But for those who knew Elijah Calloway, none of this felt fair. He had survived explosions, ambushes, freezing desert nights, only to end up here, lifeless, cold, without a final goodbye. His fellow soldiers stood in formation, their faces stiff, their jaws locked.

Not one of them dared to break, yet their eyes betrayed the pain they carried. In the front pew, a woman with tightly pinned brown hair clutched a damp tissue between trembling fingers. Margaret, Elijah’s sister, was the very image of grief.

But no one in that room felt the loss more deeply than Orion. The German Shepherd K9 stood at the entrance of the chapel. His leash held firmly in the hands of the officer who had brought him.