Risa went back to the table, and sat down heavily. She gazed around at the little trinkets on the walls and shelves. Some were from Papa’s life from before she met him, but she and Mama Sinta had done their best to fill the small home with love and expressions of that love.

There were the clay figurines she had made of the four of them, standing proudly together on the mantle, and over there was a collection of dried flowers Papa kept giving to Mama Sinta every year on their anniversary. Mama couldn’t bear to throw them out, so she dried them, instead. Papa had dutifully kept them in a little blue bowl that he had had for ages. Katira had even carved a likeness of Svarog Himself out of a leg bone from the aurochs from her first feast day, ten years ago.

This wonderfully full house was going to be so quiet after Papa left to join Svarog.

Risa put her face in her hands and cried silent tears. Katira padded over and leapt into her lap, snuggling her child.

“I know it hurts, my love. Believe me, I know the pain of loss all too well. I wept every time I lost my Person. Your great-great-great grandfather was an especially hard loss. We loved each other the way Laszlo and Sinta love each other,” she said. At Risa’s incredulous look, she said, “Oh, yes. I can fall in love just as easily as you can, sweetheart. His children were not mine, but fosters he had taken on from a battle-brother. I apparently cannot bear children the same way you can. But we loved each other, nonetheless. He was nineteen when his uncle passed, and he selected me.

“When he died, I was beside myself with grief. Bigger than I had ever felt before, or since. So now, I have made it clear that I am to go to the youngest of the family, preferably an infant. That way, I can love you the same as a mother could. Not the way a partner would. That was too painful for me.

“When Laszlo passes on, it will hurt immensely. Don’t forget that you have Sinta and myself here with you. We will all need each other when the time comes.”

Risa sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She nodded and turned to the kettle, stirring it slowly.

“I know it’s time for him to go, Katira. I just don’t want him to. I love Papa, and I’m going to miss him. He and Mama Sinta have made my life so much better than it was at home with my mother,” she said softly.

Risa stirred the kettle mindlessly, her body moving automatically. Katira watched her sadly, knowing there was little she could do to help her child.

She slept poorly that night and the next, tending to Laszlo as much as he would allow. She didn’t notice any worsening of his symptoms, but he seemed more and more tired as time went on, and slept later and later.

On the third day, Mama Sinta came home.

“I’m home!” Sinta called out to her family. She backed into the house, carrying a large pack in her arms, its straps broken.

When she got no response, Sinta headed back towards her room, where she saw Risa sitting at a stool, holding Laszlo’s hand.

“Laszlo…” Sinta whispered, dropping her pack.

She darted to his other side, gently taking his hand in hers. She reached up, sniffling, and gently ran her fingers through his wispy, snowy hair.

“Papa… Mama’s here, now. Mama’s here for you, Papa. Please wake up,” Risa said, her voice breaking.

Laszlo’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked over at Risa. He smiled softly. “Hello, my daughter. Don’t frown. I’m feeling better,” he said hoarsely. Risa nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He released Risa’s hand, and gently patted her cheek. Risa noted that his fingers felt like ice on her hot skin.

Looking over at his other side, Laszlo locked eyes with his wife, Sinta. His smile grew wider. “Hello, my love. How I have missed you. Did you come home successful?” he asked softly, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I did, love,” Sinta answered, smiling through the hot tears. “I brought home a deer and some squirrels. I’ll have Risa make us an amazing stew for tomorrow. How does that sound?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“That sounds good, Love,” he said softly. With a sigh, he said, “Svarog gave me the mightiest blessing ever when He graced my life with you three. That seeress was right. The dance of blood and shadow showed me the path to truth. Truth… What a funny….word,” he said, his final breath leaving his lungs, a benevolent smile on his lips.

“Laszlo?” Sinta asked, her face drawn.

“Laszlo? Honey?” she said again, reaching a shaky hand to his lips.

She let out a strangled cry of “Nooo….”

Risa clutched her Papa’s hand to her chest. “Bye Papa. I hope you watch us from the sky. I’ll miss you,” she whispered through her tears.

Sinta wrapped her arms around his body and sobbed loudly. Her wailing could be heard several houses away, which brought neighbors out to see what was the matter.

“Miss Sinta?” came a familiar voice through the door.

“I’ll go, Mama. It’s okay,” Risa said, rubbing Sinta’s back.

She got up, and wiped the tears from her eyes as she walked slowly to the door. On the way, she moved the pack Sinta had dropped to the table.

Opening the door, she saw the familiar face of Karina Čermák, the baker’s wife.

“Risa? Honey, what’s…” she started, trailing off as Risa’s face betrayed her as she broke down sobbing.

Karina quickly swept the young woman into her embrace, and stroked her long hair as she loudly cried. She held her and rocked her gently under the noon sun, whispering soothing words of comfort.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Once Risa had gotten herself under some semblance of control, she pushed herself back gently.

“Papa’s gone, Mrs. Čermák. He’s gone…” she choked out before breaking down again into loud sobs.

Karina felt her soul drop as she held the heartbroken woman. Laszlo? Gone? Sure, he was a little older than her but, so soon? Unbidden, the memories of the confident young man fighting off “dragons” in the woods flashed before her eyes, and she too, began to cry.

************

Three days later, Laszlo’s body had been prepared for his release to the next world. He lay there, clad in his bright, white, clean ritual robes and a secondary necklace around his neck. Risa now wore his official pendant. Risa and Sinta had performed the proper rites to consecrate his body, and the entire village turned out to see him off.

Risa saw to the final preparations of his pyre, helping array the sticks and logs to better see her Papa off. As she finished, she stepped back into the shade of the small building that had been purposefully erected for this day. Quietly, Karina Čermák and Mama Sinta came to stand on either side of her.

“I always thought my first act as priestess of Svarog would be a birth or a harvest blessing. Not Papa’s burial,” she said, her voice distant and thick with emotion.

Both Karina and Sinta put their arms around her and held her close. As they stood there, a young woman, not much older than Risa walked up to them.

“Hello, Karina. I’ve missed you. I wish I didn’t have to come under these circumstances,” she said, extending her hands to the older woman.

Karina wrapped the young woman in a hug. “Oh, Annika. I’m so glad the messenger reached you in time. Were your sisters available?” she said.

“No, ma’am. They’ve all gone and gotten married and have several kids. I’ll be sure to tell them what has happened when I get home. Is this her?” she asked, gesturing to Risa.

“Yes, dear. That’s her. Risa Syvin. Priestess of Svarog, and Laszlo’s adopted daughter. Next to her is Laszlo’s wife, Sinta. Ladies, this is Annika Viserys. The last girl that Laszlo fostered,” Karina said.

Risa reached out and hugged the young woman. As her hands slid down the woman’s arms, she felt a raised scar on her left arm, near her elbow. “Thank you for coming. Papa would be so glad. I never knew he fostered anyone. He never spoke too much about his past, and we figured it was more routine than anything. I guess we were wrong. We should talk later. I-if you’d like to, that is?” she said, uncertainty rising in her voice.

“Absolutely! I would love to get to know my newest sister. I will seek you out after, yes?” Annika replied.

Risa nodded and let the woman go with a smile. As she watched her walk away, she turned to Sinta and asked, “Did you know Papa did that? And apparently more than once?”

“No… I never pried too much into his past. We were too busy enjoying our present, honestly,” she replied.

Risa nodded and looked around at the gathering. It was nearly time. Solemnly, she stood by the head of her father’s pyre, and raised her arms to the noonday sun. A ripple of acknowledgement went through the crowd of villagers, and they all fell back, aligning themselves in a circle around Risa and the pyre.

“Blessed family and friends, we are gathered here today to release Laszlo Syvin into the fiery arms of Svarog. I met Laszlo ten winters ago. My mother had sent me here to undergo a cleansing. Along the way, I met the woman who was to become his future wife; my Mama Sinta. During my time here, I came to love him. I loved him like the father I never knew, because that is what he had become to me. That kind and gentle man that lies there in blissful eternal slumber was the only father I have ever known.

“I will miss you terribly, Papa,” Risa said, her voice breaking.

Sinta stepped forward, and addressed the crowd, “I am Sinta Syvin. I know almost all of you. I came with young Risa ten years ago. Our meeting was a happy accident, and she helped to bring me out of a most terrible situation. I came to love this cheerful, kind soul with all my heart, and this village, too. I now have a home. A home among good people, and close friends. It’s all thanks to this man, my husband, Laszlo.” She stepped forward, and removed a small medallion from her belt pouch, tossing it upon Laszlo’s chest.

“You are the only man I have ever loved, Laszlo. Thank you for being my light in the darkness,” she said in a strangled voice.

One by one, every member of the village of Blek stepped forward with a short tale of how Laszlo had impacted their lives, and tossed a flower or offering onto the pyre. Sinta wept silent tears as she heard so many people come forward with stories of love and how her kind Papa had helped them all.

Karina and Oleg stepped forward as one, their hands entwined. “Laszlo Syvin was my childhood sweetheart. The sweet idiot never took my hand, but he took all of our hearts. Blek loves him, still. I will love him to the end of my days,” Karina said, sniffling.

“Laszlo was an upstanding, strong man. Perhaps not in body, but his spirit was the strongest I’ve ever seen. I will miss my dicing partner, and best friend. Fare ye well, Laszlo Syvin. We will meet once more in Svarog’s hall,” Oleg said, tears streaming down his soft face.

As one, the Čermák family tossed a pair of bundles that split open as they impacted Laszlo’s body, revealing sweet-smelling herbs and flowers.

Annika was last. She approached the pyre slowly, holding a single yellow flower. “Mr. Syvin had a friend rescue me from the streets of my village when I was eight winters old. He took me in and fostered me until we found a home for me. During my time with him, he told me of my other foster sisters, and I’ve sought them out and met them all. My family is so much larger than it ever was before, and now I have a new sister to get to know,” she said softly.

Tossing the flower onto the pyre, she said, “Goodbye Mr. Syvin. I and my sisters thank you for your kindness. Sleep well.”

As the villagers stepped back, and took up unlit torches, Risa raised her arms once more. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon.

Svarog! Hear my plea! Take this man, your priest, into your arms! Hold his spirit close! May his memory be a flame in our hearts forevermore.

Stepping forward, she pulled a torch from the pyre and lit it using her flint. It caught, becoming a bright blaze a moment later. Holding the torch aloft, she waited until the final rays of the day’s light fell upon her father’s pyre, and then set it ablaze.

Flame raced around the perimeter of the logs, creeping toward the body within. As the last of the day’s light disappeared below the horizon, Laszlo Syvin’s pyre became a bright sun, a light in the darkness.

Stepping forward, Risa pulled a burning brand from the pyre, and lit Sinta’s torch with it. Sinta smiled through her tears, and pulled the young priestess into a one-armed hug.

Stepping back, Sinta walked around the circle of villagers, lighting their torches with hers. As they were lit, each person slowly walked back to their home, and placed the torch within their hearth, letting Laszlo’s light guide them through their journey.

Annika let Sinta light her torch, then doused it in a nearby barrel of sand. “Mr. Syvin will light my way home when I leave, Miss Sinta,” she said simply. Sinta nodded, and guided the young woman to her home.

Risa stood before the pyre, watching as Svarog’s flames consumed her Papa. She stood vigil there until the flames died, and the body was little more than ash.

“I love you, Papa. I’ll join you one day. For now, Blek needs me, and I need them. Farewell,” she whispered, and slowly trudged home.