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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1193760
Part one of the Holiday Series: feature a bonfire
The dead of winter. Keil had always thought that phrase referred to the coldest, darkest part of the season. But not now, the Dead of Winter meant something far different.

On this cold, cold afternoon a piercing wind was picking up and Kiel's body took an involuntary step toward a building bonfire, and then, even quicker, stepped back as his mind realized what he was nearing.

During winter, frozen ground cannot easily be dug up for burial of the deceased. In normal times, the village would store their sanctified dead somewhere safe until the spring thaw and hold a ceremony of death and rebirth. But these were not normal times in Partha, civil war had blighted the kingdom since spring.

The company of armed, mounted men approached the village this morning after smoke was seen against the clear blue sky. The company had been pursuing a group of rebels for several days and was drawing nearer, but not quickly. Burned and looted villages were the result of their lack of success. After a quick march to cover the miles, the men spread out to surround the village, but it was soon apparent they were too late.

Many of the buildings had been burnt to the ground and bodies were everywhere, centered around an empty market square. As scouts were sent to look for survivors and the rebel trail, the rest of the men were sent gather up the bodies.

As the Duke's mage, Kiel was assigned to the company to assist them in any way, but so far he felt completely useless, no spells could find the elusive band. The bonfire to warm the men had been transformed into a funeral pyre, and Kiel was forced away from its warmth to try and find a solution.
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