Chapter 30 - Kindled

The entire village is gathered in a small clearing just outside the northern palisade. Two pyres, constructed from neatly stacked logs of wood, stand as stoic monuments. 

A collective grief, muffles the usual sounds of life.

This is the first time I have seen the community as a single, breathing entity, and their unity is heartbreaking. 

I try to stand near the back, feeling like an intruder as the sorrow is too deep and intimate for me to fully comprehend.

Riel stands at the front, near the pyre where his sister’s body is wrapped. His face is a veil of stone. He doesn’t weep. He simply stands there, like a statue to his grief. 

Several villagers approach him, offering a hand on his shoulder or a whispered word of comfort, but he remains unmoved, locked in a private world of loss.

Orville moves to the front, and somehow the already still atmosphere becomes even more unmoving. 

“We gather not to mourn the woman who risked her life to protect us, but to cherish the memory of a daughter, a sister, a friend. Anya was full of fire and laughter. We will not let the darkness that took her extinguish that fire from our hearts.” He does not speak of vengeance or anger, his eulogy is woven from memory and love.

He speaks of Maris next, of his quiet strength and his unwavering dedication. As he speaks, I watch the faces in the crowd, as they’re etched with the sadness of seeing another young life cut short. I can see not just grief, but a shared history of connections that make this village a single, wounded body.

The feelings are all too familiar to me but I can’t bring myself to shed a tear. 

A fierce urge rises within me as I feel a frustration burn against my skin.

I don’t just want to survive here. I want to belong here. I want to be a thread in this village’s tapestry, not just an observer watching it unravel. I want to be able to feel for these people who have lost someone they love. 

As the eulogies finish, Riel takes the torch and steps forward. The flame touches the base of Anya’s pyre and then Maris’s. The wood catches quickly, the flames climb the logs with a hungry roar, reaching for the grey sky. 

The heat washes over the village and cleanses the frigid despair.  Riel finally speaks as he becomes the grim conductor of this newly reformed community. “There is no time for tears!” he barks. “The dead are honoured by the living. Now, we must live!”

Riel’s war cry is a beacon, born from the heart of his grief. The village doesn’t cheer; instead, a silent, unified resolve composes the crowd into action.

The gloom has been cauterised as people begin to disperse, not back to their homes, but towards the village centre. 

Orville moves to Riel’s side, placing a heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder. Riel doesn’t flinch.

I can’t quite discern what Orville says to Riel but it must have had an impact as for the first time, Riel turns his head to meet Orville’s. 

A posture of command arrives at his shoulders, and he seems to stand taller, straighter, cast anew in the heat of the flames.

I follow the stream of people back through the gates. A large chalkboard has been erected in the village square. There is no panic, only a chillingly organised hum of activity.

“All those willing and able to fight, report to the barracks for appraisal!” A guard who I think is Ganza calls out.

A handful of men and women immediately break from the crowd and march towards the barracks.

“We need stone and lumber teams on the southern palisade! We need anyone remaining to help Taelun to get our weapons sharpened! And can someone find Elara, we need to begin preparing bandages and boil-clothes.” You’d almost think he was the captain with the certainty that hangs from his words. 

I spot Orville overseeing the distribution of tools. “Chief!” I run over to his side. “What can I do to help out?”

He looks tired, “Shikara we have everything we need, you need to continue your work with Clovis.”

His words feel like a dismissal, but I am trying to turn over a new leaf and do as I am told. 

I find Clovis staring out her window, her arms wrapped around herself. I give a slight wave and she gestures for me to come in.

I can see the cracks in her composure. Her expression is neutral but she cannot hide the faint redness around her eyes or the rigid set of her jaw. 

She doesn’t need me to support her, she’s made that clear already. 

What she needs is someone who can take the burden off of her.

It’s time for me to prove my worth.