-400 years ago-

  Heat blazed from the forge, spitting out sparks that disappeared into the dark, snowy sky. Metal clanged as Jonathan rained blow after blow onto the still-glowing steel. When the blade was finished, he plunged it into a trough of freezing water, steam hissing upward as the metal cooled. He cast his gaze to the glowing ring of silver shining a brilliant white, where links were neatly placed above the two halves of a necklace. Using a set of large tongs, Jonathan removed the tray the necklace sat upon and set it on a workbench lined with an assortment of tools.

  A small wooden box was set aside in the left corner, safely tucked away from the hot tray. The lid let out a quiet creak as the blacksmith carefully opened it, revealing what lay inside—a smooth, oceanic blue jewel that winked up at him as he held it in his palm. It had cost him more than two years’ worth of sales, being a genuine cut sapphire from India. At least, that was what the merchant had claimed. Nevertheless, it was all worth it, for now, he had a beautiful gem for the most beautiful woman.

  Tomorrow was their anniversary and Jonathan wanted to give Margaret something different, something precious. The past few years had been harsh, especially with this strange Winter Sickness going around. Others believed it was because of the locals, but Jonathan wasn’t convinced. It just seemed so-

  “Papa!” Suzanne’s voice pierced the air. When he turned to her, he almost fell to the ground as she hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder.

  “Hey, love.” Jonathan hugged her back. “What are you doing here at the shop so early?” When she turned her tear-stained face up to him, he saw large tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

  “Edmund caught that nasty Winter Fever,” she said, barely finishing the sentence before her voice broke completely, bursting into tears once more.

  Jonathan’s heart tightened as he saw his daughter’s despair.

  “I’m so sorry, love. Edmund was a good lad, and, if I’m being honest, I actually liked him…”

  “We were supposed to get married next week, Papa.” Suzanne’s voice was quiet and soft. “Next week…” He comforted his daughter as deep sobs rocked her body. Slowly, she quieted despite the sad slump of her shoulders. Jonathan gently moved his daughter towards one of the chairs around the smithery. Despite the loss of Edmund, Jonathan couldn’t help but smile as he saw the necklace’s parts scattered on the workbench. The actual necklace didn’t take that long to assemble, and within a few hours, he held the beautiful jewelry in his hand. Suzanne had also helped, despite her red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  Time had a way of rubbing people the wrong way – bringing the harsh realities of life with it – but it was moments like this that Jonathan loved. Like the calm between the storms, it was a break from all of those worries. Now finished, he and his daughter put away all of the tools. Suzanne refilled the trough and Jonathan hung the last of the now-cool swords. Gently, he lowered the necklace into the wooden box and closed it. Grasping his daughter’s hand with one hand and the box with the other, the two walked down the snow-covered road towards the church where Margaret took care of the young ones.

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  The massive oak doors squeaked on rusted hinges as he and Suzanne walked into the church. The main sanctuary was where they entered, but they followed the squeals and laughter of the little ones into the back room. The wooden floor made a dull, hollow sound as their boots stepped on its surface. Jonathan passed under the doorway expecting to see his raven-haired wife sitting across the room in the rocking chair. The smile that had spread across his lips faltered.

  Sister Angel sat with a Bible open in her lap. Despite the giggling and laughter of the children, she looked solemn and despaired. When she looked up at him, he was shocked to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Where… where’s Margaret?” Worry gripped his heart like a clawed hand. Instead of answering, she placed her Bible on the end table next to the chair. Beckoning for them to follow, Sister Angel disappeared behind the door that led to the courtyard. Suzanne cast a nervous glance at her father and he gave her hand a squeeze. When they followed her to the courtyard, rows and rows of snow-covered tombstones greeted them. Some of them dated back decades, but more were recent. Scanning the graves, Jonathan spotted the priestess’s black robes standing next to a slab of freshly cut field stone.

  Heart pounding, Jonathan slowly shuffled to the grave with snow crunching beneath his feet. As he got closer to the grave, he noticed that the dirt was fresh and had just started to get covered with snow. Already half-knowing the truth, he stepped closer to read the neat inscription chiseled into the marble.

  Here lies

  Margaret Ignatia Summers

  Devoted wife and mother

  May she forever receive the Lord’s embrace.

  Grief tore through Jonathan’s body, driving him to his knees. but the world around him felt distant and hollow, as though the cold had finally reached his heart.

  “That Winter Sickness took her, John,” Sister Angel bent down next to him. “I’m sorry. She was a good one.”

  “Yes… yes, she was…” Tears poured down his cheeks, leaving icy tracks in their wake. Suddenly, he looked up. “Suzanne.”

  “Yes, Papa?” Jonathan opened the wooden box, took out the necklace inside, and presented it to her. “It was to be your mother’s. It belongs to you now, for you are all that is left of her.” Suzanne’s eyes widened. “Please, take it.”

  “But-” She sputtered, but Jonathan cut her off before she could refuse.

  “Suzanne!” He grasped her chin, and looked into her glistening eyes, his own filled with a grief too deep for words. “Please. You are all that’s left.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, nodding her head instead. With shaking hands, Suzanne reached for the necklace and clasped it around her neck. Jonathan pulled her into a firm embrace before drawing back, forcing a small, fragile smile.

  “You will find your true love one day,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears, “and he will love you with such devotion that you will live on in his memories, even after you pass.”

  After speaking these strangely prophetic words, he wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood. Without a backward glance, Jonathan walked around the church, through the village gates, and into the silent, snowbound world beyond.