The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. The edge of the living, of those who got to make it. I'm standing on the Field of Flowers. The flowers that sparkle in many different colors look up at me with pity and hate. It looks so different from the Field of the Dead. I look to the Field, to those who didn't get to make it. The bodies have already blended into the dark colors of the grass below them. And small fragments of gray bones are poking out of the ground.

I come here twice a week, just to look at all of those I have failed. I come here to remind myself that I could've done more.

I could've given them my Piece, I could've sacrificed myself the way my brothers and sisters did. They all gave their Pieces after fighting those who harmed us off for hours. They tried so hard to win, but the defeat hit them hard. Like the grief and guilt had hit me the same night.

The Moon looks the exact same as it did on that night; it was a waxing crescent Moon, and only a small arc was visible. That is why they needed so many Pieces to fulfill it, so many deaths.

I look back to the Field of Flowers, we had not named it the Field of Living due to the number of loved ones we've lost. No one has really felt like living after that. Not one of us really could.

Many people come here when the Moon takes the same form as it did then. To honor the Dead. I observe the Pieces of the folk beside me; the light of them has dimmed. Our Pieces represent the way we feel; they reveal our emotions when we won't do it ourselves. The Pieces find themselves in the same location of our hearts, take them away, and our hearts and bodies shut down.

The light of Pieces dim every time we come here. I look down at my own Piece, it's light flickers, fighting to stay alive. As my siblings did.

I own the biggest Piece of all, the Piece that can complete even a small line of Moon. I could've spared so many of their smaller Pieces, though I didn't.

The people that took our people and Pieces are called the Moonsinners. They don't believe in the Moongods, and as a result, they don't have Pieces. Their hearts are frail and to satisfy the Moon gods, they have to hand over Pieces to complete the Moon. Sometimes for the last quarter Moon, they wouldn't need many Pieces. And one time, a very long time ago, they were tasked to complete a new Moon. In this phase, the Moon isn't visible at all.

Although only one of us died that night, my father. He had the strongest and purest Piece of all, the full Moon. He hadn't told me why he had to go then, but he told me to never give up my Piece for anyone, never give them my pure heart.

And I listened.