The cemetery was quieter than usual.
No cars. No birds. Just the kind of wind that sounded like it was holding its breath.
From the tallest sycamore, cloaked in tech-camouflage and woven light, I watched him.
Leo.
Fourteen now. Taller. Sharper features. Still wearing that same ratty hoodie like armor. Still carrying too much in those eyes for a kid his age.
He walked the path like it belonged to him. Like this little patch of earth was sacred. It was, in a way.
Every week. Same day. Same time.
3:04 p.m.
The time they said I died.
The time I made the world forget I lived.
He crouched in front of the headstone I designed myself. I even picked the damn quote:
"A brother. A light. A hero."
I'd never felt like one. But Leo believed it. Still does.
He muttered something. I could barely make it out.
"Hey. It's been a while, I know…"
His voice was thin. Raw.
