The echoes of footsteps sounded through the snow blasted ruin. One of the few last standing bastions of human life in Europe, only occupied by a single individual. The great windows stood boarded and insulated against the thrashing winds. The benches were long gone, repurposed to fuel the hearth in the middle of the hall, it's shallow fires sputtering out weak embers amongst the frost coated floor. Where before thousands came to visit it's spectacle, now all that was left was a single house of God in a sea of desolation.

Cologne cathedral, before seen as one of the greatest works of the European man, now was seen as one the last. The fall struck the big cities the hardest, looting and rioting were widespread before the migration began. Pregnant mothers, children, the old and the healthy all set out south intent on finding refuge where warmer winds blow. Yet, like all such events, some were left behind.

The echoing suddenly came to a halt, and looking up from the altar you would only see a single frail young man. Elijah Lugn. Known by many other names such as "orphan bastard" or "thieving rat." Yet here he was not known as an orphan or a thief, here he was not hated by people or the world at large. Here he was loved, here he had someone who cared for him. Even amongst all this cold, he found something- no, someone, who would listen to his troubles and shield his soul.

Kneeling down before the altar, he lowered his hood. A scruffy beard adorning his face, striking out against his pale skin. Dirty blonde hair stood upon his head, coming down at shoulder length. His features were haggard and looking upon them, you'd clearly see the signs of starvation. Looking down you'd see what could only be called a collection of rags, sewn together to form a thick coat to shield his body from the cold. Looking further down though, you'd see it wasn't enough. An opening in his boots revealed not the pale skin adorning his face, but a dark mass, lost to the frost. Yet, amongst all that misery, his most defining look was his eyes. Gentle and warm, amongst all the cold lay a pair of green eyes and upon them reflected the visage of God's own son.

A single wooden cross, taken from an abandoned basement before the frost truly came in, adorned the high altar where the shrine of the three kings once stood. However, even in all its simplicity, it served its purpose well for frail young Elijah as he spoke in a raspy, hushed voice.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as in heaven."

He paused for a moment as he coughed dryly, not having spoken for hours on end. After dying down, he continued.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we have forgiven those trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

He maintained his stance, bowing before the cross with his eyes closed, trying to tune out the noise of the wind against the stained glass. His shaking hands tightly gripping his necklace, a crucifix hanging on the end.

Slowly opening his eyes as he stood up, he then limped his way to the side of the altar. There, resting against the wall was a small wooden chest with intricate shapes running across its surface which culminated in the centerpiece. There it displayed knight kneeling before his king, with the king resting his sword upon the knight's shoulder. Opening it, it revealed a purple silken interior with but two scant items inside. One was the broken remainder of a piece of bread, the other was a small vial of wine with only a few drops left inside. The sight brought a small sigh to the man, his eyes now full of regret, sorrow and resignation. Picking them up gently, and doing his best to not let them fall out of his hands, he returned to the altar.

Standing in front of it yet again, he took the bread and placed it in his mouth, then gently raising the vial, he finished his short communion. For him, it was with great shame that he turned around and looked across the empty halls.

"4 years," he thought. "4 years since I first reached this holy place. 4 years of doing the lord's work."

He let out a sad smile.

"And yet, here I stand. Dying and frail of body with only the armor of faith keeping me from falling apart… I wonder, father. Will you still recieve me, despite my failing?"

He looked up, expecting an answer. Seconds ticked by, then minutes, with the winds being his only company. Closing his eyes, he sighed. Yet as he opened them once more, he saw a faint light towards one of the openings in the windows. Moonshine flowing through, and cascading towards a single object. The cross, upon the altar.

Elijah's eyes widened and a smile not of sadness, but of joy came to his face.

"Yes! Finally!" He thought as he ran as best a limping man could towards the altar. "My prayers have been answered!"

Standing in front of it he picked it up and held it against his chest. He remembered once more why he had spent all those days looking through the holy texts. Why he had served communion for all those years with God being his only companion.

He turned around and slumped against the altar, his legs finally giving out on him. The light of his hearth standing in the middle of the church began to falter as only weak embers escaped it.

His eyes focused on the cross held in his thin arms he felt his body growing colder as life began escaping him.

"I'm coming home, father."

He rasped out as his vision began to blur. He had finally given up, after all the years and struggles. He remembered the despair he felt as he woke up from his short lived coma in an alley in Helsingborg. Everyone he once knew was gone and he was but a part of the few civilised beings left. From facing down bears and raiders in the tundra of Denmark to walking through the ruins of Hamburg. He remembered the frozen remains of people he never knew yet felt great sadness for. From the young children out in the snow to the lovers grasping each other tightly for warmth.

He remembered the sight of the Elbe, frozen over with countless corpses strewn across below the surface among the bridge he discovered. Further still he remembered his discovery of a single survivor, a little girl, no older than 13. For 3 days and nights he toiled away trying to heal her, trying everything he had learnt from his time in the frost. Yet even then, it was not enough. The frostbite had taken her and no warmth could heal the black scourge that had taken her legs. He remembered how he cried as he held her little body, her little smile gone now replaced with the dull expression only the dead could make. He spent seven days trying to dig through the permafrost for a grave, yet his pick, shovel and hands laid broken against the bitter cold. Eventually giving into it, and burning her body instead, hoping that perhaps it would warm her frozen soul. Her urn now inside the church, where Jesus might recieve her and hold her in his ever loving grasp.

He remembered when he first laid his eyes upon the great cathedral. Before then, he was never a man of God. It was just stories he told himself, made up to scare children into obeying the law. However, when he looked upon the cathedral in all its splendour, in all its glory, a single thought crossed his mind. This, he thought, this cannot be the work of just man. That single thought sparked a curiosity which lit a blaze within him, giving him life and purpose.

He remembered when he first stepped into it, the white light of the outside shimmering against the painted glass. It looked as if all the stars had fallen from the sky in all their colours and danced with joy at his coming.

Yet, like all great men, the body gives out before the spirit. But as he lay there, frostbite covering left foot he let out a single act of defiance against his bitter foe, the cold.

"A-amazing grace… how sweet the sound…"

Echoed throughout the church.

"To s-save a wretch like me… I o-once w-was lost but now I-I'm found…"

His head finally fell towards his chest as light began cascading through all the windows at once, covered by plank or not as a multitude of voices sang with him.

"Was blind but now I see."

Author's Note

This story miiiiight unintentionally get some parts of Christian faith wrong btw. I'll try my best. (Although there will obviously be some fucking around since this is a fantasy adventure.)