Heroes of Etheron

The morning was silent, veiled by a soft, relentless rain. The battlefield was far behind them, but the echoes of chaos still lingered in every heartbeat. Today, the warriors of Mirdia stood not as fighters, but as mourners.

Hundreds of caskets lined the rain-soaked earth, stretching in neat, somber rows. Simple wooden coffins for the regular soldiers, five more elaborate ones at the front marked the fallen heroes of Mirdia. Dark cloaks and drenched hoods covered bowed heads. No magic barriers shielded them from the downpour. It was as if every drop of rain helped carry their sorrow.

Arriel stood still in the front ranks, his face blank, soaked hair clinging to his brow. Beside him, Lira said nothing, her gaze fixed on the five hero coffins, eyes unreadable. The cold water ran down their cheeks, mixing with the quiet tears they would not acknowledge.

The priest's voice rang low and even across the field. He chanted a prayer of return to the earth, of rest for the fallen. One by one, names were read aloud. After each, a solemn bell rang once—deep and metallic.

Valtheas stood apart beneath a black tent raised over the mud, his towering figure dry but unsheltered from the weight in the air. Commander Elle stood quietly behind him, arms folded, her eyes locked on the coffins.

When the priest finished, Valtheas stepped forward from the shelter.

In one hand, he held a slim, clear flask filled with amber liquor. He moved toward the front of the graves, ignoring the mud beneath his polished boots. For a moment, everyone watched him in silence.

Valtheas extended his arm outward, flask gripped tightly in his palm. His sharp blue eyes looked over the fallen as if memorizing them.

"May your strength return to the land," he said in a low voice.

He took a single sip, then knelt and poured the rest of the liquor onto the wet earth beside the foremost coffin. The amber liquid vanished into the soil like a final offering. Without another word, he turned and walked toward a magic hover car, waiting for him. Commander Elle quickly open an umbrella to cover Valtheas from rain and walk beside him.

The crowd slowly began to disperse.

Some soldiers walked away with heads down. Others knelt, offering personal prayers. A few younger recruits wept openly. Heroes returned in silence, faces hidden by soaked hoods.

But Arriel and Lira remained.

The last of the coffins were gently lowered into the ground by earth mages, their spells moving slowly, reverently. The rain began to lighten, fading to a mist.

Lira exhaled, her breath catching. Her arms moved without warning, wrapping tightly around Arriel.

He stiffened at first but soon brought his arms around her. They stood like that, unmoving, the last figures on the burial ground. No words were exchanged, none were needed.

The sky began to clear, revealing a pale shard of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Birds chirped faintly in the distance.

Lira pulled back slightly, her eyes red.

Together, they turned and walked back toward the base, their boots splashing gently through the muddy path.

As they walked for quite a distance, Arriel looked back once at the field of graves.