Luminous Dawn

The rain fell softly at first, as if it were mourning for him. It rolled down the polished stone, tracing the carved names like sorrowful fingers. It clung to his uniform, soaked into his skin making him want to shiver, but he did not move. He stood rigid, back straight shoulders square. Even now in his darkest moment, discipline held him upright.

Before him, two headstones.

His wife, his son. 

Beneath their names were simple words etched:

Gone before their time, loved for all of mine.

A few mourners still lingered, black-clad figures shifting uncertainly in the rain. Her family, one by one they approached hi, offering quiet condolences--hushed words of sympathy, murmured regrets, fleeting touches on his arm before they stepped away.

"I'm so sorry, Erhen."

"We miss them too."

"She loved you so much."

"He was such a sweet boy."

Words that meant nothing. Words that changed nothing.

He gave each the same reply: Nothing. His voice felt buried in his throat heavy and useless. And if he moved even an inch his grief would overtake him.

The wind picked up, tugging at coats, turning umbrella's inside out. The mourners didn't hesitate, and began to drift away, swallowed by the grey world beyond the family's gate

He did not watch them go, and instead endured the unrelenting rain that pelted him.

He stared down at the graves, reading and rereading the names as if expecting them to change at the last second. As if the stone might crack open and both would jump out and reveal this to be a sick joke. But the holy ground remained undisturbed, and the coffins lay still beneath the dirt.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until his vision swam with lights, taking in a new breath of cold air. His hands curled into fists. His breath came sharper now, ragged at the edges.

He had promised to protect them. 

A deep rumble shuddered through the sky.

He had failed.

Lightning flickered in the distance, brief and bright, causing the smell of ozone.

His fingers trembled at his side, as if wanting to grasp the hilt of his sword. 

It weighed at his hip, its presence a mockery. It had done nothing when it truly mattered. He had fought, he had bled, he had survived things no man should have, but he hadn't been able to save them.

He had been through hell in that war, and he stood tall in that sea of blood and fire. 

But here in this place of quiet and loss, the weight of all of it threatened to crush him.

Another flash of white-hot light, and a rumble from the heavens.

He closed his eyes and he let himself remember the day he met her.