Kingdom of Loradel, Hansel Cemetery, Present day.
Anaria quivered as the dusk air kissed her cheek. She stood over a mound of soil; one of many that lined the edge of the graveyard. "May you rest in peace and never lose yourself in the desert of Solitude." She herself had lost count of how many times she had said those words. In the past, she was always asked to pray over the dead of the village; at times even preparing a eulogy to the fallen. A warm hand clasped her shoulder.
"How are you doing, vuari?" Roy gave her a gentle pat.
Vuari? The elven word for sister, a nickname she hadn't heard in a long time. "I'm doing fine. I simply grieve for loss of all those who lost a loved one during the attack." She felt a twitch in her lip but immediately exhaled in attempt to shake away the threat of tears.
Many of the villagers were scattered throughout the small graveyard which had a small wooden fence around its perimeter. Each of them at the side of their fallen loved ones with eyes bloodshot from tears. Caked with dirt and shared frowns, they remained silent. Wives had become widows; mothers had lost sons, and some children now wore the title of Orphan.
Anaria moved over to the next mound.
A woman was on her knees as she held a young girl in her arms.
Anaria recognized her as a dagger of guilt pierced her conscious.
"Don't cry now," said the mother. "Petra wouldn't want to see you crying like this would she?" Her voice cracked. "See." She pointed at Anaria. "Anaria is here to pray for your big sister." She sniffled and wiped away her daughter's tears. "She's going to make sure that Petra makes it to the other side."
Roy leaned into Anaria's ear. He spoke in a hushed whisper. "It's ok to cry, she was your friend as well."
"No." She retorted. "I can't let these people see me cry, not here, not now… I'm expected to help see them off. It's their time to mourn."
Petra's mother grasped her hand. "Thank you."
Anaria leaned down and clasped her hand over the woman's. In shuttered breaths she spoke once again. "Kailarah: Mother of Elsire, we plead that you take this soul and allow her to find peace in your garden." As she said the words, her final thoughts drifted away. It was time to say goodbye to her friend.
"Thank you, child." The mother said once more.
"What do you think you're doing?" Roy's voice blurted out. He was talking to a group of men that pulled a wagon into the graveyard. On it were the bodies of the Zuland soldiers, including Raikal, the man that had taken Petra's life.
Anaria looked away as a collection of disgust swirled in her gut.
One of the men spoke. "We were just bringing the bodies of soldi—"
"And what? You were going to bury them alongside our friends? Our family?" Roy scoffed. "No. You may bury them…but not here."
All eyes were on them, though no one flinched or said a word.
Anaria tried keeping her gaze from the cart, though it was next to impossible once she saw the body of a young knight. Though she couldn't recall his name, she remembered that he was one of the few that didn't harass the townsfolk. Matter of fact, he had taken a liking to the butcher's daughter and even treated the people with care. He must have fallen on the night the demons attacked. "Roy," she called.
"Wait, vuari," he answered, without turning to face her. Though his voice had dimmed down, he still wore a mask of disappointment.
"Roy, I think they should be buried here," she said abruptly.
He turned and sighed. "I know how you must feel. But we've never buried outsiders here. I hold no hatred towards them."
"I know, but they deserve their chance at peace as much as anyone else."
Roy simply gave the men a nod. "Get on with it."
The wagon creaked as the men pulled the cart deeper into the graveyard, leaving only the stench of death in its wake.
"You know, sis…you're too kind." Roy's frown shifted into a grin as he embraced her for a moment. "And that is why I love you."
The happiness that came with his smile lifted the weight off her shoulders. "Thank you."
"We've never buried outlanders in our soil—these are confusing times, aren't they? People waking from their infinite rest as monsters in the dark—like something you'd read about in a book."
Anaria voiced her most recent thought. "Do you think Xeto will be alright? After what he's done?"
Roy didn't meet her gaze. He folded his arms. "He's the same boy he was when he left, that's what I've told myself."
"And?"
"Seeing him kill without hesitation was unnerving, he's still my friend, I know he is. It's just hard to see how the world has shaped him is all. Now that kasaber a war is coming because of what happened here." He turned and patted her shoulder with a smile. "Aye, sis, you make sure you use that soft heart of yours, keep him from hurting himself." He stretched lightly. "Suppose I should help with the burials until Xeto is done speaking with the kasaber." He split off and began towards the opposite end of the cemetery.
Anaria clasped her hands together for a quick prayer. Knowing that she did everything in her power to help those in need, both for the living and the dead, put her mind at ease. There was nothing more beautiful than peace, and if the gods answered her prayers, it would remained intact for years.