The sky was a dull sheet of gray, heavy with unspoken sorrow. Rain hadn’t started yet, but the wind carried a chill that hinted it wouldn’t wait long. A small gathering stood around the freshly dug grave, their heads bowed in silence, black coats flapping in the wind like mourning flags.

The priest’s voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the rustling leaves and distant thunder. "He was more than a soldier, more than a friend," the man intoned. "He was the kind of person who could make you laugh in a firefight... who’d give you the last bullet in his mag, or the shirt off his back. Loyal to the end."

A handful of dirt slipped through fingers and hit the coffin with a soft thud. One by one, people stepped forward to say their piece—or not. Some stared in silence. Some couldn’t even look.

A photograph rested atop the casket: the grin of a guy who never seemed to take anything too seriously… except loyalty. Except family.

There was still someone missing.