I stood, though my gaze and my heart remained on the stone floor. Attempts to wipe the tears from my eyes only succeeded in smudging gray and black across my face, a sad raccoon in tattered armor. The night’s clouds parted allowing the moon smile down through stained glass windows, rendering their vibrant scenes in dull silvers and shadows.

That seemed fitting.

I shuddered. I spat, a mixture of phlegm, blood, and disgust. I forced my shoulders to arch back a little.

Soren would want me to be strong. Soren would want me to go on.

My eyes finally strayed to the carnage, a score or more bodies, acolytes to a false god and our own fallen brethren. The stench of death was starting to waft with the smoke and embers to the cathedral’s high ceiling.

Soren would want it to be done.

Sword dangling limply from my off hand, I staggered through the haze to the shattered doors.

I called back, “I shall bury you in the morning, my love. For now, one last burden to quit before the dawn.”