Christ did not to his first disciples say, "go forth, and to the world preach idle tales," but unto them a true foundation gave.

Firefly: Seven Deadly Sins

Prologue

Beatrice Lodovico

2463-2505

Loving Mother and Wife

Not Forgotten

The grave marking was simple, as was its design. A white slab of marble in the small backyard space that the Lodovicos shared with two other families on Londinium. No-one had objected to the grave marker here, even after Beatrice Lodovico's body was cremated after the funeral at St Portinari Church. And, as a slight drizzle came down over New Cardiff, no one objected to him being out here either. As he sat on the grass and watched the hologram of his mother. She'd been younger then, back when his memories of her were as a child. But now, he could appreciate her beauty. And above all, her smile. The kind that could reassure a young boy that all was right in the world.

But like her beauty, the smile had vanished from her body, when a car had ploughed into her at over 120 kilometres per hour on a Friday night that would remain in his memory for the rest of his life. Her death had been instant, the police had said. The driver had lost his licence and was facing at least five years, they said. They, and many other people, had said a lot of things. That she was with God now. That all things happened for a reason. But all he knew was that his mother was dead. And that he was not yet in Heaven with her.

"Dante?"

He remained seated on the grass as he heard his father's voice, as well as his footsteps.

"Are you alright?"

Dante looked up at him as he sat down beside his son, before returning his gaze to the gravestone. In one hand was a wooden cross. In the other a glass of wine. He'd been drinking a lot of that recently. Last week he'd even missed church – when he'd gone to his room, he'd found him snoring away, with three empty bottles on his bed.

"She's in a better place now."

Dante remained silent. He knew that. Why did everyone have to keep repeating those words? Did they have so little confidence in the strength of his faith? Or was it their own that was weak, and they required words to strengthen their spirit?

"But it isn't God's will that we join her yet," Father continued. He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "She would not want you to waste your life."

"I know," he said. He kept on staring. And sitting. He shivered as water droplets made their way down the back of his neck, making their way through flesh and soul. "She always said…" He trailed off. His mother had said a lot of things. Now, she would say no more. Pray as much as he could, he had realized that the word of the departed was not meant for mortal ears.

"Come on," his father said, as he got to his feet. "Dinner's nearly ready."

Dante remained seated. The image of his mother smiled at him, and the recording reset.

"Dante?"

"She said she'd always be proud of me," he continued. "And with tensions raising in the border planets-"

"Dante, we talked about this."

"And I'll be sixteen next year." He looked up at his father. "I talked to a recruiter at school. The Marines are-"

"Dante, you are not becoming a soldier. And there isn't going to be a war." His father grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to get to his feet. "Now get inside. I won't hear any more of this."

"Father, I want to do something! I can't just lie in paradise while better men man the walls, and-"

"Enough!" His father threw the glass at the gravestone, shattering it. Not unlike his mother's body. "Dante…" He sighed, putting his hand back on his son's shoulder. "You're my son. You're only fifteen. You're far too young to think about these things. Especially fighting on the other side of the 'Verse."

"God will be with me Father. And it is still my choice."

The grasp tightened. "Not yet," his father said darkly. "And I pray that you will never have to make it."

Thunder rolled in the sky, hinting of a coming storm. The grass would grow. The soil will be replenished. By water, and not by blood.

"Now come inside."

His father turned and went to their house. Two stories, three bedrooms, and a lot of empty space. And yet he remained outside. Looking at the grave. At the gaze of Beatrice Lodovico. A recording. Falsehood, almost, for he knew that she was looking down at him.

"Watch over me Mother," he whispered.

And he turned to go inside as well. To follow his father into the light. And yet, find none.

And cast your light upon me.

Thunder rolled once more and he looked upwards. It was summer, and White Sun was still high in the sky. How long would that sky remain clear, he wondered? What if tensions between the core and border worlds continued to escalate? How long would Londinium be safe?

"Dante, come in!"

And if men like his father did not stand up, who would?

"Dante!"

"Coming," he called out. Giving one last glance at the sky, as thunder was joined by lighting. And the rain of the heavens was the released.

And the trumpet sounds.

And cast one last look at the grave as well. Knowing that the dead would never be raised.

Even as Armageddon loomed.

A/N

So, it's finally done. Or begun.

By way of clarification of that statement, the idea for this story was a challenge I set myself years ago - write a seven-chaptered story (1) where each of the seven chapters corresponds to one of the seven cardinal sins (similar to how Rainbow corresponded to the seven traditional colours of the rainbow in its narrative). It didn't take me long to decide on writing a story that focused on the Operative from Serenity, and...well, you'll see where that goes. What took slightly longer was writing it - this story began in December 2014, and now, in January 2016, have I finally managed to finish and start posting it.

So, hopefully it's worth the wait.

(1) Not including the prologue and epilogue. The idea for the prologue came about halfway through the story so I decided to go back and start the story earlier than otherwise intended.