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| - The congregation at the Cathedral of Light was solemn that evening as the High Emissary read from a list of names, each one slain in a line of duty from the bloodied battle of Dun Garok. The men and women in red robes and polished red chainmail remained kneeled, each one with a forlorn look of contemplation. "All of these brave brethren lost their lives today... but their losses will not be in vain, as while they may not have died fighting the scourge, they did die defending the lands we once called home," spoke the High Emissary, his voice lacking the usualy finesse. "Light be praised."
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| abstract
| - The congregation at the Cathedral of Light was solemn that evening as the High Emissary read from a list of names, each one slain in a line of duty from the bloodied battle of Dun Garok. The men and women in red robes and polished red chainmail remained kneeled, each one with a forlorn look of contemplation. "All of these brave brethren lost their lives today... but their losses will not be in vain, as while they may not have died fighting the scourge, they did die defending the lands we once called home," spoke the High Emissary, his voice lacking the usualy finesse. "Light be praised." "Light be praised," mumbled the congregation. The passion they usually showed was not as strong tonight, the loss of so many lives, while something they are used to, was still a shock to them today. "We will now hear a reading, held this evening by Sister Suzanne." Suzanne pulled herself up from her kneel. With a curteous bow, she stepped up onto the altar stairway. Normally, she'd have a fable or a tale to tell, but she did not have one for now, when she reached into a small pocket of her robe, and remembered an old poem she held dear to herself. Turning to the congregation, Suzanne produced the paper with the poem on, the paper faded and creased. "Normally, I'd have a fable or something prepared, but I don't, but tonight, I will read an old poem from my childhood, called 'Our Children.'" Suzanne cleared her throat, and looked down at the faded paper. The ink was barely visible, but Suzanne knew the words to heart anyway. Suzanne held back some tears as she continued with the poem. Suzanne looked down at the paper again, the next verse always got to her, and a series of tears streamed down her cheek. Brushing as many tears she could from her face, Suzanne looked down at the paper again. Fresh teardrops now adorned the paper, causing the faded ink to come to life again, blotching the paper. Finishing the final verse, Suzanne folded the paper and returned it to her pocket, raising her tearful face to that of the congregation, who had remained silent during the reading. "Light be praised, Brethren... may it keep those who has fallen today..." "Light be praised..." replied the congregation, as Suzanne stepped back down the altar, her face filled with tears, shed for those who she will never see again. Those she's never smile and speak to, those she'd never share a laugh and joke with, those she'd never pray or fight alongside... "Light keep them all," she whispered to herself.
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