The sun shone brightly overhead, warming Darian's face as he stood beside the freshly turned dirt. His fingers trembled, still clutching a handful of wildflowers - Talia's favourites, azure maryams and sunny celandines, which he had picked on his way here.

Everyone from their little village had come for Talia's burial. The Grand Priest of the Church of Death, Adrian, began reciting the traditional prayers to Kreya, goddess of birth and death.

"We gather today to bid young Talia farewell. The gods in their wisdom have called her home to paradise, where she will dwell for eternity free of mortal sorrows."

"We commend Talia's pure spirit into the hands of the gods," proclaimed the priest. "Let us take comfort in the knowledge they embrace her now in their eternal love."

Darian stared numbly at the simple grave before him, barely hearing the priest's assurances. What paradise awaited his sister? How could the gods be so wise, yet so cruel as to snatch away an innocent child?

Clenching his jaw, Darian glared at the sky as though daring the gods to strike him down too. He would gladly trade places with Talia now resting beneath the cold earth.

Oblivious to Darian's blasphemous thoughts, the priest concluded, "Unto the merciful gods we release her spirit."

The priest's empty platitudes rang hollow in his ears. No divine hands embraced his little sister now. All that remained was a yawning, lifeless grave...and a raging grief no God bothered to ease.

“My boy,” the priest turned to Darian. “You can say some words if you’d like…”

Darian stepped forward and sprinkled the flowers over Talia’s grave, but his throat tightened too much to speak any parting words. How could he say goodbye to his little sister?

A choked sound beside Darian made him turn. His mother stood there, body shaking as she tried to hold back sobs. Her eyes looked bruised from endlessly weeping these last few days. Darian wrapped an arm around her waist to support her.

Mara leaned heavily against her son, dabbing at her wet cheeks with a handkerchief. "My dear little girl," she whimpered. "What will we do without her?"

Darian had no answer, just a hollow ache inside his chest. He hugged his mother close as the priest guided them gently away from the grave, opening space for other mourners to pay respects.

Old Kalyna hobbled forward first, arranging a bouquet of herbs on the make-shift gravestone. “Farewell, child,” the healer murmured. "You were taken too soon."

Others filtered past offering flowers and whispered words. Darian kept his head down, not wanting to see the pity in their eyes. He felt his mother trembling against him and squeezed her hand.

They would get through this, somehow. Talia was beyond suffering now, at peace among the stars. Darian clung to that small comfort even as his grief remained an open wound.

As the crowd began to disperse, snatches of conversation reached Darian's ears.

"That poor family, alone now..."

"However will they manage, with the father gone these long years and now the daughter too?"

Darian lifted his chin, refusing to pay attention to the gossip.

A large hand settled gently on his shoulder. "Steady now, son,” came the blacksmith Breck’s gruff voice. “This too shall pass."

Darian nodded without meeting the man’s eye. Breck meant well, but he was not Darian’s father. That distinction belonged to the faceless stranger who had abandoned them seven years ago. The man who had never met his own daughter.

Mara touched his other shoulder. "Let's go back home," she murmured, exhaustion dragging at her words.

At last, the day's tragic ritual was complete. Supporting his mother, Darian led her from the quiet graveyard back towards their now even emptier cottage.

He kept his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to glance back at the small mound of dirt now holding one of the two people he had loved most in this world. There would be time to grieve for Talia later in private.

Right now, his mother needed him to be strong.

As they walked home, Darian felt as if they had been gone for years. Yet life in their remote farming community continued on as normal.

Chickens clucked in yards, shopkeepers called out their wares, women drew water from the central well gossiping all the while.

Part of Darian wanted to grab these villagers going about their day, shout at them that his little sister was dead and buried, didn't they understand?

But the rest of him envied them. They had not watched helplessly as fever burned away the life of an innocent child. Their homes still held laughter and joy within. Not like the empty greyness waiting for Darian and Mara now.

At last, they reached home. Hesitating at the door, he glanced at his mother.

"I'll fetch us some tea," Mara said, wiping her eyes once more. She squeezed Darian's hand, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Darian looked around silently. Already the cottage felt too big without Talia's bright spirit filling it. He kept expecting her to come barrelling out of their bedroom, demanding a story or a game of dragons.

Dragons...the carved little wooden knight and dragon figures on the shelf caught Darian's gaze. Talia had pretended the dragon figure was named Scales, a fearsome beast who had captured the knight along with all the kingdom’s treasure. That had always made Darian smile, his fierce little sister choosing to be the dragon rather than the captive princess needing rescue...

A lump filled his throat. He touched the toys gently, remembering all the rainy afternoons and snowy days they had spent battling imaginary monsters. How he wished he could turn back time, just for one more chance to laugh and play with Talia again.

The clink of dishes from the kitchen shook Darian from his reverie. He straightened up, scrubbing a sleeve over his suddenly stinging eyes. Enough reminiscing: it was time to be strong for his mother.

Joining her at the table, Darian doctored his tea the way Talia used to love, with a spoonful of honey. Almost against his will, another memory surfaced - his little sister sneaking extra honey from the jar when Mara wasn't looking, then giggling with delight at this sweet secret between her and Darian.

His vision blurred again. Angrily, Darian blinked back the tears and gulped his tea. He needed to focus on practical matters right now, not dwell on what could never be.

Mara's face was drawn, eyes unfocused as the hot drink warmed her hands. She had spoken little since they left the funeral. Darian wished he could think of some words of comfort for her. But he could barely make sense of his own churning emotions, let alone ease his mother's broken heart.

At a loss, Darian reached over and gently covered her clasped hands with one of his own. Mara started slightly at the touch, then attempted a smile that made his chest ache.

"I suppose we'll have to..." Her voice broke and she looked away. "To pack up her things soon," Mara whispered. "Her clothes and dolls, so we can..."

She trailed off again, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Darian nodded, even as the thought of boxing up the pieces of Talia's short life made his stomach turn. He would do anything to avoid facing that painful task. Yet he knew his mother was right - keeping Talia's belongings around like some shrine would only deepen their grief.

"We'll do it together," he promised gently. "Whenever you're ready." Just not yet, he pleaded silently. He could not bear to erase his sister's presence so soon.

When he finally finished the tea, Darian stared down at the empty cup. "I…I can't do it," he whispered.

"Can't do what, dear?" Mara asked softly.

Darian lifted his eyes to meet hers. "The exam. Studying, all of it. Not now, after..." His voice broke.

"Oh my boy, of course,” Mara grasped his hand. “No one expects you to just carry on as if nothing happened."

Darian's shoulders hunched. "But I have to provide for us, take care of you..."

"Hush," Mara squeezed his hand tighter. "Right now, your health is what matters most. There will be other opportunities."

Darian shook his head bitterly. "We barely scraped together the 10 silver coins for the exam fee. I can't throw it all away because I'm too weak-"

"Stop," Mara said firmly. "You are the strongest young man I know. But even the strongest need time to grieve and heal." She cupped his cheek. "Talia would not want you pushing yourself too hard right now."

At his sister's name, a soft sob escaped Darian's control. Mara gathered him close, letting him weep into her shoulder as she stroked his hair.

After some time, Darian lifted his head, scrubbing the tears away. "I'm sorry," he choked out.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my boy." Mara kissed his forehead. "I know Talia's loss hurts more than we can bear. But we will face it together, one day at a time. And when you are ready, your dreams will still be waiting for you."

Darian let out a shaky breath. His mother's quiet strength and reassurance eased some of the unbearable ache in his soul. Whatever happened, they still had each other.

He hugged her wordlessly, hoping it conveyed his jumbled gratitude. Mara seemed to understand. For now, that was enough.

When she rose to clear away the mugs, Darian spoke up.

"I'll go check my snares, see if I can bring home fresh meat for supper," he said carefully, keeping his voice steady with effort. "Should be some…rabbits or birds caught by now."

Mara paused, studying his face. Darian held himself straight, hoping she would agree. He needed to get away from the suffocating cottage, breathe the open air of the woods and remember who he was again.

The strong provider and man of this family, not the helpless child watching his little sister die.

"Yes...yes, go on then," Mara said at last. "Some fresh meat would go nicely in the stew pot. I can manage preserving the rest."

Darian let out a relieved breath. Hunting felt like the only thing that still made sense right now. He was good at it, and his family needed the food. He could lose himself for a little out there.

Fetching his gear, Darian hugged his mother's thin frame. "I won't be long," he promised.

Mara held him tightly for a long moment before releasing him towards the door. Darian blinked a few times as he slipped outside into the glaring afternoon sunlight.

Passing villagers nodded respectfully as Darian headed for the treeline. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead. Sympathy was the last thing he wanted right now. The only balm for his soul lay beneath the leafy green branches surrounding their village.

Finally, Darian crossed into the shadows of the forest. Immediately the vice around his heart eased ever so slightly. Out here, he did not have to put on a brave face. It was just him and the trees, the birdsong and soft burble of the stream.

He filled his lungs with crisp air scented of pine needles and mossy earth. This was his refuge, the only place he had ever found true peace. Whatever storms raged inside him, the forest remained a sanctuary where he could simply breathe.

Following the familiar paths towards his hunting trails, Darian let his mind empty of thoughts. He focused only on the details surrounding him - dappled afternoon light filtering through the canopy, the way the ground sloped towards the gurgling stream ahead.

Out here he could believe, just for a little while, that nothing in the world was wrong at all. That his little sister would be waiting for him back home. But the grief creeping back at the edges of his mind told Darian he could not outrun it forever. Talia would not be waiting for him today, or ever again.

As he reached the secluded glen where his snares lay, unwelcome memories rushed back in. This was where he had always brought Talia berry picking in last summer, her laughter ringing out as she gorged on sweet wild raspberries until her face and hands were stained purple.

Darian's steps faltered. Bending to check the first snare almost took more effort than he could muster. But he forced himself to focus, mechanically resetting and untangling each empty trap. The mindless task soothed him somewhat, just as he had hoped.

Yet no amount of distraction could block out a truth Darian had been dodging since the moment Talia took her last ragged breath. He had failed her when she needed him most.

All those days watching helplessly as fever consumed his bright-eyed sister...Darian should have been able to protect her somehow. He was the man of the family.

What use were all his skills and effort if he could not keep his own sister safe?

The bleak thought drained what little energy Darian had left. He sank down with his back against a broad oak tree, finally letting the grief he had held back all-day crash over him. Alone in the woods, he covered his face and wept his heart out.

"It's my fault," Darian choked out. "I should have saved you, Talia..."

He thought of the little girl's small hand clenched in his as fever wracked her slight body. Her whimpers still echoed in his ears. Darian had never felt more powerless.

He missed her with a constant ache, like a limb torn away. Of all the unfair blows life had dealt their family, this one cut deepest of all.

I don’t care about the gold, the adventures, or even ‘him’. I just want my sister back…

Eventually Darian's sobs eased, leaving him hollowed out. He swiped an arm across his wet face. Talia was gone, yet he remained - and with her loss, the duty of providing for their mother now rested fully on Darian's young shoulders alone. He had to be strong for her sake, as she had always been for him.

Sniffling, Darian stood up, intending to check the remaining snares. But a sudden sound in the underbrush froze him in place.