Stormy Weather

Slowly, the dragon dissolved into ash right before their eyes. Like a piece of burning paper, specks of ash danced in the air before turning into nothing. Only a few bones stayed behind, and the only thing left of Phorok was his his own, dragon-bone prosthetic leg.

After the last flakes of ash dissolved like snow on bare hands, nothing remained of the fight aside from the smoke. The house had burned down, the fields were destroyed, and they could only hope the chickens had fled.

It’s almost as if he was never here, Berus thought.

But then he shook his head. That wasn’t true. Phorok lived on, not only in his own memory, but that of Iuria and Mikkah and surely countless others as well. A heavy silence was between the three, and no one knew what to say. But finally, Berus spoke up.

“We should build him a grave.”

His words were thick with sadness. And for the first time since he arrived here, he thought back to his original life. Did his family and friends feel like this when he died? What had they done to remember him? How did they manage this pain, this sadness? And with those thoughts, his own pain grew worse and worse.

The girls barely moved. They were just as exhausted as Berus himself was. But he knew that if he stopped moving now, something would feel wrong. Unfinished.

He touched the skill necklace that hung heavy around his neck. Right now, he couldn’t give himself over to grief. Even though he had died once before, this felt much more real, and much heavier than anything else he had experienced. He grieved not only Phorok, but his own life. His family, his friends. They all had to live with the same pain he experienced now. And it made it so much harder to bear.

“I want him to be remembered.”

“Thank you.”

Iuria’s words were barely audible. But they carried such a gentle tone that he felt warmer now.

“Of course. He was a great person. Fighter. Father.”

Still, he couldn’t deny the spark of anger inside of him. Why did he have to die? Didn’t he consider Iuria’s feelings? All of their feelings? How could he leave them all alone now? He shook his head.

These questions were important, as they showed just how important Phorok had been to them, but it didn’t matter if he could find an answer to them or not.

A few drops of rain fell from the sky. He hadn’t even noticed the weather change. Soon enough, it poured, and the water helped to put out the remaining fire. The metal on Berus’ body cooled down. Before, it had been old and rusty but still passable, but now it was dented and even molten in a few places. His leg still didn’t work, but his other three limbs did. He could walk, even if it was only slowly and stilted.

He walked through the bones that remained of the dragon, and knelt next to Phorok’s prosthetic leg. Surprisingly enough, it looked brand new, as if the dragon’s explosion had cleaned it from all the dirt that had accumulated over the years. It was the first time he got a good look at it as well. Phorok must have spent a lot of time on it, as there were fine carvings decorating the entire leg. There were floral decorations and other repetitive patterns, but also stylized scenes of monsters mid-fight or sleeping. Berus traced them all with his fingers. He never asked Phorok about them. And now, it was too late.

But he would remember him.

“I’ll keep my promise, as best as I can. I will support Iuria, and keep her out of danger. You don’t have to worry. Rest well, now.”

Carefully, he laid the leg on the ground, and looked around. Here, amid the dragon’s bones was a good resting place for Phorok. It even reminded him of that little in-game place, a little bit. It was hidden enough that no one would disturb this place. But they would remember, and they would return once their mission was complete.

Berus nodded to himself, and dragged himself back to the fields. There was barely anything left, but he found a few flowers that had survived the fight and the fire. He carefully picked them. Many of them were limp or missing petals. Still, he tried to treat them as best as he could, and made sure to only take the very best ones. Phorok probably didn’t care if the flowers looked nice, but Berus still wanted to make an effort.

“We will remember you.”

Then, he crawled to the husk of the house. He found a piece of wood, soot-smeared as it was, and used the sword Phorok had given him before their fight to carve his name into it. The six letters were rough and angular, but those who knew who lay there, would be able to read it. Every movement caused another wave of pain to jolt through Berus, but he pushed on. At least his mana reserves were slowly filling up again.

He crawled back to the makeshift grave, and placed both the flowers as well as the wooden plank next to the prosthesis. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a figure, and he turned around. Mikkah supported Iuria, who was determined to come forward. Her eyes were still veiled with tears, but her posture suggested the strength and warmth he knew from her. She looked both ready and not, to confront the death of her mentor and father figure. She had clasped her hands together tightly, as if she wanted to support herself through the gesture. It was in this moment he could really see her as a princess. Without saying a word he stepped aside.

This was not his moment to witness. It belonged to her, and her alone.

She knelt down next to the grave, and didn’t care for the mud that caked her dress. She was silent, but her eyes were racing. He was sure that she was saying her goodbyes in thought, but it remained her secret, just like the tears that ran down her face. Finally, she got up and wiped her tears away. She was still shaking.

“I know I can’t demand this of you, but I have to ask,” she said, and her voice quivered. “I need you to take me to the king. I have to know what happened to my father. I have to confront him.”

“Of course. That has been our goal all along,” Mikkah said with a soft smile and sad eyes. There was no trace of her usual happiness.

“She is right. We will support you as best as we can.”

“Thank you. Can you give me a moment of privacy, then?”

“Sure. I have to look at Berus’ injuries, anyways.”

With that, Mikkah and Berus made their exit. They both turned their back to Iuria as fast as they could, and walked towards the forest. But still, they heard her sobbing, howling cries.