The Necklace

Chapter 3

The day's sun dropped beneath the horizon, allowing cold winds to loom inside, whistling subtly like they had come themselves to pay their last respect to Lisa at the Memorial Service. The great lights in the skies darkened, they knew what time it was.

The kingdom was silent. Mourners, friends, and family dressed in subdued colors, ready to process into the place made somber because of a circumstance.

Men and women alike, their tears, an unforgiving storm, waters that overflow beyond its bounds. Sniffs, sniffles, whimpers, and wheezing dirged, as the people allowed their sorrow to linger in the atmosphere; did they allow it? No. It burst out like a tiger pouncing on its prey after long days of starvation, its aggression, and instinct to survive, more deadlier than ever.

The people of Everia loved their king and queen, hence, they understood what Lisa meant to them. Their grief was theirs to share with. A kingdom without an heir in the East was considered cursed, but a kingdom whose heirs were snatched away by the relentless claws of death was considered one being haunted and hunted down by the demons of the deep. But Lisa...she, she managed to pull this kingdom out of dire stigmatization, and now where was she? She was somewhere...beyond the reach of the mortals...eternity.

It was time to celebrate her life...

The clouds thickened above, having within themselves the Morning Glory. It felt as if a greater power was down to witness the Memorial Service of the late Lisa Greenleaf, Everia's greatest Healer.

The Great Hall had, too, adorned its shady colors in reverence to Lisa. The knights, majestically clothed in their silky black armors, before they marched to the top of the castle, where the Great Hall stood mighty in holding gatherings, stopped upon the square.

They paraded on the vast square, which stood directly before the king's formidable balcony. The senior knight marched out in front of his men, his head lifted to the balcony unwaveringly. He slowly took a bend, laying down his shield, and his black sword.

The people stood there, their eyes searched, and their grief dwindling to grasp the meaning of the knight's actions. Bowed heads raised, wet eyes dried off, sniffles and whimpering ceased slowly as they captured the knight's display.

The floor cried out in clanking and clashes as the black sword and the shield fell upon it, a sirene dirge on its own. As if it wasn't enough, the nobleman took off his black metal helmet and gently rested it on the heart of his enormous shield, with his eyes fixed on the balcony to the giant painting of Lisa on a black fabric; he slightly flickered to make sure of his placements. Before all was done, he threw himself down, face flat, to put her in the highest reverence.

This was the sacred act of the knights to a cherished soul.

This solemn act of reverence, generosity, and benevolence struck a chord in the crowd.

It started with an old woman who understood the meaning of this sacred act and how scarce it was to be witnessed, but shared grief is more contagious than it's made out to be. This time, it wasn't her departure they were grieving; it was the respect that was given to her.

Taking a closer look at the senior knight who lay face down, a lonely tear walked down the isle of his left eye, chilling, slowly, and deranged in itself; that tear felt what they felt, as if.

After a minute, he regained his feet, retrieving his mascot from the ground, indicating that although one had fallen, it was for a moment; the remaining would rise stronger than ever and keep the fight going. The other knights lashed their shields with their swords, the clanks were a hymn of praise, echoing across the entire plain. The senior knight lifted his hand and they silenced.