They got off their train at Ursa Minor Kochab Station. The line of people on Polaris, the North Star, led to a house by the sea. The smell of incense hung in the air, as did the sound of people weeping.
“I hate funerals,” Tomaso said quietly to Johann, feeling incredibly heavy-hearted.
Johann responded just as quietly. “No one likes them.”
The house appeared to be their destination, but Tomaso had a hard time bringing himself to go inside. He peered between the people standing in the open front door, where he could just barely make out an altar covered in a white cloth in the room farthest back. The room was colorfully decorated with flowers and other offerings. There was also a casket in front of the altar, where several elderly folk were crying loudly in strained voices. Tomaso felt his chest tighten seeing them cry without restraint like children, not caring at all what anyone might think of them.
Unable to take it, he turned back to Johann, who simply shot him a look suggesting that he hurry up and go. If one of his past memories was here, it was bound to be a sad one. Tomaso knew needed to brace himself.
Having decided he couldn’t just stand around like this forever, Tomaso weaved through all the people and walked through front door. He could distinctly hear several people crying. He then entered the room with the altar, Johann following behind him.
Though he hadn’t been able to see them earlier, there were about ten people sitting in the altar room, each of them hanging their heads in sorrow. The sadness permeating the entire room gave Tomaso a sinking feeling. All of a sudden his heart rate quickened, and he looked to Johann as if he were looking for help. Johann said nothing, a gentle smile across his face.
Tomaso timidly turned towards the altar. It featured a portrait of the deceased at the top.
The portrait bore the same smile as Johann.
He looked back at Johann, but Johann wasn’t there anymore.
Tomaso collapsed to the floor, unable to hold back his tears. He was now part of the grief consuming this house, this entire city, and all he could do wail. Though the tears blurred his vision, Tomaso watched as the flower bud that had sprouted on the back of his tightly clenched left hand slowly blossomed, revealing a yellow flower. At the same time, he also felt intense pain as several more St. John’s wort blossoms began blooming all over his body. The flowers of resignation were transformed into pebbles of the sorrow he felt. Through his incessant wailing, a thought crossed his mind.
What laid beyond the night? That was what Tomaso wanted to know.
Next chapter (Coming soon!)
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