The sun had already sunk behind the hills, painting the horizon in pale shades of orange and gray. The cold evening wind passed through the trees, making the leaves rustle like a constant whisper. A month had passed since Arthur's burial. During that time, Maria, Anthony, and Emanuelle had remained at Elise's home. Elian, already regarded as her apprentice, had his own room prepared long before.
In that month, Anthony had kept a quiet ritual: visiting the farm several times a week to be near his father's grave. Twice, maybe three times, and whenever possible, Marduk accompanied him, guiding the horse along the silent road to the property. Emanuelle and Maria also went a few times, though less often.
On one such visit, as the day died and the cold deepened, Anthony found something half-buried in the corner of the old shed: the hoe his father had used most often, a gift from his father back when he was a child. His hands trembled slightly as they touched the worn handle. Without hesitation, he asked Marduk to cut a piece of the wood to place atop the grave.
The dry sound of the cut echoed in the cold air, and soon the handle stood planted as a silent marker over the earth. Marduk watched the scene carefully, then broke the silence.
"You would like me to make a stone headstone?"
Maria, crying as she watched her son place something so symbolic for Arthur on the grave, lifted her face and answered in a low voice, as if hesitating to ask for more.
"I would… but… would that be a problem?"
Marduk shook his head, dismissing any concern.
"No problem at all, Mrs. Maria. I feel indebted to you, for not having been able to protect Arthur."
The wind blew stronger, carrying the damp scent of earth and making Marduk's mantle billow. A fourth-rank mage already nearing fifty, his graying hair and the lines on his face bore the mark of time. He was skilled in the arts of illusion, but his mana manipulation remained at an intermediate level, something that kept him far from higher ascension. In the world of mages, deeds alone were not enough to rise in rank — one needed mastery, power, and often, the ability to endure the weight of political interference.
Hearing the restrained regret in his voice, Maria quickly replied.
"You're not to blame for anything, Mr. Marduk," she said firmly, though her eyes brimmed with tears. "You did all you could! If it weren't for you, I… I…"
Her voice broke before she could finish. Glancing at Anthony and Emanuelle crouched beside the grave, her tears returned with force. Marduk bit his lip, regretting having stirred such heavy memories. He searched for words of comfort, but Maria continued before he could speak.
"I cannot blame you, Mr. Marduk. You saved me and my children. And for that, I must thank you deeply."
With a solemn gesture, she bowed low, and the muffled sound of the wind filled the silence that followed, as the first stars emerged in the cold sky.
"I'd be grateful if you could do that, Mr. Marduk," Maria added, her voice trembling.
Marduk gave a slight nod, speaking no more. He walked toward the grave, where the hoe stood like a silent sentinel. The damp ground yielded under his heavy boots, and the cold evening air wrapped the moment in a mantle of reverence.
Maria followed quietly, wiping her tears quickly as if afraid the children would see her cry again. The mage stopped beside Anthony and Emanuelle, lowering himself slightly to rest a hand on each of their shoulders.
"I'll make the headstone for him. I want you two to step back for a bit." His voice was low, yet carried a calm authority.
Anthony and Emanuelle exchanged glances. Reluctantly, they took a few steps back, moving to stand beside their mother, who wrapped an arm around each of them. Maria watched attentively, as though each gesture Marduk made was part of a sacred rite.
Before starting, he looked at her.
"What would you like me to write on the stone?" he asked.
Maria hesitated. Her eyes lingered for a few seconds on the grave, on the hoe, on the hands that had once worked that soil. When she spoke, her voice was low, almost a whisper carried away by the wind.
"Here lies a man of the earth… who returned to the earth."
Marduk inclined his head in respect, as if accepting those words as a sacred command.
"So it shall be."
He turned back to the grave, took a deep breath, and extended his hands over the soil.
"Ars Terrae," he murmured.
The response was immediate: the ground began to shift, rising as though given life. Clods and stones detached, slowly swirling until they formed a solid block of gray stone. With precise movements of his hands, Marduk shaped the surface, smoothing it, tracing its edges, giving it the form of a rectangular slab.
The deep sound of earth compacting mixed with the whisper of the wind, and there was something almost ritualistic in the way he worked — not merely with magic, but with respect.
Once the base was firm, he inclined his head and began engraving, using a thin beam of mana to etch Arthur's name. Each letter shone briefly before fixing itself into the stone, as if his memory were being carved not only into the mineral but into the very air around it. Just below, he inscribed Maria's words with the same delicacy and solemnity:
"Here lies a man of the earth, who returned to the earth."
When finished, he stepped back and let the family see the completed work. The headstone stood simple and steadfast, much like the man it represented.
★★★
They remained there for several more minutes, silent, simply looking at and touching the headstone Marduk had just raised. Maria's hands moved slowly across the cold stone, as if wanting to memorize every line, every imperfection, to etch that moment into her soul. Anthony and Emanuelle imitated her, letting their fingers trace the carved letters, feeling the relief as though they could reach their father on the other side.
"Thank you, Mr. Marduk…" Maria said, her voice trembling, bowing slightly. Anthony and Emanuelle mirrored the gesture in silent respect.
Marduk hesitated, visibly moved, but finally took a deep breath.
"I know it's rude of me…" he began, his tone heavy with regret, "but we need to leave. It's getting dark."
Only then did Maria notice the sun had already slipped behind the hills, the sky's pale orange giving way to the gray of night. The air was colder now, and the wind sweeping across the field carried the scent of damp earth.
"Say goodbye to your father, Anthony, Emanuelle…" she murmured, a knot in her throat.
Anthony went first. He knelt before the headstone, resting his hand on the freshly settled earth. He stayed there for a few seconds, saying nothing, until words came, low and nearly choked.
"I… promise to take care of Mom, of Emanuelle, and of Elian." His voice trembled. "I'll be strong… like you were." The tears finally broke free, streaming down his face as he leaned forward to press his forehead against the cold stone.
Maria, her heart tightening, stepped forward and placed a hand on her son's shoulder, trying to lend him strength she herself barely had left.
Emanuelle remained still for a few moments, staring at her father's name etched into the stone. Her lips quivered, but no words came. When she finally knelt, the tears fell uncontrollably.
"Daddy… I don't want you to stay here alone…" she sobbed. "I promise I'll train hard… and I'll be the mage you always said I could be…" Her voice broke mid-sentence, and she pressed her face against the stone, as if trying to embrace him one last time.
Unable to hold back, Maria dropped to her knees between them, wrapping both in a tight embrace. She felt the warmth of their small bodies against hers, their mingled cries, while tears once again streamed freely from her eyes.
"He's watching over us… he always will…" she said, though her own voice betrayed the pain laced in every word.
The wind rose, swaying the grass around them, blending the faint rustle of leaves with their muffled sobs. For a moment, it seemed the earth itself was bidding farewell with them.
When Maria, Anthony, and Emanuelle finally stood, their faces were still wet with tears, but there was something in their eyes — a mix of grief and a silent vow — that Arthur, wherever he was, would recognize.
★★★
The return was silent, with almost no words exchanged. The wagon's wheels creaked over the dirt road, accompanied only by the rhythmic trot of the horses. The landscape around them looked as weary as they did: some houses stood abandoned, windows boarded shut, doors half-open and creaking in the wind. Their former inhabitants had left in search of a better life in other lands.
Brumaria remained under the rule of Baron Hoffmann — a greedy noble who cared little for the people's suffering, so long as he lived in abundance.
The trip back took about an hour and a half. The sun, already low when they departed, had vanished completely behind the hills, and the night's cold crept in. The silver light of the moon emerged shyly, reflecting off the puddles left by the previous rain and casting a pale glow on the road. The wind whistled through the trees, carrying with it the damp scent of the earth.
By the time they reached Elise's home, darkness had fully settled, with only the moon's soft light illuminating the yard.
"Thank you so much for today, Mr. Marduk," Maria said as she stepped down from the wagon, her voice low but laden with gratitude.
"There's no need to thank me, Mrs. Maria. I had the time to spare," he replied with a slight nod.
"Even so… thank you very much."
Anthony and Emanuelle also thanked him before turning to enter the house with their mother.
The moment they stepped inside, the scent of fresh herbs filled the air, blending with the gentle warmth from the fireplace. At the entrance, wearing a white healer's robe, stood Elian.
He had gone with them a few times to visit his father's grave, but the tightness in his chest each time had made him reduce those visits. He rarely cried in front of others, but alone, he let the tears fall. He had decided to use this time to help Elise and to learn more about healing and potions, while also saving money to rebuild the family home — a place that would be theirs alone.
Not that Elise complained about their presence, but Maria, like anyone, dreamed of having her own space again. Deep down, Elian didn't feel safe at the thought of them living isolated again — not after Arthur's murder. He and Elise knew who was responsible and feared he might try something else.
Maria refused to live there without contributing. She took on part of the cleaning of the house and infirmary. Anthony began helping in the garden and vegetable patch, tending to the herbs Elise used for potions and teas.
Emanuelle split her time between helping her mother with cleaning and learning from Elise. In her free moments, the mage taught her to read, write, and more recently, to use healing magic. Though she did not have Elian's proficiency — aided by his memories from another life — she learned quickly. Together, they practiced in the backyard and assisted Elise with simple patients, though Emanuelle never treated anyone alone.
Perhaps, deep down, Elise also moved out of a sense of guilt. Sometimes her gaze betrayed an intent to help that family through their grief, even if it took years. Besides, training Emanuelle as a mage meant giving her a future with more freedom — the chance not to depend on marriage or any man for protection.
"Welcome back, Mother, Anthony, Manu," Elian greeted with a smile.
"We're back, son," Maria replied, embracing him.
Anthony only extended a hand in a brief, typical greeting for him. Emanuelle, on the other hand, wrapped her arms around her brother quickly before beginning to tell him, with a spark of excitement, about the headstone Marduk had made.
"Really, Manu? Thank you for telling me. I wish I had seen it," Elian said, a faint sadness in his tone.
Maria noticed and replied,
"On the next visit, you will. Anthony also found a hoe your father had been given by your grandfather when he was a boy, and he placed it there as a symbol."
"Really, Anthony?" Elian asked. "Thank you for doing that. I'm sure Father was glad."
"Yes… I think he would've liked it," Anthony answered, his voice tight, eyes lowered.
Perhaps to break the mood, Emanuelle asked suddenly,
"Eli, why don't we recite chants when we use magic?" She recalled Marduk casting spells.
Elian had asked himself that before. In the beginning, Maria had taught him with recitation, but he discovered he could cast without it, with more practice. He had written it all down in his grimoire, and when he gave it to Emanuelle, she learned quickly. Elise, however, could not reproduce the method.
"I don't know, Manu… maybe because we're still kids and adapt more easily," he answered, though unsure if it was true.
Elise suddenly appeared, coming from the back where the infirmary was, wiping her hands on a white linen cloth.
"Welcome back, Maria," she said warmly.
"Thank you, Elise. I'm back," Maria replied, bowing her head slightly in respect.
"I know you just got here, but… shall we prepare dinner?" Elise asked, already moving toward the kitchen.
"Of course," Maria agreed, following her with light steps. Before disappearing down the hallway, she turned to her children: "Manu, Anthony, Elian, take a bath before dinner."
"Yes, Mother," they replied in unison.
The smell of hot broth and seasonings began to spread through the house as the water in the pot boiled, releasing a comforting steam.
An hour later, the five were gathered at the table. Dinner was simple but made with care: a well-seasoned vegetable soup, fluffy rice, fresh greens, and a few pieces of chicken. Steam rose from the bowls, carrying the aroma of sautéed onions and herbs, warming the cold air seeping through the cracks in the windows.
The meal began in silence, the only sound being the clinking of spoons against ceramic. Elian was the first to break it, telling how he had prepared a potion for nausea all by himself. Maria smiled proudly, seeing how much her son was progressing in his studies.
In contrast, Emanuelle frowned and pouted slightly.
"I'm falling way behind…" she murmured, stirring her soup without enthusiasm.
"I'll teach you too, Emanuelle," Elise said in a calm tone, trying to cheer her.
The dinner went on without much more conversation until Elise's communication amulet glowed gold, casting reflections over the table. The silence grew heavier.
Elise stood and answered. The voice on the other side was male, hoarse, but too faint for the others to make out the words.
"Alright… yes, I understand. Very well, I'll be there," she replied, then ended the call.
Returning to her seat, she stayed quiet for a few seconds. No one dared ask. Until, of her own accord, she spoke.
"Maria," she called, and her tone made the woman straighten in her chair. "The meeting I requested with the arcane council has been scheduled."
"For when?" Maria asked cautiously.
"In a week." Elise paused briefly, her gaze shifting toward Elian. "And there's more… They want me to bring Elian with me."