The knight remained still, its blade buried deep in the earth, head lowered in silence.
Azhriel stepped forward, eyes softening as he looked down at the figure that had guarded this place for whole sixteen years.
He raised a hand and gently patted the knight’s shoulder. The surface of the armor shimred—its body flickering like a dying constellation, its presence unstable.
"Thanks, for protecting her grave," Azhriel said, voice low, reverent. "You did well. Now... rest, please."
There was no need for more. No flourish. No command.
The knight’s form pulsed once, as if hearing the permission it had waited an eternity for.
The stars within its body shimred—and then began to scatter, drifting upward like glimring ashes into the sky.
The knight bowed even deeper, his ethereal form bending low in a gesture of final loyalty.
Then, a voice—fragile, like it had crossed centuries to reach him—echoed from the fading remnants.
"This is left by my lady for you. I apologise... for not being able to protect her, my lord."
And with that, he was gone.
Like dust on the wind, the guardian faded. Its sword crumbled into motes of starlight. No sound, no cry. Just stillness.
And at last, peace.
Azhriel stood still, his gaze locked on the spot the knight once knelt.
His heart felt heavier.
He looked at his hand or at the box in his hand.
The white box in his hands pulsed faintly, golden engravings glowing softly as his mana flowed into it.
Click.
The lock opened with a gentle sound, but Azhriel didn’t look inside.
His steps were slow, steady—like he feared disturbing the silence. He moved closer to the grave and knelt down, folding his legs beneath him.
The grave was simple. Clean. A small white stone, untouched by ti.
He stared at it.
At the na etched upon it.
His mother’s na.
His gaze dulled, distant. His breath quiet. He just sat there, as if the world beyond this mont had ceased to matter.
For who knew how long, he simply sat there, quiet, unmoving.
Then finally, he spoke.
"Hey, mom... look who’s here," he said with a broken chuckle. "Your foolish son."
His voice cracked faintly, barely holding itself together.
"Heh... it’s amazing, right? How I didn’t even know you were here all this ti."
His eyes shimred, catching the sunlight—but it wasn’t the light making them glisten.
"Do you know...?" he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"I got my mories back. My soul too. All of it."
He looked at the grave again, eyes soft with sothing fragile.
"All the mories—yours, dad’s... even if it was just for two hours, I rember every little thing."
He let out a soft breath.
"Pretty cool, right? Your Azhriel rembered stuff from when he was just born."
His voice trembled—but it carried warmth. The kind you used when speaking to soone still there... not a na carved in stone.
The wind passed by, gentle and cool, brushing his cheek like a mother’s fingers once did.
Drop
And then—at last—the tear fell.
He didn’t want it to.
But it ca anyway.
Drip Drop.
And with it, ca more.
One after another, they dropped—raw and unrelenting. Regret, sorrow, longing—all bursting from the dam that had been kept sealed for years.
The earth beneath him drank the tears like it had waited, like even it understood, what he was going through.
Because that pain...
It wasn’t just grief.
It was the cry of a son who had finally found where his heart had been buried.
He cried until his eyes ran dry, until the grief settled like dust over old mories. His face was streaked with tear marks, red and silent.
Only after a long breath did he shift, his gaze falling to the sleek white box glowing faintly in his lap.
He opened it slowly, reverently. Inside it lay three items. Simple, yet weighted with aning.
A letter—folded with care, sealed with a golden emblem he faintly rembered from childhood.
A ring-black as night, with azure hexagonic patterns flowing on its surface.
And a pair of black gloves—neatly folded, lined with dark silver and gold trim and design. They were light, and... enchanted; he could feel it.
He held them for a mont, just staring.
Then slowly, with the gentleness of soone unwrapping a mory, he set the box down beside the grave and picked up the letter.
The golden seal peeled away with a soft crackle, like old sunlight breaking through fog.
He unfolded it.
---
Hey there, sunshine.
If you’re reading this letter... then I guess you’ve turned sixteen. It also ans that you’ve awakened—your mories, your power, all of it.
I wonder, how are you doing?.
We are really sorry, to leave you in this wretched world alone. Please forgive us.
Ah, there are so many things that I want to tell you like- don’t be like your mother in behaviour, or don’t forget to eat. But i don’t have much ti so we will be leaving you so things that will help you, and rember this.
Be kind but not stupid.
Be cold but not heartless.
Be strong but not overconfident.
So, my dear Azhriel, don’t be harsh on yourself and please happy.
Also, your father had also left a letter for you. I think you already know where it is right?. So, go there when the ti is right.
Father and Mother loves you the most.
So Goodbye, for...now, my child.
Azhriel’s hand trembled, the parchnt fluttering in his grip like a dying breath caught in ti.
He didn’t blink. He couldn’t.
Each word carved into his heart, every sentence like a gentle hand reaching out from the past—so warm, so painfully kind. His breath shuddered as he clutched the letter closer, pressing it to his chest.
"...So stupid," he whispered, voice cracking. "Why’d you write this like we’ll talk again tomorrow..."
The breeze shifted, soft and warm, brushing past his face as if in answer.
Azhriel stared at the sky, where no stars shone, yet sohow the light still reached him.
"I won’t let you down,mom." he whispered. "I’ll live... I’ll try to be happy. Just watch ."
He gently folded the letter and placed it back into the box with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Then he looked at the ring and gloves.
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