The evening of the funeral, Sabrina stared into her wardrobe, the scent of cedar wood pleasantly tickling her nose but not aiding her in selecting an appropriate outfit. She'd been to funerals before but had always dressed according to her mother's instructions, and she certainly hadn't committed the clothing to memory.

She supposed she could have asked one of her aunts, but that sounded worse than showing up inappropriately dressed and merely reinforced she would have to make this decision on her own.

While there was no specific clothing requirement for a Hexen funeral, it was customary for the witches to wear earth-colored tones such as black, brown, green, or grey, signifying the deceased's body returning to the earth. This was fine with Sabrina, as most of her clothes were made from darker fabric, since lighter colors too easily showed dirt, oil, rust, or other effects of working with metal.

Thinking of the freshly-dug grave, Sabrina eventually settled on a simple, unadorned black dress with a high neckline and a hem that just grazed the floor.

The only thing Sabrina was expected to wear to the funeral was a Bergrabnis cloak, which had been delivered to her room a few hours earlier by a Helferin.

Bergrabnis cloaks were worn at every funeral, the hooded garments hand-made by Hexen seamstresses and decorated with sigils for each of the four physical elements—earth, air, water, and fire—as well as the sigil for the fifth element of spirit.

Each symbol was stitched with metal thread, some pieces no thicker than a strand of hair, and the metallic stitches glinted beautifully beneath the moonlight, making it appear as if tiny lights were constantly moving over the fabric of the garments.

Tying the cloak around her shoulders and situating the hood over her head, Sabrina studied herself in the mirror. The night of her mother's funeral seemed an odd time to start worrying over how she looked, but rather than studying her clothes, she found herself examining her face.

Her skin had always been fair, a paleness she'd inherited from her mother. Her blue eyes hadn't come from either parent and must have been attributable to a more distant relative. Her dark brown hair was the same shade as her mother's, but she thought her oval-shaped face more closely resembled her father. Her cheeks were hollow, likely from the weight of carrying too many burdens, and the skin beneath her eyes was dark from lack of sleep.

From some angles she thought she still resembled a child waiting to be told what to do, while from others, she looked like an adult ready to embark on her life, making her own decisions as she went.

Sabrina didn't feel like either an adult or a child, and she frowned at the sense of being stuck somewhere in between before mentally reviewing her schedule for the next twenty-four hours.

She needed to make it through the funeral, then the meeting tomorrow morning with her father, followed by a meeting with Tante Monika from the High Council, who had been named acting Sprechen for the time being. The last meeting was the most important, as it would determine her role among the Hexen moving forward.

But tonight she simply needed to say goodbye to her mother.

Sabrina made her way to the courtyard, which was already starting to fill with other witches. Everyone in the coven attended funerals, from the very youngest to the most aged, who occasionally needing to be pushed in wheeled chairs if they were past the point of being able to use a cane and walk on their own. The members of the High Council would arrive last, and their presence would signal the start of the burial procession.

Sabrina could feel the eyes of the other witches on her as she strode into the open air, could almost hear the condolences bumping up against people's teeth, wanting to be spoken, but once nice thing about this particular part of the funeral was the tradition of silence.

Moving to stand near the doorway, Sabrina didn't necessarily avoid eye contact with others, but she didn't seek it out, either. She nodded at Maedra and Gerta, standing close to their mothers and grandmothers, then let her mind wander to one of the especially puzzling equations she'd been considering a few days ago, before the fight with her mother. She remained deep in her own thoughts until the castle doors opened and the members of the High Council streamed out, one by one.

Each member was carrying a branch from a tree or shrub, and Sabrina quickly thought back to the last funeral she'd attended. It was customary for each of the nine High Council members to place a sprig from a sacred tree into the grave of the deceased, but with only eight remaining council members, who would place the ninth branch?

Tante Monika—no, it was Sprechen Monika now—stopped in front of Sabrina and gave her a gentle smile before extending her hand and offering Sabrina a slim branch from a birch tree.

Sabrina hesitated. If she accepted, did that mean she was indicating she wished to become a part of the High Council? Or was Sprechen Monika simply offering her the chance to participate in her mother's funeral without implying any further commitment?

Deciding she could clarify her role in the Hexen when she met with the woman the following day, Sabrina nodded her thanks and accepted the birch branch. Each member of the High Council cast a flurry of tiny orbs into the air, illuminating the darkness, then made their silent way across the courtyard and through the outer wall door, directing their steps towards the small forest behind the castle and arranging themselves into two rows of four.

Sabrina followed after them, walking by herself, while the rest of the Hexen trailed in her wake. Looking at the witches ahead of her, a lump formed in Sabrina's throat. Normally her mother, as Sprechen, would have been at the head of the two rows, striding confidently across the dark ground beneath the night sky, tiny lights dancing overhead like curious fireflies.

Her mother would never again lead the burial procession, and Sabrina shook her head to clear the melancholy thought, instead turning her attention to the branch in her hand. Since Marlene had always been the last to place her sacred offering in a grave, Sabrina supposed she would cast the final branch to be buried with her mother.

Thankfully, the healers had already prepared her mother's body and taken it to the burial grove. Apparently at one time funerals had begun in the Treffen Hall, and a spell had been cast to make the body float through the air along with the procession as they made their way to the grove.

The thought of a deceased loved one's body floating behind her made Sabrina shudder, and she kept her attention on placing one foot in front of the other, stepping over pine needles, leaves, and small stones. While the path to the witches' cemetery wasn't well-worn, some of the lights that had been shining overhead settled on either side of the trail, twinkling to mark the way.

Above her, the moon was waning, a little less than half-full, and the sky was clear, unobstructed by clouds. The breeze was cold, and Sabrina drank it in, inhaling the scents of forest, night, and moonlight. It had snowed some the previous day, but the trail had been cleared a little while ago and spelled to repel anything that would make the witches' footing unstable.

Eventually, they reached the burial grove deep within the woods, where witches had been buried for more than two hundred years, ever since the Hexen had taken sanctuary in the castle. Sabrina's heart began to beat faster as they entered the thicket, a roughly circular space ringed with evergreens and tall pines and filled with an abundance of wild grasses and flowers.

With the aid of the remaining overhead orbs, Sabrina could just make out a pile of dirt next to a deep hole in the ground, and her stomach constricted. It was still difficult to imagine her mother—her active, chatting, always on-the-go mother—lying at the bottom of the freshly dug grave.

The members of the High Council formed a semi-circle behind the grave before turning to face the rest of the witches, and Sprechen Monika motioned for Sabrina to come and stand beside her. As the moon shone down and a night bird called in the distance, the rest of the Hexen filed into the grove, forming row after row of mourners.

Once everyone was present, a tuning fork was struck, although Sabrina didn't see by who, and the ceremony began. Various members of the High Council spoke the traditional Hexen funeral liturgy, acknowledging the elements woven into the witches' cloaks, hailing the four directions, and reciting the last rites.

The Hexen didn't believe death was the ultimate end, instead viewing it as a transition everyone was destined to experience at some time or other. After death, a soul might be ready for immediate reincarnation, returning to experience life in a different body and time, or it might prefer a chance to rest, in which case it was offered a repose in the Summerlands.

Sabrina couldn't recall much about the Summerlands, other than they were a resting point between reincarnations...she knew she'd learned about them, but at the time she couldn't imagine her soul being happy doing nothing but resting and making small talk with other relaxing souls. And since she hadn't anticipated spending any time in the Summerlands, she hadn't studied them beyond what was required to perform well on her class exams.

As one of the High Council members led the witches in a call-and-response dirge, Sabrina wondered what her mother had thought about dying and returning to life in a different body. Had she liked the idea of the Summerlands, or had she, too, believed her soul was destined to return quickly, continuing to grow and learn through new experiences?

Sabrina didn't know, nor would she ever, and she frowned at that finality, disliking the thought of being unable to know something she now deemed important.

At last, it was time for the final funerary act...blessing the resting place of the deceased's body and urging the earth to accept it so it might contribute to future life.

Sabrina watched as each member of the High Council stepped forward, one at a time.

First came Tante Yvonne. She gently tossed her branch into the grave and said, "May the oak protect you, sheltering you in preparation of future success and good fortune."

Tante Hedda stepped forward, her spectacles glinting beneath the moonlight, her beehive of hair tilting precariously yet somehow staying upright as she dropped her branch into the grave.

"May the rowan speed you on your way, strengthening your personal power."

Tante Ursula, the elderly metallurgist, shuffled forward, tapping the ground expertly with her cane, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she stopped before coming too near the edge of the deep hole. Dropping her branch, she said in a voice roughened by age, "May the ash provide you with divine knowledge."

Healer Fallon stepped forward next, and Sabrina could see tears running down the witch's cheeks as she tossed her branch into the grave. "May the willow heal and nurture you," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Tante Susanne stepped forward, her canvas baking apron peeking out from beneath her Bergrabnis cloak. "May the holly grant you good luck and safety during times of transition," she said, giving her branch a final squeeze before letting it fall from her hand.

Tante Karlotta stepped forward, a circle of bats darting gracefully around her head. "May the hazel guide you to sacred pools where you shall always be renewed," she said before dropping her branch. The bats squeaked what Sabrina assumed was their agreement before settling into the trees surrounding the grove.

Tante Thea, white hair glowing like a pearl in the moonlight, tiptoed forward. Pressing her lips against her branch, she imparted a kiss to the wood before dropping it into the grave.

"May the alder show you prophecies and strengthen your divination and intuition," she said softly before stepping back to join the others.

Beside her, Sabrina heard Sprechen Monika draw a deep breath before stepping forward.

"May the hawthorn help you make wise decisions and protect you from harm," she said in a loud, clear voice before tossing her branch down into the darkness.

Sabrina glanced at the branch in her hand. She knew the meaning of each of the sacred woods—the information was committed to memory by every member of the Hexen from the time they were children—but she found herself wishing she'd paid better attention at the last funeral she'd attended.

Of course, she'd had no way of knowing she would soon be burying her own mother, but she couldn't help feeling annoyed at herself for being less than fully prepared.

Sprechen Monika leaned over and put her lips near Sabrina's ear.

"Simply say whatever comes to mind in keeping with the properties of the birch," she instructed softly.

Sabrina nodded and tightened her grip around the branch before stepping forward. Even though she knew it was ridiculous, a very small part of her was terrified to look into the grave. She could too easily imagine her mother's body suddenly sitting upright, throwing off the white shroud, grey eyes snapping as she started lecturing Sabrina on why metallurgy would never be as fulfilling as leading the Hexen.

Thankfully, the body beneath the linen shroud remained still, and Sabrina let out a small sigh of relief. She then said, "May the birch guide you through your rebirth and regeneration," before releasing the branch from her grip, where it fell into the darkness of the grave, landing beside the wrapped body.

She carefully stepped back to her place in line as Sprechen Monika spoke again, concluding the ceremony with a few final words. Rather than walking away, however, the elder witch remained standing where she was as Healer Fallon moved to Sabrina's other side. It was customary for the Hexen to offer their condolences to the remaining family members of the deceased, and Sabrina quickly realized the two High Council members were ensuring she didn't have to stand there by herself.

While some part of her knew they were trying to be kind, she also wouldn't have minded being by herself as she endured the last moments of the funeral. She smiled, accepted hugs, and expressed her appreciation to every witch who came by, thanking them for their concern, assuring them she was holding up as well as could be expected, and generally acknowledging what her mother had meant to them.

At long last, Sabrina found herself standing in the grove with only Sprechen Monika, Healer Fallon, and another witch, Tante Anja, who she wasn't especially familiar with.

"Tante Anja has an affinity for earth," explained Healer Fallon softly. "She'll see that the grave is properly covered."

Sabrina thanked them all, then began the walk back to the castle, grateful for the opportunity to have a few minutes alone.

This was it. She'd done it. She'd said goodbye to her mother and behaved with the decorum befitting a member of the Hexen. She'd done everything expected of her and while she knew she'd done well, she was still so tired of doing what she had to do, performing actions inherent to a specific role.

Feeling exhausted all the way down to her bones, Sabrina willed herself to keep walking, placing one foot in front of the other. Tomorrow morning, she would meet with her father, then with Sprechen Monika. After that, she would never do something because she had to ever again.

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