Goodbye To Winter

The fortress was quiet now, an almost eerie calm settling over the battered walls. The siege was over, but the scars remained - charred timber, shattered stone, and the bodies of those who had fought and fallen. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, though less insistently than before, dusting the remnants of the battlefield like a pale shroud.

Survivors gathered at the central square, forming a somber circle around the pyres prepared for the fallen. Soldiers, citizens, and clerics alike bowed their heads. Their voices were heavy with grief as names were read aloud. Each utterance carried the weight of memory and loss, a reminder of the friends, comrades, and leaders who had given everything.

Some names, like Ryoshin and Morrin, brought silent tears; others murmured quietly, forgotten by the world yet remembered here.

Branek’s name was called. Noel and Akari deeply bowed and put a hand to their hearts.

Then the final name was called: Caldris Torven Maerholt.

Seren knelt at the edge of the circle, Caldris’s body wrapped carefully in a ceremonial shroud. The friendly knight’s usually smiling face seemed to sleep peacefully like he would wake up any second. Barkley paced at his side, nose pressed to the ground, whimpering softly. Seren’s hands trembled as he brushed a lock of hair from Caldris’s face, eyes misted with grief. Every movement and every sigh seemed to echo the weight of the loss - the loss of a best friend, a comrade, a protector.

Lysandra stood nearby, robes dusted with frost and ash, her hands clutched at her chest. The wariness and careful composure that had carried her through battle had broken, revealing the full extent of her raw grief beneath. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, but she drew in slow, steady breaths.

Mira, her own injuries now tended to, watched quietly. She had started to move on, her resilience becoming apparent as she comforted the people closest to her. Though sorrow lingered, the warmth of her spirit reminded those around her that life would continue.

Father Tharen moved calmly among the survivors, speaking quietly to those who sought guidance. When he found Noel and Akari, he paused, hands folded. His expression was gentle, eyes heavy with the weight of all he had witnessed.

“I plan to leave once the snow lets up,” he said softly, voice steady but tinged with melancholy. “There is more to do elsewhere. The North… is safe for now due to everyone’s efforts.”

Akari, still adjusting to her now human flame spirit form, inclined her head respectfully toward Tharen.

The wolf Barkley padded forward, nudging Noel with a firm, reassuring push. “Seren will need time,” he said, gaze flicking to the still-grieving warrior. “But you… you’ve earned this. You are now the head of the mage-knights. Caldris, Seren, and I discussed it before. Lead them well.”

Noel’s lips pressed together, a mix of pride and sorrow in his eyes. The weight of those lost pressed on his shoulders, but he drew a steadying breath. “I will… I’ll do everything I can. For everyone who gave their lives.”

Barkley turned toward Akari, eyes bright and approving. “And you… your new form suits you. You fought bravely. They’ll see your light now, in every way.”

Akari’s golden eyes, bright against her flame-orange hair, softened as she looked at the wolf. The ribbons in her hair jingled faintly as she took in the surroundings.

The broken walls, the silent watchers, and the snow-laden ground. She understood that those who had survived would look to her differently, now seeing her not just as a companion or a young mage, but as something new, something inspiring. And yet… she would always remain herself, lighthearted and kind. She knew that slowly, the tension would ease; small nods, polite bows, and whispered words of gratitude would be replaced with friendly smiles.

The funeral proceeded, one pyre after another, until only silence remained. Noel and Akari stood together, hands brushing slightly as they surveyed the burnt square. Their minds turned to those they had lost - the brave, the kind, the young, the wise. The fallen had defended them, given their lives so that others might live, and now it was their turn to remember.

“I’ll remember them,” Noel murmured, voice low but firm. “Every one of them. Always.”

Akari nodded, fire dancing softly along her form as her new magic subtly shimmered around her. “Me too. We’ll carry their memory, their courage… and make sure their sacrifices weren’t ever in vain.”

Seren remained at the edge of the square, placing a brooch on Caldris;s chest. He looked at him one last time before laying him upon the pyre. The captain let his friend be taken by the gods. His roars of grief had quieted to low, shuddering sobs. Barkley lingered nearby, silent but steadfast, offering the presence of a guardian even in the deepest depths of mourning.

The wind picked up gently, scattering the last of the lingering snowflakes across the courtyard. The heavy snowfall of the past weeks had ceased, leaving the world clear and quiet, as though nature itself had paused to honor the fallen. Repairs could begin. Reconstruction could start. Life would move forward.

Noel led Akari toward the northern wall, now partially reconstructed but still bearing deep scars from the siege. “We have work to do,” he said quietly, voice carrying both determination and reverence.

Akari nodded, glowing faintly in the dimming light. “And we will,” she replied softly, her gaze sweeping over the gathered survivors. “We’ll rebuild… and we’ll live. For them. For tomorrow.”

As they turned to oversee the beginning of reconstruction, the people of the fortress moved around them, beginning the long process of clearing debris, shoring up walls, and tending to the injured. Each motion carried weight, each step a quiet testament to resilience. The light of the hearths mingled with the fading daylight, casting warm glows across frost-covered stone and snow-dusted roofs.

For the first time in weeks, the fortress felt like a home again. The siege had ended. The losses were immense. But the living endured. And with Akari now reborn and the survivors determined, there was hope that the scars would heal, that bonds would strengthen, and that this world - so fragile, so battered - would see another day.

Time moved on. The snow had stopped. And life, fragile but persistent, continued within the walls of the fortress.