The first time Leonidas sees a Day of Revival celebration, he’s guarded, shaken, and confused. He melts into the festivities like a ghost with hollow eyes, trying to understand the revelry in the face of the dead. He watches others dance around the skulls of their loved ones, the flames flickering in their eyes and dancing off of the decorations that are hung about. It’s a celebration, he understands, of the life lived, the life they will live again. He can’t share their mirth, not when one of the lives he’s lost will never be coming back, was never able to exist in the first place. Not when it’s still so fresh a