In the realm of Epesia, there were as many gods as stars in the sky. Powerful gods held sway over the forces of nature and the balance between life and death, while diminutive gods held providence over more mundane matters such as pottery and love.

When Gigi was a young girl, she believed in all of them. Their stories of heroism and romance entranced her. She prayed and offered to them earnestly. She was so devout that she never missed temple and had even been in training to be a priestess when she first became a woman.

Then, her father died.

Gigi fidgeted in her black dress in the crowd at the funeral procession. She didn’t like thinking about the gods now. It was rare that she did so. There were times, though, that demanded thoughts of the unknown be entertained. The big question was why they were here and whether that query had a satisfactory answer. The gods and the afterlife imprisoned her attention today.

Frank Brontes, a family friend and cyclops, had finally died. He had been the patriarch of the Brontes family for Gigi’s entire life. The wizened cyclops had died at the ripe old age of two-hundred-and-thirty-seven. Frank had been one of the lives lost during the attack of the trolls. Gigi heard he died heroically.

She wasn’t exactly close with him. However, all the trade families shared a mutual respect and adoration for one another, even the Assassins’ Guild. She felt a connection even if she hadn’t been friends with him.

Drake stood awkwardly beside her as they made their way to the town center. Since the night the trolls raided Poppy, Drake had become a local celebrity. She supposed saving the village would have that effect. Children flocked to him whenever they made deliveries together. He seemed to love the attention of the kids. It made her happy to see the children smile when he made their shadows come to life.

Gigi could tell the attention from the adults had made her partner far more uncomfortable. He shrank away from the enthusiastic pats on the back the men of Poppy doled out. Drake could hardly meet the flirtatious gazes he received from women. He certainly hadn’t seen the withering glares Gigi had jealously given out in kind.

She wasn’t sure why, but she felt very protective of the man beside her. The witch said his tattoos were a contract with a being behind the Veil. She knew Drake had access to powers she couldn’t even imagine. Yet, that didn’t change the fact that he needed her to protect him. Without question, he had gotten her out of a jam with the trolls and had been a surprisingly good coach, but for all his strength, there was so much he didn’t know. So many people would exploit his gifts for themselves, and worse, he may let them.

Gigi wanted to know more about what had happened before they met, but whenever she tried to fill in those pages, he just went silent and tried to change the subject. She learned from his scars and the way he shook when he thought nobody was looking that whatever he endured had been monstrous. One day, she would find the captain and Gaius and make them wish they’d never come screaming into this world.

She looked at him, noticing his discomfort, and gave him a sad, tiny smile before squeezing his hand. “Everything is okay,” Gigi promised.

***

Drake felt nervous in the massive group, especially now that everyone seemed to know who he was—a tragic necessity fate had demanded of him. He had blown his cover and would await the consequences. He felt incredibly anxious when Gigi handed him a black tunic and told him they would represent the bakery at a funeral. A couple typically represented each family, and it was either him or her mother.

Funerals were strange affairs to Drake. In no small part because he had caused far more than he had ever attended. The funerals for his knights were small, banal affairs, more like the dumping of garbage than the honoring of a life. He knew that would have been his fate if he had not found Poppy, a life without Gigi.

He had certainly never been to a funeral with so many people. He was in awe of just how many people they walked beside. Drake assumed whoever died must have been a great person. He wondered if he died tomorrow, how many of them would come? He pictured his death on the battlefield, one he’d pictured a thousand times before. The end would not come from the edge of a blade or the tip of an arrow but from within, from the Black Lord.

He would die on the spot when he ran out of shadow to offer his patron. He had never seen it, but he heard it was painful. He wondered how much of his life he had already spent and how much remained in the jar. He grimaced. He looked down to see Gigi give him a sad smile and then grabbed his hand.

When she said everything would be okay, he believed her. He smiled and nodded, squeezing her hand back.

***

Gigi and Drake stood in the procession as the priestess gave the grieving family her sermon. The priestess’s homily shook Gigi’s heart until she could feel her throat burning and tears beginning to bleed into the bends of her eyes. It wasn’t the death of Frank that was making her slip into despair. It was the memories of her own father’s funeral.

It had been a gray, rainy day. She remembered standing at the front with her family, barely sixteen. Gigi wept into her hands, asking the gods why. Why they had taken him, how it had been fair? He had been a good man in an entire world of terrible ones. He had a gentle heart but a mighty hammer. How had he earned this? How had she? Their silence was the only response she received.

It was on that day that she lost her faith. One day, it was a jewel she had clung to like it had brought her life. That day, it turned to ash in her hands, the rain washing away whatever was left. After that, she stopped going to the temple, ended her prayers, and threw away any notion of becoming a priestess.

Her memories robbed her of her present senses, trapping her in the gloomy past. Staring into space, the sermon washed over her. She could feel her mind beginning to untether from the world around her and the body that lived in it. Gigi felt powerless to stop the onrushing despair, and her heart spiraled into the abyss.

***

Drake turned to Gigi and saw her staring a thousand miles into the distance. A frown creased his lips. He had never seen her like this before, and it worried him. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. She seemed to wake from her daze slightly, looking up at him with tearful eyes.

The sight of her crying caused his heart to drop into his stomach. Had he done something? Perhaps he had not done something? He felt her small frame press into his own and her arms wrap around him. Drake relaxed into the hug and slipped his arms around her muscular shoulders.

She cried softly into him as he rubbed her back. There, the pair stood, listening to the sermon for the living and the dead. Finally, it was over, and people began to march toward the surviving family to pay their respects. Tearful goodbyes and well-wishing rippled through the crowd. The couples began to disperse as the funeral ended.

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The pair had not let go of one another. Drake looked down at her hands clutching his arm. She was still crying, tears rolling down her green cheeks like tiny rivulets of rain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Drake.

“Not really,” she confessed.

“Do you want to get something to drink?”

Her ears perked up, and she nodded. Drake had meant tea or water, but Gigi pulled him into the tavern. She dragged Drake to the bar, where Uvara prepared a glass for her loyal patron.

“Haven’t seen you here in a minute, darlin’,” Uvara said warmly. “Looks like you brought a friend again, too... Oh! I know you! You are that nice human boy who helped us with our little troll problem. Drinks are on the house for you.”

“Can I have tea?” Drake asked.

“Gigi, is this guy for real?” Uvara covered her beak as the harpy giggled.

“As a heart attack,” Gigi sighed. “Mead for me, please,” she said, settling onto a stool at the empty bar. Drake frowned and sat beside her.

“Gigi, are you sure drinking will help or make you sadder?” Drake asked with concern.

“I don’t know. But I’m very tired of thinking about him. I’m just tired of thinking,” she sighed. Then she leaned into Drake, letting his form hold hers up.

“Your dad?” Uvara asked as she set down the drink.

“Aye,” she said, scooping up the tankard before her.

“I’ll go make that tea for you, sweetheart. The kettle is in the back. Give you two some time to talk,” the tavern owner said with a wink as she disappeared behind a door.

“I’ve never been to a funeral like that before,” Drake said.

“Well, I’ve been to too many, just like that one,” she said, tipping her drink toward the ceiling before almost slamming it back on the counter.

“Your father’s...”

“Yep.” She took another drink.

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

Gigi looked at Drake and gave him a small smile. “Yeah, me too. I think he would have liked you.”

“Really? Even though I was a soldier? I thought he hated them.”

“Yeah, but you are the same kind of soldier he was. Kind.”

Drake looked away and felt a pang of guilt. “Gigi, I’ve done a lot of terr-”

“Shut up, that was the past. That’s not who you are, and we both know it. He would have seen it, too.” She sat straight and looked at their reflections across the bar's mirror. “Drake, where do you think we go when we die?”

“Where do I think we go? Or where do I hope we go?” he asked.

“Both,” Gigi shrugged.

“Well, I’m not sure I think we go anywhere,” he looked at her reflection. “I think we just close our eyes and go to sleep forever.” He shook his head. “Not very optimistic, I know, but it’s true.” He placed his hand on top of hers. “But where I hope we go, I hope we get to spend our deaths the way we would have wanted to spend our lives, to be somewhere we can love and to be loved.”

Gigi said nothing. She put her face into Drake’s chest and began weeping. They sat at the bar until she ran out of tears but not sadness. Drake wanted to say the right thing, the words that would take her pain away, but he could not find them. Instead, he held her close. He wanted to tell her he loved her and would always be there for her.

Yet, his love had frightened her before, and he did not want to lie and make oaths he couldn’t hold. The question of how much shadow remained needed an answer. Drake knew there was one. He was simply ignorant of the truth. The soldier couldn’t outrun that fate.

Drake heard Gigi gently begin to snore against him. He smiled. Words would have to wait. Drake asked Uvara what they owed, but she balked and told him to take care of her. “Make sure she gets into bed alright, okay, darlin’?”

He nodded as he gently scooped up the pile of melted goblin beside him. “On my life,” he winked at the harpy. The pair made their way out of the tavern and into the street. Gigi curled into her lover as he carried her through the cold fall night. The chill was growing crisp, and the world was increasingly frosty.

With a click, the bakery door opened. Drake awkwardly pushed inside. As they walked through the halls to Gigi’s room, Drake heard Griselda clear her throat. He turned to face her with the bundled-up Gigi in his arms. Griselda eyed her daughter.

“Did the funeral not go well,” she asked dryly.

“Well, she got very sad and then drank until she cried and passed out.”

Griselda sighed. “Sounds about right. I told her she didn’t have to do it, but she insisted it was fine.”

“Sounds about right,” Drake gave a small laugh. “I was going to put her to bed, but after that…can I ask you something?”

Griselda nodded grimly. “You want to know what happened to her father.”

“I do. If that’s okay?” he asked nervously.

She nodded. “Meet me in the living room.”

Drake went to Gigi’s room. Our room, I guess. He walked into the dark room and slipped his love underneath the covers. She mumbled something. He thought he heard his name, but he wasn’t sure. A moment later, she was snoring loudly. Drake smiled and then left to rejoin Griselda.

She was waiting in the living room, watching the fire. Drake took up the seat beside her. “Grenn tells me that you’re brothers now.”

Drake laughed. “He told you about that? I hope that’s okay,” he looked at her.

“You’re a kind man, Drake.” She looked into the fire. “I’m happy that Gigi has you.”

“Me too, she’s…my world,” he said hesitantly.

Griselda looked from the the flames at Drake. “Grenn also told me that you were an orphan…I’m sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.” Drake didn’t say anything. His eyes felt very heavy, and a burning consumed his throat. “You didn’t deserve to lose your brother either.” Her eyes had the same flame as the hearth and the one he recognized in Gigi. “I can’t fix those losses, but I can tell you this: you are part of this family now, too, Drake. You aren’t alone.”

Drake was losing a battle to fight back tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You want to know what happened to Gigi’s father?”

Drake nodded.

“It’s a sad story but not a long one.” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wondered how often she had to tell this story.

“You don’t have to…”

“No. If you and her are going to be together, you need to know, and it’s better if I tell you than for you to try and pry it out of my daughter.” She waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “My husband died saving two kids that had broken through the ice on the river,” she looked down. “He drowned, so they didn’t.” She shook her head. “They have grown up to be fine people too.”

Drake nodded solemnly. “He died a hero.”

“He was a hero. He just died that day.” Griselda stood up from her seat. “You and her are both a lot like him. It worries me, if I’m honest. She could have met the same fate saving you…but I don’t think that ever crossed her mind.” Griselda gave him a wan smile. “She saw someone in need and did everything she could.” She pointed at Drake. “You fought an entire pack of trolls to save a village, but really, to save one woman. I know you would do it again, too.” She sighed. “Honor me this one request: don’t go and die on each other.” She turned from him and walked out of the room. “Goodnight, Drake,” she called from the hall.

Drake was left alone in front of the fire with his thoughts. He did not enjoy this. The specters of the past and future haunted him. Drake could feel the tightening of the Black Lord’s noose around his neck. A vision of his funeral came to him, of Griselda comforting Gigi before his casket. No. Drake cast aside the grim fortune as he rose and doused the fire before going to bed. That night, he held Gigi extra close to him as they slept.