The door of the church is only for mortals to enter and exit, and Soshyan must lower his head to enter.
When he entered, the first thing he saw was a small prayer room.
There are few furnishings here, and it is even simpler than some private shrines.
Two wall-mounted suitcases form a closet, in which a stack of books sits prominently, and the windows and sunshades are propped open by a branch broken off from a scarbark tree.
Sunlight passes through the windows, over the exposed metal, and onto the flat wooden walls.
Additional light comes from a lumen box on an inverted crate next to the lectern, and primitive grease lamps on other shelves.
Flickering light shines on old circuit boards and broken reading data pads, and other decorations of little practical value are placed in some open boxes on the floor, most of which look to be of a certain age.
The dusty icon of the Emperor hung on the wall, losing its original luster.
Soshyan took off his helmet and fastened it to his waist.
Step by step, he walked to the window at the end of the prayer room and pressed the control button to raise the blinds.
It hummed and retracted into the groove of the window frame, letting golden light pour in.
Soshyan looked out the window and found that behind the church was a cliff, from which he could overlook the vast land outside Soames Nest.
He couldn't help but drink in the stunning scenery.
Suddenly, some memories flashed through his mind, something he seemed to do every morning.
From here on, everything that was originally unfamiliar suddenly felt a little familiar.
Soshyan turned around and through the half-open cabinet door, he caught a glimpse of a small wooden toy horse standing on top of the storage box.
He seemed to be able to hear the harmonica playing in the distance and smell the freshly squeezed juice.
On the bookshelf in the corner of the room, medals for outstanding students of Somers Noble Academy sit in a beautiful small box, next to an ancient prayer box.
Ten steps away from the window, a regicide chessboard was placed on a small table. Judging from the distribution of the chess pieces, the game would end in two or three moves.
Time seems to have frozen.
Home?
An inexplicable emotion surged up in Soshiyang's heart, as if a big stone was blocked in his chest and he couldn't even breathe smoothly.
At this time, he noticed a door, a door ajar on the side of the prayer room.
He stepped forward, but hesitated the moment he opened the door.
Then, Soshyan took off his glove, gently touched the rough hardwood door with his palm, and then pushed it open bit by bit.
This was a subconscious move.
Just like many years ago, when he returned home too late, he became cautious because he was afraid of his mother's accusation.
Then he saw it.
A shriveled body was lying on the bed, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling weakly with regular breathing.
Her skin was gray, wrinkled, dull and lackluster, her hair had been shaved off, and a row of walnut-shaped machines creaked beside the bed, full of golden buttons and displays.
Curly copper wires extended from the sockets on the sides of the machines and were attached to her head, while the crackling spheres hummed softly at the top of the machines.
The equipment looked new and seemed to have been moved in recently.
But it doesn't make any sense anymore.
Soshyan stood at the door. He could not connect this dying person, who shrank like a baby, with the person in his mind.
Suddenly, his peripheral vision glanced at a photo frame on the bedside table.
He walked over slowly, picked up the photo frame, and brushed off the thick layer of dust.
A man and a woman, and a child who looks pretentious.
How ridiculous.
Soshyan knelt down on one knee and gently held up the withered hand on the edge of the bed. The comparison between the two was like an adult and a baby.
He couldn't feel any weight, as if what he held was just a feather. Apart from the almost disappearing temperature, he could hardly feel any existence.
What can he do at this time?
He prayed, prayed that the Emperor could perform a miracle, even if it was just for a moment, just a moment...
At this moment, he suddenly realized that this person, his mother, might have done this thing thousands of times after he left.
Soshyan lowered his head deeply, hoping for a miracle.
However, there are no miracles.
Nothing.
Soshiyang stayed quietly in the house for three days. During these three days, he did not move a step or say a word.
At dawn on the fourth day, all the machines screamed in unison.
There are no miracles, only redemption.
After the last rise and fall of this poor woman's chest, she remained still forever, while her hand rested on her son's palm.
Soshyan carefully put his withered hands back into the blanket, then wrapped his shrunken mother in the blanket, held her in his arms, and walked towards the church door.
She looked so peaceful, like a baby, that Soshyan didn't know if he had ever lay in her arms in such a posture.
When he walked out of the door, he saw many people gathered outside, many of whom he didn't know.
"Cousin, aunt, she——"
After Nelio saw what was in Soshyan's arms, he immediately realized what had happened, and tears fell down uncontrollably.
The other people, those whom Soshyan did not recognize and who wore masks of false expressions, also let out choked and regretful sighs.
Soshyan did not pay even the slightest attention to them. Instead, he held his mother in his arms, walked out of the mansion, and went straight to the family cemetery.
The burial ceremony was not complicated. Soshyan's mother had already left her own place next to her husband's grave.
After a brief cleaning of the body, the Archbishop of Soames presided over the funeral - in the most pious standards.
The funeral lasted for six hours. In addition to her personal belongings, Soshyan also placed the first medal she received after becoming a Space Marine into the sarcophagus.
But no one knew that after the funeral, Soshyan secretly held a small funeral next to his parents' tombs.
And the one who is buried is himself.
He buried all his mortal possessions in it and erected a tombstone.
There is no epitaph on the tombstone, nor the name of the tomb owner, only a line of Gothic.
[A fool trapped in armor]
After all this was over, Soshyan, who was physically and mentally exhausted, silently returned to the Starfire, declined all visits and banquets, and shut himself into a private cabin that belonged only to him.
He felt more tired than ever before, and he wanted to take a nap and sleep without caring about anything...
