Chapter Text
When he woke. When he believed he had suffered enough. It was not within the warmth of a parlor gone cold, no more does he hear voices familiar to him. The whole area is cold, so very cold, and the voices are hard to understand. Severin does not understand anything.
But the pain, familiar pain from his throat down to his chest emerges again and he sleeps. Hoping that he will not wake up again.
------
Months, years, medicine is amazing. But he can hardly speak, or rather has no reason to speak. The infection remains there, suppress but still there. Even with ships and space beyond, there is still no curing this.
He forces the mayor to burn him, should he die.
People here are kind, there are no infected but him, and he knows there is little chance of actual infection. The stars shine with other worlds, many worlds , perhaps one day he will see the memorial for those who acted heroicly before the crisis. See his son again.
The scythe feels familiar in his hands, the wheat here, also familiar. It is peaceful, but he knows, that war will be upon them.
---------
He might see his son now.
Ships the size of mobile cities pass through the skies, robot droids are dropped and shoot without mercy to those who fight. Severin leads the fight because no one else knows how to fight, despite the big lump forming in his throat, medicine is harder to get now. Soon it will be become even more difficult to breath-
He stabs his sword through the eyes of a droid, he is schultz. He must keep moving.