The faint tinkle of the gently flowing river behind the cottage whispered by as Gilean once more plunged his shovel into the soft earth. He stood waist deep in a hole at least three feet wide and just over seven feet long. His cousin had been very tall, as were all of his kind.
Gilean wiped the beaded sweat from his brow and tossed another shovelful over the side. Gilean could have asked Kaliadra, or even Sanria, to create the grave for him with magic, but in some small way this was part of his pennance. After all, Velentham, the monster that had caused so much pain and turmoil, was his cousin.
In his mind, Gielan could try to rationalize Velentham's actions. Celestials by their nature were prone to arrogance, pridefullness, and even fanatic wrathfulness. His cousin had gotten a healthy dose of all of those along with an extra touch of imbalance. Telfenham, Gilean's uncle and Velentham's father, had tried to shelter Velentham and accomidate him. However once those traits, combined this his instability, were removed from Elysium and subjected to the strains of a Celestial traveling through the nine hells then being trapped on the material plane, it was too much. Velentham had become something just as bad as the demons he loved to slay.
But as much as Gilean tried to rationalize his cousin's actions he couldn't stop himself from hating the man. Not after what he had done to Sanria... done to their unborn child. Gilean stopped to wipe at his face again, silent tears mixing with the sweat. If he were a lesser man he would have been happy to leave his cousin's corpse out in the forest to be picked over by animals and the remainder to rot into dust (and to be honest, a part of him wanted just that). What he did now was for Telfenham, but also for himself, as small punishment for what his blood had wrought upon those he loved.
Those he loved... Sanria. She was back home, safe, and for that Gilean was much relieved. But Colin was also back. The real Colin. The Colin who loved Sanria. The Colin who could never, ever seem to let Sanria go. Gilean didn't know the extent of Sanria's feelings on the matter. He hadn't even had a chance to really speak to her. He had only been able to heal her body and see her wake from what would have otherwise been certain death before being edged aside by Colin so eager to see her. Then he had needed to attend to Kaliadra, so wiped out from the effort of suppressing Velentham and the strain of the life bond with Sanria. And now, here he was, dealing with the lifeless body of his cousin.
He didn't know what was going to happen. But to top everything off, Sanria was now carrying Velentham's child. Gilean speared the dirt with extra effort at the remembrance of this fact. Even with his cousin dead, his torment would remain in the form of a fully remembered Colin and his seed in Sanria's womb. All Gilean could do was continue to dig this grave and cling to the fact that Sanria was home. He hadn't lost her forever... at least he hoped he hadn't.
