I stood in front of a temple, surrounded by a thin, somber crowd of townspeople. The air was heavy with the scent of burning incense and the soft glow of flames. Hundreds of townsfolk were gathered at a local shrine, a peaceful abode nestled among the trees and overlooking the river's rushing waters downstream from Halton.

We were at a site of worship close to the riverbank with the mourners, mingling with a sea of people mired in an ocean of sorrow and tears. The funeral site reminded me of a Japanese Shinto shrine, which was primarily made of stone and wood. It was nestled in a small forest about an hour from the town by foot. Scattered groups of people stood up here, looking over the wooden railing to avoid disturbing the rites below.

It was early evening, and the sun had just fallen beyond the horizon through cloudy skies. A single large pyre burned brightly at the center of a courtyard, sending plumes of smoke into the air. People stood in solemn silence as they watched it roar to the skies. Like everyone else, I was dressed in white — a symbol of fresh starts and respect in the culture. The moon rose high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the solemn scene. As we waited for the ceremony to begin, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and loss.

A platoon of soldiers watched over us while friends and family members of the fallen adventurers left flowers by the riverbank and wrote final messages on paper lanterns. Dozens of 'soul lanterns' were set on red steel cages on poles across the grounds, providing an ocean of flickering beacons for the souls of the departed. The lanterns would burn for those who had died so that their souls might ascend to the heavens. That was the belief here, at least. I recognized multiple people from the guild down below. Tarrant, a couple of elderly men and women, and that group of dwarves went from group to group giving their condolences, while Dinah was with a group of men and women with dog, cat, and fox ears across from us on the other side of the temple.

The evening cold was palpable, and the air felt heavy with emotion and despair. The grief hung thick in the air, and the sight was compelling to bear witness to. Hundreds, if not thousands, of magic orange and purple candles blazed away into the night, with gentle flickers rippling through them like waves across a lake's surface. I bit my lip and frowned as I saw a familiar pair of middle-aged, brown-haired parents comforting each other over one particular soul lantern.

At least I'd learned the brown-haired teen's name at the end. I'd be sure to carry the plucky teen's memory with me until the end of my days.

"Are you alright, sis?" Lori whispered gently into my ear after standing next to me quietly for several minutes. "You seem incredibly overwhelmed."

I glanced up at her quickly from behind my black hood. "Yes," I answered softly back to her. "I'm okay. I just need to breathe. This is... a lot to take in."

Lori looked down at me, concern evident in her eyes as she smiled weakly. My sister put her arm around my shoulder comfortingly before pulling me in against herself and holding me tight.

"I know it's been hard on you too, Alice," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly with every word. "It hasn't even really sunk in for me yet. So many of the people I'd dined with and grew up around died."

"What are we supposed to do now?" I asked quietly, looking towards the sea of candles. "How does this work?"

This certainly wasn't like any funeral rite I'd seen on earth. I felt like a fish out of water again.

"A person's first funeral is the hardest, for certain," Lori flashed me a sullen, thoughtful look.

Then, she gave me a small, gentle pat on the head before answering my question.

"The ceremony ends once the lanterns are cast out, and we'll wait until that happens. Once that happens, the families who wish for the traditional rite will carry the bodies over to one side of the grounds by the riverbank to the boats. Then the bodies will be burned and sent into the river to be carried off by the currents, and supposedly, their souls will be shepherded by servants of the gods. It's a rite we do for warriors and heroes in wartime, you know?"

I blinked at Lori before shrugging in acknowledgment and then turned my gaze back at the sea of flickering orange and purple flames. She gently held me close in a hug before she sighed and looked down at the crowd.

I just stared as, one by one, the paper lanterns people had lit were released into the air. They drifted upwards with slow flutters of flame, drifting gracefully into the darkening sky like fireflies. Their orange glows flickered in the shadows of the trees surrounding us, floating into the darkness above to illuminate the sky with a sea of sparkling yellow and orange lights. I listened to the soft crackle of burning paper and watched the candle smoke drift into the cool autumn air.

The wind blew gently around us, carrying the scent of damp soil and the river into my nose, mixed with incense. Dimly, I heard a slow choir begin as a melancholic requiem filled the air. As the last light faded from the sky, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The smell of grass and aloeswood incense tickled my nostrils as I opened them again, and I felt a slight chill in the air as I inhaled. The temperature had dropped significantly, and I shivered slightly as I felt goosebumps form on my skin. I didn't know what winters in this world would be like, but it was right around the time, that's for sure.

When I looked up again, the clouds parted, revealing a large white moon. The moon shone its pale light directly down onto the pyre, and I could see the glimmering reflections on the river's smooth surface beneath the moonlit water. I could hear the sounds of gentle lapping echoing from the river shore, accompanied by tranquil splashing noises as the current moved past us. The faint cries of birds sounded in the distance as they passed overhead, flying elsewhere for the winter months ahead.

The scene was depressing and haunting but peaceful despite all that had happened to set the stage. It seemed almost impossible that so much death could have occurred only days before. But it was true. And now everyone here was left with nothing but memories of the fallen.

I let out a shuddering sigh and rubbed my arms lightly as I tried to shake off my melancholic mood. When I opened my eyes, Lori stood next to me, still wearing the same sullen look on her face as before. But in the shadows, her mouth twitched upward ever so slightly as she let out a dark chuckle.

I turned to her in surprise. This type of laugh seemed so uncharacteristic of her, but then again, how well did I really know her?

"Attending these never gets easier, you know?" Lori whispered, "Somehow, I've always been lucky enough to be on this side of the veil after the dust settles. A little too lucky."

Lori took another long sigh. Her eyes were half-lidded with weariness, but a subtle hint of anger was hidden behind that tired expression. I stared at her curiously for several seconds. She blinked quickly and gave me a slight smirk before shaking her head and flashing an awkward grin.

"I'll be fine," she answered quietly, but her eyes seemed to say she was anything but fine.

I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head right now, given the crazy couple of days we had. So, I did the only thing I felt I could. I quietly leaned in closer and hugged my sister. At first, she tensed up like I had hurt her, but after a moment, she relaxed.

I sighed softly and hugged Lori again for a few more minutes before releasing her. Afterward, we shared a warm, silent moment of companionable silence, just listening to the flames crackle and the river murmuring peacefully as it gently passed beneath the shrine.

As time passed, there came the point where I could hear faint splashes echoing out of the distance on the riverbank. And as those splashes grew louder, the light in the air grew brighter too. Several funeral boats arrived on the bank's shore when the moon and its reflection were nearly overhead. At least a dozen or more lit paper lanterns were placed near their craft's prow and stern, glowing softly in the darkening evening.

A chilly wind blew across us, making me shiver despite my thick white robe. As I watched from behind my hood, I saw many people silently gather around each boat, watching with stoic expressions as they waited for one last farewell ceremony for their fallen comrades. Some people stood close together, others alone, and others simply sat down in quiet reverence while holding back tears. It seemed everyone here had lost someone important to them.

After another short wait, another round of soft splashing sounds echoed into the night sky. Several large fires flared to life on the bank opposite the pyre, burning brightly enough to illuminate the area for some distance around the funeral site. In moments, a procession of three separate groups began leaving delicately-wrapped bodies on large wooden barges.

Each barge was loaded with bodies wrapped tightly in shrouds made of sheets and arranged in rows. I squinted hard against the bright glow emanating off the flames as I stared at these bodies carried carefully over.

As I watched, giant hulking men, each carrying large bundles of firewood, stepped forward from the crowd. They stacked wood onto the funeral barges while prayers, mixed with a melancholic choir, floated through the air like ripples across the water. The men then covered the wood pile in more layers of sheet, creating a tent-like structure above it. Then, after an excruciating amount of time passed where nothing happened, the third group came forwards and used a series of long poles to push their newly built funeral boat out toward the center of the riverbank.

I spotted Friar Dodgson and a group of robed citizens standing next to the boats by that point, chanting prayers with his fellow holy men from Halton. He walked with a limp as he took his place among them, leaning heavily on a walking staff I had given him yesterday.

My stomach lurched a bit when I saw a web of bright light shooting upward in a trail behind the holy men, rising into the sky and forming a glowing dome around the barges below. A moment later, two smaller trails shot into the air beside the larger one, arcing up into the darkening sky until they disappeared into the darkness overhead. Several people in the procession raised their staves aglow with mana, and fire burst from within the shrouded bodies lying inside each funeral barge. After several moments, those fires died down again. As soon as they did, an inferno burst from the barges, burning brighter than before, crackling and snapping hungrily high in the night sky. The prayer magic faded as quickly as it began.

I stood there silently for a while longer, just staring at the flickering flames illuminating the sky overhead while I listened quietly to the soft murmurs of the funeral pyre. I could feel Lori's gaze but couldn't bring myself to look at her. Instead, my eyes focused on the funeral boats to which we had come here to pay our respects. The wind blew softly on the river bank; the ripples hitting the shore echoed across the water. The scene was beautiful in its own way, yet so morbid too…

When a final gust of wind hit us, my vision shifted slightly, and I felt a strange chill run through my body, making me shiver and shake as if a ghost had suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of my soul.

I swallowed hard as the oppressive feeling grew more intense. And then I saw it happen: the sky darkened again like clouds passing in front of the moon. But this time, the sky turned black, leaving no trace of moonlight or the pale reflection from the river underneath anymore. It was pitch-black everywhere except directly above, where three tiny balls of light began shining down from the dark sky overhead. Each ball glowed brightly and hovered perfectly still for several seconds before exploding into a flurry of light and sound. They circled around one another a few times before settling over the barge.

Then, they burst apart and swirled around each other for several moments before combining over the barges into the shape of a monarch butterfly. The crowd below was relatively quiet and calm until this point, but they broke into an uproar at the sight of the ghostly symbol. It stayed there for a few seconds before bursting into a pale blue flame that danced about like tongues of fire on the wind. It retained its shape and fluttered into the sky. For several moments, all was quiet as the people watched the light rise and move farther away over the crowd.

One by one, ghostly apparitions that looked like will-o-wisps rose from the pyre to join it, fluttering across the crowd, making every head in sight turn as they began following them up and into the night sky.

Suddenly, I heard a booming voice that reverberated inside my skull.

'Progeny of dreams

The die is cast, trials begun

Shadows loom over lands near and far

A fantasm has come and passed

Weep, mourn the ones thou hath lost

For this is but another's end

Beware the path once tread

Of forebears now and then

She who dreams and hopes for altered fate

The winds of change susurrate

Treadeth ever further from the woven thread.'

Just as quickly as it appeared, the will-o-wisps disappeared and abruptly faded out of the air one after another. Ethereal, golden lights floated through the air in their wake, making for an impressive sight against the lanterns in the air.

Immediately after that, I felt like somebody had hit me with a taser, and I lost all control of my body for a minute. I trembled like a frightened kitten on the beach with absolutely no knowledge of what that booming voice's words meant. However, I felt it like a lance to my soul itself.

The oppressive feeling in the air quickly dissipated, and the world began to return to normal.

"Lori... Lori, this isn't normal, is it?" I asked breathlessly. Lori turned to me, her eyes glassy and glazed. She blinked and held her head with a groan while taking rapid, short breaths. Without thinking, I reached for her hand.

I felt goosebumps prickle along my flesh beneath her icy grasp. There was something about it that made me want to pull away. But I took several deep breaths, then leaned in and hugged her, squeezing her hand.

Her heart hammered away against my ribcage with fright, and she released a deep shuddering sigh like she had been holding her breath for quite some time.

It felt like she was a couple of inches away from a complete nervous breakdown.

"What was that?" I asked quietly as a sense of horror slowly crept up on me like thick ice along my spine. Something was terribly wrong here.

A deep, baritone voice answered behind us, "That… was a Monarch — a herald of the gods. A sign of interesting times to come, for better or worse. Each and every devotee felt it in our very souls."

I raised my head and looked around to see Friar Dodgson hobbling close behind us.

He had on his usual robes and an amulet with a tree symbol embroidered on it, yet there seemed to be a different, pained look about him than before. The wind blew past us, swirling Lori's hair across her face as she stood beside me, still breathing heavily.

The clergyman stopped, leaning heavily against the railing at the top of the stairway, panting for breath after taking only two or three more steps up to join us. It reminded me of when I watched people climb mountains to see a breathtaking view and then turn back down, feeling exhausted because they thought that was too much effort.

His injury from the battle would bother him for the rest of his life, and it may very well lead to his retirement from adventuring.

"A monarch? Could you explain?" Lori asked inquisitively.

The clergyman cleared his throat before reciting a verse: "So sayeth the Book of Prophecies. In times of calamity to be, the His Heralds shall appear once more before all who honor life. His countenance is full of anguish, pain, and anger for life needlessly lost, so the wicked must fear him as they are cast into shadow like ash..."

Dodgson trailed off again in her muttering nervously and continued, speaking as if from memory but with more emotion added to the voice:

"The Wanderer's eyes shine with burning justice behind his cowl. And in the wake of his guiding lantern's balefire, all shall be forewarned. Be it at night or dawn, by the moon or sun, so too should justice ring. Calamity rings on this wind, and its cacophony must not be shied from. In the twilight before the darkest nights and the coldest winters — His servant shall flutter before those who hold faith, and weep tears for heroes lost and to be lost. For the Wanderer's herald signals divine providence, delivered with truest intent."

His gaze seemed distant for a moment before he blinked several times and shook his head lightly, looking back at us as he began to speak again.

"The tales of our history have always told us to pay attention to His portents when they appear. It has been centuries, if not more since his presence has last been recorded, of course. It shall be my honor and duty to document this, and to alert — no, to warn the Pontifice of the appearance of a Monarch."

Dodgson sighed heavily and took a few steps closer to stand beside Lori before placing a comforting talon on her shoulder blade.

He looked out over the crowd for a moment longer before turning back towards me with a worried expression. I saw tears forming along his cheeks and around the edges of Lori's eyes, even though she was trying to fight it off so I wouldn't see it. I wasn't sure what was going through their heads, but I didn't know what else to say, so I just stood there quietly.

It was implicit in their reactions. This was a moment noteworthy in their history, and it sounded like the last thing the people ever wanted to see was an actual appearance by the giant blue butterfly at a funeral.

I turned to look at the courtyard fire, where its embers glowed orange-red. The billowing flames continued to cast light across the faces of all those standing in front of the pyre. The sea of soul lanterns swayed gently in a breeze coming from behind us as people spoke quietly amongst themselves, unsure of what all of this meant.

"And the voice? Was that the herald too?" I asked with interest, but Dodgson only looked at me curiously.

"A voice?" he repeated questioningly with confusion in his tone. He thought for a few seconds before speaking, "Sorry, I don't quite know what you mean. Could you be more specific?" His confused gaze made him seem like he wasn't lying to me.

"I, erm, thought I heard a loud voice yelling directly in my head when the sky went dark."

I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I didn’t hear a voice," Dodgson said with a thoughtful, weary frown, before shaking his head slightly. "The gods and their servants may send omens and visions to highly devout clergymen. However, it takes considerable meditation, hypnosis, and other training to interpret their words and presence, so it only happens during times of extended prayer. Are you sure the voice wasn’t from someone panicking in the crowd, or maybe you suffered a hallucination from being affected by the groups hysteria? It has been a difficult time, for all of us."

I decided to drop my train of thought there, "I suppose you're right. The stress has been really getting to me."

Friar Dodgson gave us a curt nod, before turning back to limp down the stairs.

I looked back across the river of fire one more time; all the friends and family of the people who had been killed were beginning to leave their final farewells.

But, as I peered at the tree line on the other side of the riverbank, a tall figure appeared in the distance like an ephemeral shadow cast by the moon. Then a huge, blue butterfly appeared on its shoulder as will-o-wisps popped into existence around it.

Not a single person seemed to notice the figure at all — they simply continued speaking or finishing their goodbyes at the lanterns. It was carrying a yellow lantern which grew brightly next to it, but nobody seemed to realize or react to its presence. A chill ran down my spine when I realized the light from the lantern it carried had wasn't reflecting off the water.

With one look at my direction, the cloaked figure turned and disappeared in a shower of golden light, and the will-o-wisps faded into oblivion.

I turned to look at Lori — her face was ghostly pale with a shocked expression like she couldn't believe what she had seen.

"H-hey Alice? Let's get out here," Lori whispered softly with trembling lips.

"Yes… L-let's do just that," I answered, shaking my head slowly with my brows furrowed deeply. I was beginning to feel exhaustion settle in again, and I'd never felt more confused and uncertain about anything in my life.