As his eyes opened, they felt grainy and sore. He reached up and rubbed them, clearing his blurry vision. He didn’t recognise the ceiling of the room he was looking up at, and it took him a few moments for his brain to kick in. Realisation flooded back to him.

“You’re awake again.” A gentle voice said.

Harm vaguely recognised it in his sleep-hazed state.

“Wes?” he said as he turned to look at the man sitting in his armchair, leaning forward.

“Harm. How are you feeling?” Wes’s face was creased with worry.

“Where am I?”

“You are at mine. I couldn’t leave you at the farm alone,” Wes said. The comment hit Harm like a sprinting troll. 

“What happened to me?”

“You were in no fit state. When I returned with the guard and the cleric, she declared you should be put to sleep for your sanity.”

“She put me to sleep?”

“Yes. You have been asleep for six hours or so now.”

Harm sat up, rolling his legs off the sofa he was lying on, and groaned as he did. His whole body ached as though he had been hammering fence posts all day. Tanya entered the room as he did.

“Harm, my poor dear. Would you like a tea?” Tanya asked.

“Please,” he said, rubbing his head. Whatever the spell was that had been cast on him had left his mind feeling foggy.

Harm remembered that he needed to deal with the remains of his family. His heart was already shattered and could break no more from the sheer pain he had suffered finding them all dead. 

“I need to bury my...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as grief caught his words.

“They are here in town. Sister Carol ensured they were wrapped and brought back to the town chapel,” Wes said, holding his hands up to placate Harm, who had appeared ready to stand.

Harm was not sure how to respond to the man. He really didn’t know him that well, and he had taken him into his home in his hour of need. 

“They are being tended to. You will see them when you are ready,” Wes said. “Tanya and I have decided that you are staying here for now. She has sorted the spare room out for you and cleared Poppy’s belongings, which she left behind. You are welcome to stay for as long as you need to. While you come to terms with the ordeal and decide what you wish to do now.”

“I can’t put you out. I can go back to the farm.”

“NO!” Tanya said firmly, walking back in and carrying a small tray with three mugs of steaming tea on it. “You are staying here until you are fit to be left alone. I have seen what grief can do to a man, and you will not be left alone until you are ready.”

Harm just stared at her, dumbfounded. Tanya had never said so many words to him before. This woman, who now stood in front of him, carried a strength and resolve he had never seen before. Tanya handed him a mug. “Thank you,” Harm said, taking it and cradling it in his hands. “I really don’t know what to say or do.”

“For now, you just need to accept what has happened and look into the future. I know it may look bleak at present, but you can’t let a natural occurrence stop you. It’s hard to understand how nature affects Amathera. There are enough monsters in the land as they are, never mind diseases and illnesses. Dahlia and the kids would hate to see you if you spiral into self-pity.” Wes said.

The sound of his wife’s name rang in his head, never mind the thought of his angelic children. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. Tanya noticed, removing a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and handing it to him. He took it kindly and dabbed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tanya said, smiling softly at him and resting her hand on his arm.

They drank the tea in silence, and Tanya only offered Harm a refill when he placed his empty mug down.

“Not at the moment, thanks. I should really go to the chapel.”

“I will come with you,” Wes said. “Let me just feed the animals. Actually, you can come and give me a hand.”

With nothing else to do, Harm followed Wes from the room to the barn on the property. Numbness filled every fibre of his body, his muscles working on autopilot, and he could not remove the blank faces of his lost family from his mind’s eye.

The menagerie of creatures took thirty minutes to receive their feed. The distraction of the animals kept Harm’s mind busy. After feeding the animals, they went to the chapel.

The chapel was situated west of the town, just over the river, which was crossed by a wide stone bridge. At any other time, it would have looked picturesque and welcoming. Today, as the light was fading, the chapel’s yard gave Harm a sense of foreboding. Harm stopped as they reached the entrance.

“Are you ok?” Wes asked.

“I’m not sure,” Harm said, breathing deeply and trying to remain calm. He could feel panic rising in his chest, and it felt tight, as though someone was sitting on it. His hands were clammy, and he stared at the wooden doorway with the intricate figures of the gods of Amathera carved into it. Wes stood patiently at his side, waiting for him. 

“You don’t have to go in if you aren’t up to it,” Wes said. “I can go and speak to Sister Carol if you would prefer?”

“No. I have to do it myself,” Harm said, stealing himself and stepping to the door. 

Harm gripped the large handle and turned it. The latch clunked ominously as it rose, allowing him to open the door. Pulling the door open, he stalled for a second before stepping into the chapel. He rarely visited the chapel, as the services were often in the mornings when he would usually be busy on the farm. Dahlia and the kids frequently came down, usually at least once a week, to pray to the gods. 

Dahlia always prayed to Gaptu, the god of hunters, and had, occasionally, been granted a daily boon. When he did pray, he always prayed to Kolithic, the god of farmers. In his adventuring days, he had always prayed to Nefaris, the god of warriors. Harm had never been fortunate enough to receive a boon from Kolithic, but because of his infrequent amount of prayer, he had never been surprised. It was apparent that those who prayed often appeared to receive boons more frequently. A bitter thought crossed his mind: had he prayed more, would any of this have happened?

Soft lantern light lit the chapel’s interior. From the entrance, it led into the main chamber, where the pews sat. The central aisle ran to a small altar. In front of the altar were three trestle tables with wooden caskets sitting on them. He slowly proceeded down the aisle.

Sister Carol heard the chapel door being opened and appeared from a small arched door behind the altar, which led to her private quarters. She didn’t speak and watched as Harm approached the caskets. 

Harm neared the larger of the caskets and paused for a moment before he made the final step forward. Closing his eyes as he approached, he stopped and then, slowly opening them, looked down. Wrapped in a pristine white sheet, he looked at the face of his beloved Dahlia. She looked so peaceful and had a calming smile on her lips. Her eyes were closed, and if Harm hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was sleeping. Her beauty glowed, and Harm’s heart broke.

He reached out and gently placed his hand on her cheek. The stark cold, compared to her usual warm skin, met his hand, and he flinched from the feeling. Gently, he stroked her hair as tears fell from his eyes.

“I am sorry” were the only words he could manage. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he leaned forward and kissed her gently on her forehead. Then he moved to the other two caskets, where he first saw Marius’s perfectly calm face and then little Yonda. They all looked peaceful and serene. He reached into both caskets, taking hold of their hands, the icy touch sending a shiver down his spine.

He didn’t wail or scream. He just cried, tears dropping onto the stone floor of the chapel. Wes had stayed back, allowing him his space to grieve for his loved ones. Sister Carol had come around the altar and was sitting with Wes a few rows back, whispering as Harm allowed his pain to leave him. Eventually, Harm turned to look at them both, sitting silently and watching him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face pale, drained of blood.

“Thank you, Sister,” Harm said.

“My dear. You do not need to thank me. Your family was always so warm when they visited the chapel. Little Yonda was always interested in everything I did, and would often leave a wildflower on the altar for Kolithic. She always said he looked after daddy's cows. I will miss them all dearly.”

Harm looked down, guilt again taking him. He rarely attended with his family and knew little of their interactions at the chapel. The thought that his angelic daughter offered a present to his profession's deity felt like a knife in his gut; he had never known.

“How much do I owe?” Harm asked.

“For what?” Sister Carol asked, slightly taken aback.

“For your time.”

“Oh my. Nothing. Harm you have suffered more this day than most. I would never consider charging anything for doing my duty as the local cleric. The town pays for my time, not residents.”

That wasn’t actually true since the town charged residents taxes, which meant that they did really pay for her time, but Harm was in no fit state to argue the point.

“Thank you for what you have done for them. They look so peaceful.” He said as he turned and looked back at the caskets.

Sister Carol didn’t respond and just nodded politely.

“When can I arrange a funeral for them?”

“Whenever you are ready. There is no rush if you wish them to remain on show for a day or so. It is entirely your choice how quickly you wish to proceed.”

“I don’t want them ever to go, but I know I must let them join the requiem.”

“Indeed, we will all end there eventually,” Sister Carol said. “I can arrange a service for tomorrow afternoon if that suits you.”

Harm looked at Wes for advice. Wes had nothing to say and shrugged, feeling useless.

“Yes. Please do,” Harm eventually replied.

“I will have it announced at the town square. Shall we say three tomorrow?”

Harm just nodded in agreement. He did not know if it was right or wrong to do so.

“Dahlia’s parents,” Harm said. He hadn’t spoken to his parents for years and wasn’t even sure if they were alive. They had never met Dahlia or the kids. They lived three territories over, and it was at least a two-week journey to reach them. Dahlia’s parents, on the other hand, lived only a day away in a small hamlet to the north on the territory border.

“Actually, Sister. I need to see Dahlia’s parents. They were not very close, but close enough that we saw them annually, at least. I really should give them a chance to see their daughter one last time.”

“That is perfectly understandable. They can be moved to the chapel storage area, and the preservation spell will last at least a week.”

“That would be appreciated. I can’t bury them without her parents being aware.”

“Are you going to be ok travelling to Dahlia’s parents? The roads aren't as safe as they used to be, especially in your current state?” Wes asked.

“I must,” Harm said. “Thank you again, Sister. I will set off first thing tomorrow and get back here as soon as I am able.”

“Of course. May the gods be with you.”

Wes stood and followed Harm as he walked from the chapel. The sun had disappeared on the horizon, and a full moon lit the night sky. Harm stopped at the entrance to the chapel grounds, a chilly breeze blew across the chapel grounds, and he looked up at the stars. He used to sit with Dahlia on the porch of the farm, looking up at the stars that lit the sky. They would often talk about the great battles they all represented. Dahlia had wished that she would one day join those who protected the skies of Amathera—that day had come too soon.

A fresh tear ran down his cheek as he sniffed, and Wes took his arm gently.

“Come on, Harm. Let’s get some food. I have a nice bottle of wine from Henry’s that we can pop the cork on and drink to Dahlia and the kids.”

Harm turned and looked at Wes. Although he was a good six inches taller, he felt like a small child under the older man’s watchful gaze as he allowed Wes to steer him back to his home.