Night fell upon Alexander’s funeral. Students, teachers and officers gathered along the west bank of the river outside the academy. Despite their grief, the night was bright and alive; cloudless, the stars glittered like silver angels and the moon touched the river with glistening blue. Alexander’s body was placed on a pyre at the edge of the water, with his hands folded over his chest, and his aged expression was still but melancholy. His face was white as stone, and with his pale beard he looked like a statue. One by one the people came and placed flowers around him. Everyone carried lanterns and hundreds of orange lights dotted the riverside.
Victor and Samantha arrived late. Hansel had gone ahead to stand with Caesar and his father by the funeral pyre, for they had both known Alexander well. Gretel stood quietly by Rodrick’s side. The air was filled with the low murmuring of condolences and the light chattering of conversations. With Sam by his side Victor disappeared into the crowd; he wanted to get a glimpse of the funeral pyre but there was no way for him to push through, besides, only men and women of significance were allowed there.
He stood on his toes and raised his head. Samantha did the same. “Can you see anything? Can you see Mr. Silver?”
Vic shook his head. “We’re too far away.” Suddenly everyone fell silent and a voice was heard. The eulogy had begun. In the end, Victor decided to climb a tree. He reached down for Sam and helped her up onto one of the branches, and there they saw Mr. Silver standing near the pyre. He spoke for some time about the many great deeds of Alexander, and then he spoke of the others who had fallen in the attack, and offered his assurance that though times were now dark, the academy would endure as it always had.
A light shined in Sam’s eyes as she watched him. “So that’s Mr. Silver. I thought he was an old man.”
“He is,” Vic muttered.
“Well I know that, but I thought he’d look old. The man of immortality,” she whispered.
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