew up, dropping their cloaks to the ground to reveal brilliantly coloured robes that shone in the darkness. Song escaped their lips in a beautiful chorus. They had waited eons to sing this song, the most powerful and beautiful piece of Icarii magic. Each had hoped they wouldn't be the one to sing it, yet they also yearned to be chosen to do so when the time arrived. As they flew, spiralling upwards into infinity, flames erupted from their wings, igniting the funeral pyre at the same time. Flames followed them upwards, higher and higher.

Tears began to drop once more, and cries filled the air. But they were of happiness, of joy. They felt Sara's spirit embrace the very air they breathed. The Lealfast enchanter, the Mother, and Urbeth were all so enchanted they nearly forgot their role. The Mother hugged the flame, perishing in it. As she did so, the flames began to turn green, the green climbing up into the sky, chasing after the orange. Urbeth, tears streaking her muzzle, soon joined her, causing the a blue to begin climbing as well. Lastly, the Lealfast enchanter walked up to the flame. His time to join was soon. He smiled, thinking back to all the joy and sorrow Sara Warneke had brought upon this world. As he walked into the flame, he felt no pain, and experienced true happiness. There was a blast of light as the spiralling fire turned to ice, the six Icarii at the top of it becoming clear statues.

Their creator may have died, but her spirit lived on in the land around them.

RIP Sara, the most amazing author to have ever blessed this universe. We will all miss you, forever and for always. In the tea room your characters sit in between scenes, there is surely grave silence.