The earth and ice grew calm once more and the tide of dragons receded, leaving the Citadel battered but still standing in their wake. There were reunions as those lost in the chaos found each other, and calls for assistance as survivors were dug out of damaged buildings, and relief as the living took stock of their friends and loved ones.
And grief, as the tally of the dead rose throughout the day and into the night.
Tal had been there on the wall when the Banshee handmaidens had come over it and sliced Halo's Shields to ribbons. It was the nightmare made real; his father's death, only ever imagined, given horrible, vivid immediacy. In the middle of the fight there had been no time to process it, but after...
When the Citadel was still and free of dragons he'd gone back up the Wall to help collect the bodies. Had it really only been a year since he'd brought Morgan's back from Whitebrim?
He worked quietly. Methodically. Transporting the dead to the place they had designated for the mass pyre. A hero's sendoff for all those who had perished in a War most of them would never fully understand. Wood was needed, and oil, and the courier coordinated with those who supplied them. The structure rose as the bodies were cleaned and wrapped and finally placed within it.
And some days later, as the sun slipped below the edge of a splintered glass Sea, Halovians gathered together to say their final farewells to the fallen of a War whose repercussions would be felt for days and years and generations yet to come.
This is a funeral mini event for post-War Halo.
And grief, as the tally of the dead rose throughout the day and into the night.
Tal had been there on the wall when the Banshee handmaidens had come over it and sliced Halo's Shields to ribbons. It was the nightmare made real; his father's death, only ever imagined, given horrible, vivid immediacy. In the middle of the fight there had been no time to process it, but after...
When the Citadel was still and free of dragons he'd gone back up the Wall to help collect the bodies. Had it really only been a year since he'd brought Morgan's back from Whitebrim?
He worked quietly. Methodically. Transporting the dead to the place they had designated for the mass pyre. A hero's sendoff for all those who had perished in a War most of them would never fully understand. Wood was needed, and oil, and the courier coordinated with those who supplied them. The structure rose as the bodies were cleaned and wrapped and finally placed within it.
And some days later, as the sun slipped below the edge of a splintered glass Sea, Halovians gathered together to say their final farewells to the fallen of a War whose repercussions would be felt for days and years and generations yet to come.
This is a funeral mini event for post-War Halo.
