Demios Blaise had never been what a person would call a normal girl. When she was young, she had never cared for the dresses or dolls that the other girls would play with, preferring instead to wear the clothes of her older brother and play the rough and dangerous games with the boys. When she first told the boys that she was going to play with them, they had told her she was not allowed to because she was a girl and would get hurt. That boy was sent home to his mother crying with a bloody nose. The other boys had ganged up on her to get revenge. They all were crying at the end of the scuffle. She never shed a tear. The boys did not argue when she came to play after that.
She Awakened at fifteen like most in the kingdom did, and was blessed with a Spirit that gained her entrance into the Royal Knight Academy. Of her squad of seven, only two of them had survived to graduation. And now eight years after graduation, she was the only one from her squad still above the ground. Even with the loss of her closest friends and companions, she never cried.
Now at the age of twenty-five she was in charge of teaching and guiding a squad of knight recruits. Standing at just over six feet tall, she carried herself with pride. Her body was comprised of thick muscle, her dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail with the sides of her head shaven. Combining this with her Brand originating on her chin and working down her neck, she cut a very intimidating figure that very few would ever call feminine. She did not mind. Right now she wore a black silk cloak over her black leather and steel studded armor, black eye liner and lipstick tastefully applied to her face, though this was a daily look for her.
She stood in the courtyard of the Church as the Cleric of Libitina, the Goddess of Death, called upon the deity to grant a peaceful rest to the two young warriors who had died on their first mission; in their first week at the Academy. It was not a strange thing for students to die during missions; Demios had seen it many times. What was shocking had been the appearance of an Eye. If they had known that such a thing would happen…
She shook her head. Those occurrences were impossible to predict. And so what if they could have known? Would she have insisted on her own squad going along too? Sending two squads for a simple escort had already seemed like overkill at the time. If she had been there, could she have helped keep everyone alive? Or would there just be more funeral pyres set up today?
Demios looked over her shoulder at her assembled squad, six knights; no, six kids in black clothes staring forward with vacant eyes. Shoulders trembling. Fists clenched tight. Knees shaking. She could imagine the thoughts going through their heads right now. They had all been in class together only a few days ago. Smiling and laughing together. Now two of them were gone, never to be seen again.
Her eyes moved across the courtyard, taking in the all too familiar sights once again. There was a man with blurry eyes clutching the hand of a small girl who stood at his side, her eyes staring blankly at one of the pyres. Beside him was a large woman holding a small boy in her arms while a man stood beside her with two more little ones at his side. The woman was sobbing into a handkerchief as the child on her arm fussed.
The Academy staff were all present. Calvin Horn stood with his head bowed, Margo Deer was off to a far side with her children and husband, Kendra Sawn was near the back of the courtyard doing her best to not be heard; the woman had always been an unusually loud crier. Even the Headmaster, Calder Henwick was here. Standing over by the families, he wore black and silver robes, though his mask was still in place as ever. One could almost mistake him for a statue he stood so still right now; as if he were an envoy of Libitina here to personally carry the souls of the fallen to the Goddess at the Lake of Rebirth.
Her eyes went back to the Cleric as he continued the ritual. Demios had never become too familiar with the Pantheon of Gods, but she was familiar with Libitina at least. The Goddess’ crest on the Cleric’s robes was a golden washboard, said to represent the Goddess’ action of washing the souls of the dead in the Lake of Rebirth to allow them to come back to the world as new beings, free of all past sin and sorrow. It was a pretty idea, but Demios was not a true believer. To her it was just that; a pretty story. Death was death, and the dead were not washed. They were burned.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
As though to prove her point, the Cleric’s ritual ended, and two Acolytes approached the families, each carrying a lit torch. Another tradition that Demios found distasteful. Why would you ask the family to light the pyre of their deceased child? To her surprise, the father who had been keeping two little kids under control up until now accepted the torch offered to him. He turned and hugged his wife before approaching the pyre with the boy on it.
The bodies had been prepared by the Acolytes of Libitina, now dressed in white robes; they had been, for lack of a better term, sewn back together. For the best. Demios had seen what a body looked like after a battle with a Terror. She could not imagine anyone wanting to see their loved one in that state.
The man with the young girl cried harder when a torch was offered to him, and Evander stepped up to the Acolyte and took the torch in his stead. He placed a reassuring hand on the grieving father’s shoulder before turning and approaching the pyre alongside the other man, who walked up and stood beside the boy’s, Samuel’s, pyre. With a nod from the Cleric, both men set the torches to the kindling, and the flames began to grow and consume the pyres; hiding them in a torrent of smoke and fire.
Many of those who had managed to keep their emotions in check until now broke, sobbing into their hands or turning away from the scene. Behind her, Demios heard a sniffle and turned to look. Anthony’s eyes swam with tears, his throat tight and upper lip twitching as he fought to keep his tears at bay. She understood. He was the captain. The others looked to him as their leader, and he was doing his best to be strong. Demios approved, but also understood that there was a time to be strong, and a time to be human. She half turned and reached out, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. His mournful gaze turned to her, and she gave him a soft, reassuring smile. That was all it took. The dam he had been fighting to maintain broke, and he sobbed, tears flowing down his cheeks as he cried. Behind him the rest of the squad fell apart, breaking down into their own storms of sorrow.
Demios turned back to face the pyres, then cast a curious eye at the other squads. Evanders remaining four were all standing strong; their leader, the son of Guard Captain Kerach, looked like he was trying to break his own hands; they were clenched so tightly. His face was set strong, the muscles in his jaw working as he fought to keep his emotions in check, though a solitary tear had escaped from him, slowly rolling down his cheek.
Davon’s squad, who had been at the battle as well, looked no better. The Halfwing girl was hugging the petite girl, both weeping openly. Demios couldn't help but notice the taller girl was wearing some elbow length black leather gloves, something she had never seen on the young woman before. The red haired boy was not with the squad, instead at the back of the courtyard leaning against the stone wall, his head lowered. The black haired spellcaster was wearing a wide brimmed black hat and gripping a copy of the Teachings of Libitina with white knuckled hands. The strange girl with wild hair was standing with a burning candle held in front of her chest, her head back and eyes up at the sky, her mouth working soundlessly in what Demios could only assume was a prayer of some kind. Lastly was the arrogant brat, the youngest child of the Pendra household. Demios was somewhat shocked to see him standing listlessly, his eyes blankly fixed on the pyres as they burned, his little red Spirit resting on his shoulder, its head lowered in what could almost be considered reverence.
To her left should have been Tywin’s squad, but they had set out the day before on a mission of their own; traveling with one of the army battalions to search the area where the Eye had touched down and ensure that all Afflicted were dead. Demios was positive that Tywin would not be letting a single one of his charges out of his sight for the duration of that mission. As much of a tough front he put on, he was a big softie who viewed each and every one of his recruits as a younger sibling.
The flames of the pyres were all but out after a half hour. The Acolytes approached the families and let them know that their loved one’s ashes would be brought to them the next day. The gathered crowd slowly began to disperse. After another few minutes, only the Academy staff remained, along with the Cleric and the Acolytes, both of whom were now carrying urns and standing by the remains of the pyres, waiting for the flames to fully extinguish.
The teachers and other squad leaders all exchanged a hard yet solemn look. They all shared the same thought; the same desire; that this be the last funeral they attended for these kids. The unfortunate reality was that this was impossible. They all knew it. The life of a Knight was of hardship. These kids were now coming to understand what it was they had signed up for when they enrolled. And try all they might, the instructors could only do so much to ensure that they would live to a ripe old age. The best they could hope for right now was to get them through the year.