It was midday in the Aetheris and the streets of Eldoria grew quieter as Kaelen and Lila walked side by side, leaving behind the bustling center of the city. Their steps carried them toward the edges of the district, where the cobblestone roads gave way to dirt paths lined with older hos. The air grew still, heavy with mory, as if the world itself rembered what had been lost here.
Kaelen’s hand brushed against his sword hilt, now a habit he had long since developed, but his gaze was not fixed on danger this ti. It lingered on the shadows of the past, the faces and laughter of people who had been torn away from him. Beside him, Lila’s presence was calm yet firm, her eyes carrying that quiet glow of soone who had seen too much yet still stood tall.
Finally, the lonely path opened into a wide clearing, and before them stood the weathered walls of a modest orphanage. The old building leaned slightly from the years but still held warmth in its fra. Its courtyard was filled with the echo of laughter, and when Kaelen’s eyes found the source, he froze. Children—running, playing, chasing one another with sticks and wooden toys. Innocent and free.
The sound hit him like a wave. His chest tightened as fragnts of mory surfaced—his younger self sitting on those very steps with Lila, the day after they lost everything. His ntor, gone. Her father, slain. The weight of despair pressing down on them, until Reeves ca, carrying them into a new life at the Academy.
Lila stopped walking, her eyes softening at the sight. For a mont, she wasn’t the Seer touched by Lyseria’s legacy—she was just the girl who had once clung to him in this very place, afraid of the world yet unyielding to it. "It hasn’t changed," she whispered. "It’s... almost like ti never touched this place."
Kaelen nodded slowly, though his throat was dry. "Almost."
Their steps carried them through the gate. The children barely noticed their presence, too lost in their own joy, and that simple purity stabbed at Kaelen more than any blade ever could. He envied them—the way they could laugh without fear of tomorrow.
But then, the warmth faltered. At the far end of the courtyard, a figure erged from the main building. The orphanage keeper—yet not the one Kaelen and Lila rembered. The orphanage keeper that they knew was a gentle woman with a smile that carried them through their darkest nights. But now, In her place stood a stern-faced man in his middle years, his clothes neat but worn from use. His eyes scanned Kaelen and Lila with a cautious sharpness, as though he was used to strangers bringing trouble.
Kaelen’s brows furrowed slightly. "That’s... not her."
Lila’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Has she retired?"
The man approached, his steps steady, his presence quiet yet watchful. He stopped a few paces from them, glancing between the two like he was asuring their intentions. "You don’t look like you’re here to adopt," he said plainly, voice calm but edged with suspicion. "Who are you?"
Kaelen exchanged a look with Lila. The laughter of the children behind them carried on, but it felt distant now. The past and present had collided, and the place that once sheltered them suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Kaelen’s voice ca low, steady. "We used to belong here."
The man’s eyes flickered, a spark of recognition—or perhaps surprise. "Is that so?"
Lila nodded, her tone gentler. "We were orphans here. A long ti ago."
The man studied them for a long mont, then his expression shifted slightly, sothing softer breaking through the guard. "Then I suppose this place is still your ho."
But in Kaelen’s chest, the word ho didn’t bring comfort. Instead, it reminded him of everything he and Lila had lost—and everything they had yet to protect.
At that mont, the courtyard that once carried their laughter now felt heavier than stone. The middle-aged man stood before them, his rough hands folded behind his back, his weathered eyes lowering when he saw the way Kaelen and Lila looked at him—expecting soone else.
He exhaled slowly, as if bracing himself.
"You might be searching for Mistress Elira," he said, his tone stern, though there was sothing fragile beneath it. "She... she’s no longer with us. Her health had been failing for years, and a winter ago... it finally claid her."
"What?"
The words slamd into Kaelen like a hamr against his chest. He felt his throat constrict, his breath stutter for a mont. He had braced for many things in life—duels against opponents stronger than him, facing horrors that sought to devour entire cities—but not this. Not her.
Beside him, Lila staggered a step back as if struck. Her lips parted, her voice caught in the swirl of disbelief. "She’s... gone?" The sharpness of her usual tone cracked, revealing the softer girl beneath—the one Kaelen rembered from long ago, clutching at Elira’s skirts for comfort.
The stern man gave a small nod, not cruel, not detached—just final. "She passed peacefully. Surrounded by the few who remained with her. She spoke of you two... often."
That broke Kaelen’s silence. He pressed a hand to his chest, as though trying to cage the storm threatening to spill out. Elira hadn’t been blood to him, but she had been the first warmth after the cold abyss of his ntor’s death. She was the one who gave him bread when he was too proud to ask, the one who reminded him that loss didn’t an abandonnt.
And now, she was gone.
Lila lowered her head, her long lashes trembling as tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks. She covered her mouth, but the sob still broke through—raw, unrestrained, unbefitting the icy composure she always wore.
Kaelen reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against hers, and she didn’t pull away Because at that mont, they weren’t the Avatar of Eternity nor the last Seer and the Descendant of Lyseria. Rather, they were simply two children again, mourning the woman who once wiped their tears and whispered lullabies in the dark.
Silence hung until Lila’s voice, shaky but determined, rose.
"Can... can we visit her grave?" she asked, turning her red-rimd eyes toward the man.
The orphanage keeper studied her, then Kaelen, and after a pause, gave a solemn nod. "Yes. Follow ."
They trailed behind him, past the courtyard of laughing children whose joy felt almost cruel in the face of what they carried in their hearts. The laughter seed distant, blurred by the pounding of Kaelen’s pulse in his ears. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to steady himself.
The man led them through a quiet path behind the orphanage, one Kaelen rembered faintly—where Elira used to take them when they were restless, showing them the wildflowers blooming stubbornly between the cracks of stone. Now, that sa path ended in a small grove.
There, marked with simplicity, was her grave. A single stone, unadorned but clean, sat at the heart of the grove. A cluster of wildflowers rested at its base, freshly laid, swaying gently in the breeze as though bowing to their presence.
The man stopped a few steps away. "I’ll give you your ti," he murmured, and then faded back, leaving Kaelen and Lila alone with their grief.
Kaelen’s knees threatened to buckle as he stared at the na carved into the stone. Elira. Just her na—no grand title, no recognition of the countless lives she had nded. It felt too small, too inadequate. His chest tightened until he dropped to one knee, his hand trembling as he brushed the cool stone.
"...I thought I’d co back one day and thank you properly," Kaelen whispered, his voice ragged. "For... for giving a ho when I thought I had none. For believing I could still beco sothing even when I was broken. And now..." His voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead to the stone. "...I’m too late."
Beside him, Lila sank to the ground, her long fingers curling into the grass. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks as she smiled through the pain.
"You used to tell my father’s spirit was watching over . That I wasn’t as alone as I thought. I... I wanted to tell you that you were right. But now..." She choked back another sob, bowing her head. "Now who will tell the sa when I forget?"
The two of them sat in silence for a long mont, broken only by the wind rustling through the leaves and the distant laughter of the children who would never know the weight of this loss.
Kaelen finally spoke again, his tone steadier, though the tremor never left. "We’ll carry her with us. Every step we take, every battle we fight, every ti we protect soone who cannot protect themselves... we’ll carry her. That’s the only way to honor her."
Lila nodded faintly, brushing the tears from her face though more followed. She reached out and laid a small flower she had picked along the way at the grave’s base. "Rest well, Elira. We’ll make you proud."
The two of them knelt there until the sky shifted, the sun dipping low and painting the grove in hues of orange and gold. And in that quiet, with heavy hearts, Kaelen and Lila found themselves bound not just by loss, but by the promise of mory—the promise that Elira would not be forgotten.
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