The lights dimmed, and the stage was now empty. Faint whisps of smoke and orange sparks lingered, occasionally popping into view as if the final memories were chasing after their brethren.
Silence reigned over the audience, no one making a noise, not even a whisper. It was as if their ability to speak had been ripped from them with the Lantern Bearers' age, replacing it with an eerie emptiness.
Charon didn't move.
His eyes were locked on the curtains, roaming them for any sign that he had been mistaken. His breath released, cold and shallow, as if his life was fading.
'I wasn't there.'
He wanted to deny it, to find a justification for his face not being part of the crowd, and yet none came. It was as if the troupe had forgotten him specifically, leaving him out of their collage.
Around him, the others began to stir.
