The cemetery was closed today, no one could enter, and no one could say who had died to be so special. Not that anyone really cared to go to that gloomy place if they had to endure drop after drop of rain, which already made it impossible to move around the city.
While the citizens of Miracolo, due to the days of rain, rested warmly in their homes, at the cemetery, the repeated sound of drops on the umbrellas of the guests could be heard. Talos, hearing this sound continuously, could not stop thinking about how annoying it was that this funeral seemed so depressing, even though the cliché of the storm was so banal.
There were 18 guests at the sad gathering, and the emotions present on their faces were varied on almost every one of them. Of course, there were those who cried, those who felt anger, those who showed respect, and others who felt nothing in particular, but all shared a strong sense of confusion.
Talos didn't know what to feel about the deceased; he had no particular bond, neither with him nor with the others, but he was frustrated, frustrated for losing one of them, but above all, he felt fear, because never in billions of years had a demon or an angel tasted death.
While Talos brooded, staring at his feet, a tall man had positioned himself in front of everyone, with a microphone:
"Today, my companions, we mourn the loss of our dear companion and friend, Mida, [demon of greed], whose death has marked, for the first time, not just a wound to the demons, but to all of us." The man sighed with regret.
"I swear, along with you, to avenge Mida, who perished at the hands of a [disaster], a common enemy whom we have always underestimated, and who has now taken his life."
Placing a hand over his chest, the man closed his eyes, and so did Talos and everyone else. No one knew where his soul had gone, but whether they were angels or demons, that day they would honor him, and a vow was made.