The ground around the great hall of Greenhollow was slick with ice, a gentle snowfall dusted the ground in a beautiful white, each breath sucked in the freshness of the world and expelled the mists of a long hard day from Osthea’s lungs. The world was quietest now, not a bird nor soul said a word, the night expected nothing from Osthea, not this night and not this time. Small pinpricks of light in the darkness surrounded the great hall and grew closer, candles flickering standing against the breeze and snow, a distant sound of sobbing. The procession would be happening like this throughout the world. A pregnant silence full of the weight of actions seemed to sit, a secret beyond all others, and one she knew she had to keep. She stared at the stars and wondered what the gods thought of us now, would they share in our tears or would they laugh at our anguish. It was selfish to think they cared, though in her life she had seen the gods care for no one as much as him. Wiping away a gentle tear, Osthea got to her feet and gazed over the assembled crowd.
“I know we are scared, the darkness took our friends, our family, our loved ones and now he is no longer here to protect us and we feel alone” Osthea took a breath that caught in her throat, now was not the time to show that. These people needed strength. “I can say, we should look to his inspiration, the mark he made upon this world. We should tell our children, our children’s children and whoever will listen, of his great deeds and we should never allow his name to fall. As long as his name is said, he is never truly gone. He is … was, a great man, an inspiration beyond any that have walked Carthium and one it was our pleasure to know.” Why was this so difficult? Osthea allowed her head to fall and the sigh of breath rose to warm her face just a little. Her gaze misted by tears and snow. She was not the talker he was but now was not the time for self doubt. Their faces were terrified, scared, illuminated by the singular candles each soul held. Children clutched at mothers, mothers and fathers faught back tears. Strong men and women crumbling at the loss of their hope. Now called for a different tact. “Look to him as an inspiration, do not mourn. Our pride should be in what he achieved, not in the fact he is no longer here. His name should give you strength. Once and for all time speak his name with pride and courage, let his name fill your heart with belief, if we could bring light to the shadows before we can do it again. Together, we stand united against the dark. Together, we will turn back the shadows. Together, this world will become a home. Once and always, in the name of the Good King Omen!”
