Darkness stretched as far as his eyes could see. Shadows covered the lands, muting the shades of brown, green, yellow, and pink of the trees, rocks, and flowers. Stars twinkled in the darkness above him, thousands of planets all within his reach yet as equally unattainable as the Death he sought.
Arumat felt no urge to sigh or to scream in frustration at the peacefulness of the night. Nearly a year and a half had passed since his Eldarian brethren emigrated to Lemuris and abandoned their technology for a rustic way of life. The lessons of Faize's fall had been painful for all to hear and to accept, but it was what they'd needed to do in order to survive and in order to keep the tragedies of the past from repeating themselves. Arumat had chosen to not follow. There was no place for a warrior like him, for Death, on such a peaceful, idyllic planet. He belonged in the midst of chaos, mayhem, and destruction, cutting the path needed for others to learn and to grow.
After a moment, he pulled out a small bundle wrapped in foil and a jug labeled as Eldarian liquor. In the foil was a small cake frosted white with violet-colored flowers. He'd run into some old friends a few days prior, and this had been one of Edge's parting gift to him. There were no words written on the cake, but the human had somehow known the day was coming. Arumat stared at the cake then shook his head. He allowed himself a small smile, thankful for the overall simplicity of the treat, and then he raised the jug to the stars in a toast.
It felt nice to be remembered, if only by one.