His olive trees, blackened by the ash that was scattered in the wind, still stood outside his home but the magnificent hut that had been the greatest in the village was now a ruined skeleton. Its roof had burnt through, collapsed inward as one side of the building had crumbled and everything he had worked towards was now taken from him. It made him feel sick inside, made him let out a moan of despair, and then he bolted forward in through the door.
Within, his belongings had become fuel for the flames, stained black and charred or completely destroyed. Desperation at finding Alkaterina flooded through his mind, taking over him, and he did not even noticed when his hands became stained from gripping the doorway. His eyes locked on to the body on the floor and a wail escaped him, though he did not even notice. Alkaterina was unrecognizable, so hot had been the flames, and she was more ash covered skeleton than a human. What flesh there was had been roasted like some pig on the spit, and he gagged as he collapsed to the floor. They had killed her and left her to burn. The world was lost to him as his mind collapsed inward, spinning out of control.
How long he sobbed for he did not know, time seemed to be non existent and the sun’s passage through the sky was not even noticed. Leaning against the doorway, staring at the body, his became fixated with the crisp remains that had once been his wife. His body rocked, his mind unable to come out of the vortex that he had spiraled into, but there was always a time when sanity claws to come out once again. Wiping his brow and smearing a stain across his face, he shakily rose to his feet and held his weight up against the doorway. He was tired, so tired, his body just wanting to surrender and surrender it did. Weakened legs collapsed slowly as he stepped outside and this time he did not fight it. Leaning back against the wall his eyes slowly closed and exhaustion consumed him.
When he awoke it was dark and the silence still coated the village. The smells of the burnt corpses made him bring a hand to his nose, the first time he registered it, but he slowly adjusted and shrugged the stench off. Around the back of his house he found a spade and began scraping the soil away to create a shallow trench. The soft ground broke and each spade full made the heap at his side deeper, creating the burial site for his wife. He would have her sleep peacefully before the night was done, have her final resting place.
And whilst she celebrated her life in the underworld, Metrius would bring bloody death to the Kephalos and his Roman allies.
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