“Bastion… Bastion… My love, wake…”

Small voice, soft, barely above a whisper; frail, shaking, pained.

Usual, expected, the one I had been waking to for years now, but at the same time, not usual – different somehow.

Early morning sun shone in my eyes. I didn’t want to wake, for I knew waking would surely draw me into the pain of another day. I had been a soldier, a warrior of great acclaim and skill, but I had never once in my years of battle been through a pain like this. Not this great, not this horrid. Never.

The disease had brought it, that foul demon we had not a name for, this blistering heat and throbbing body, the entirety of every bone, joint, and muscle feeling as if it were slowly being pulled past its limits and burned, constantly. Constant, waking pain.

What little sleep was attainable was the only refuge. It was either that or death, but I could not choose death. I had faced far worse and had never chosen it, not even thought about it. Why do so now?

Because, my friend, I could not stand the waking, and the pain that came with it. Yes, the agony of my body was great, but not as great as that tormenting my very soul. Every morning I would wake, the pain would come, and I would be forced to turn to the face I loved the most, and see it sunken and pale, just as sick if not sicker than I, weaker than I, hoping for a release or any comfort I could give, something that by no means I would ever ask of her.

Knowing that there was no solace I could give her only made it worse. Oh my poor Catharine. How I loved you so. I loved you so much that I wished I was dead. I could not bear to see you suffer any more, my dear, nor could I give you the rest you so sorely deserved by killing you. My love.

Even worse than Catherine’s pain was that of Jessica. My little darling, if only I could have saved you, if only you had been able to hold a few more hours. Oh my lovely, lovely girls.

“Bastion, dear… please…” I couldn’t stand hearing her plead with my body anymore. I lay awake, but my eyes were closed. She was crying, her tears pouring from her the last of her body’s moisture. I could feel it on the shoulder of my thin linen day shirt. I had fallen asleep in it, and so I wore it then.