Johanna trudged along the road, scowling and kicking up dirt as she went. She walked with her head down, preoccupied with her own gloomy thoughts. Looking up, she was surprised to find that she had arrived at the Chapel. The tall stone building rose above the surrounding countryside like a mountain, topped with a wooden arch symbolizing the Gates of Heaven. For centuries it had served as a place for people from all walks of life to gather and worship the Angels.

Johanna stood glaring bitterly at the Chapel before she noticed a horse tied to a hitching post beside the holy building. Curious, she approached. As she walked up beside it the horse remained still, watching her calmly. By the fine quality of the saddle and bridle, Johanna knew the horse must belong to someone rich or important. She spotted a sheathed dagger attached to the saddle, glancing at the horse before cautiously reaching for the knife. The horse made no move. She gently drew out the dagger and backed away.

Turning away from the Chapel, she held the knife in her left hand and raised it to her right arm. After a few moments’ hesitation she closed her eyes and slashed her arm, biting her lip in pain as she felt the blade slice through her flesh. But when she opened her eyes to examine her arm she saw no mark, not a scratch, not a single drop of blood. In frustration she sliced the blade across her neck, yelping as she felt her throat being cut open. Raising a hand to her neck, she felt no blood or cut whatsoever. With a growl of frustration, she hurled the knife through the air, hearing it land in the nearby stream. She sank to the ground and sat in abject silence.

“It is in times like these that the light of the Angels is the hardest to see, but it is there!”

Johanna glanced over her shoulder. The voice came from within the Chapel, presumably belonging to whoever was giving the sermon.

“We ask ourselves, why are we here on this bleak earth; why must we suffer through this mortal life; where are the Angels who claim to watch over us?”

The voice was clear and confident, filled with passion but gentle at the same time. Despite herself, Johanna listened intently as the speaker went on.

“The answer lies both beyond this world and within our own hearts. An eternity of peaceful bliss lies ahead of us; this fleeting mortal existence is a chance to prove ourselves worthy of the life beyond, to show that we, as humans, deserve the Heaven that the Angels have prepared for us. And there is no better opportunity to demonstrate one’s resolve than when times are hard, nights are long, and when the light of the Angels seems so far away as to be invisible. Those who maintain their faith and virtue even in the darkest hours shall arrive in the Angels’ Realm with full certainty that they have earned the eternity of happiness that is offered to them. It is inevitable that we shall feel great pain, weariness and sorrow in our walk through this mortal life, but we must not let our suffering blind us; keep your eyes on the incorruptible good, that which cannot be destroyed by any form of earthly evil: virtue. A virtuous person makes the good they can do in this world their focus and the eternity ahead their hope; together, virtue and hope guide us through times of strife and allow us to rise above the petty ills that may befall us. Mark well, eternity is not a reward for our virtue, for virtue is a more precious reward in itself than anything to be found on Earth or in Heaven.”

A dramatic silence followed as the congregation bowed their heads in prayer. Johanna sat outside, watching as a break in the dark clouds allowed a ray of sunlight to shine through.

Hearing the people inside the Chapel rising to leave, she got up and ran a short distance down the road. Turning back, she saw a well-dressed young man walk out of the Chapel and mount the horse hitched beside it. He looked quizzically at the empty sheath on his saddle and glanced around curiously, before kicking his steed and riding off down the road. As more people filed out of the Chapel, Johanna ran up and accosted an elderly woman as she stepped outside.

“Excuse me,” Johanna asked, pointing towards the departing rider, “that man, he gave the sermon, right? Who was he?”

The old lady looked at Johanna in surprise, then glanced over her shoulder at the man.

“Yes, he did,” she replied. “That’s Eldrik, the youngest son of Baron Brant. Funny thing is, he doesn’t want any part in the baron business at all, he’s making his way as a preacher. Remarkable, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, quite remarkable,” Johanna agreed quietly as she watched the man ride into the distance, his wild black hair whipping about in the wind. She looked back at the old woman and smiled. “Well, good day to you, Ma’am.”

“And to you, Gravedigger,” the woman said respectfully.

*   *   *

Her shovel lay where she had left it, at the foot of her father’s grave. Johanna stood staring at it, the sun’s light shining down on her through the break in the clouds. A brisk wind blew by, whipping her hair about her face and flapping the ends of her coat about her legs. Slowly, she stooped and picked up the shovel, swinging it over her shoulder.

“For virtue is a more precious reward in itself than anything to be found on Earth or in Heaven,” she whispered to herself.

She turned and set off across the field, her shovel held tight in her grasp.