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The gates of Everhart stood open like a wound carved into the stone walls. The night air carried the faint toll of bells, low and steady, each chime echoing sorrow across the city. Torches lit the cobbled roads leading up to the courtyard, and along them, villagers and retainers gathered in silence, heads bowed as the carriage rolled past.
Inside the carriage lay Andrew's body. Wrapped in a shroud of white and silver, his face was calm in death, stripped of the hatred that once burned there. For the first time in years, he looked… human.
Andy walked beside the carriage. His hands rested on Ember Edge and Tide-Singer, both blades strapped to his back, but his steps were heavier than any weight of steel. Beside him, Nia kept close, her hand brushing his arm, lending him the strength he would not ask for. Her eyes never left the coffin, and though her lips trembled, she did not falter.
The carriage entered Everhart's grand courtyard. Nobles lined the marble stairs, dressed in muted silks, jewels hidden behind veils of mourning. Servants held lanterns aloft, their flames flickering as if reluctant to intrude on grief. At the top of the stairs stood Lord Everhart, broad-shouldered and commanding, his white hair gleaming in torchlight, his expression carved from granite.
"Bring him forward," the lord's voice rang out, deep and stern.
Six guards bore the coffin to the dais at the courtyard's center. They lowered it gently onto the stone, draped in the Everhart colors—silver and midnight blue. The banners above stirred in the night wind, their crests seeming to bow with the weight of history.
Andy stepped forward first. His boots echoed sharply across the marble, breaking the silence. He rested a hand against the coffin, eyes closing for a breath. "He deserves rest," Andy said, voice steady despite the ache in his chest.
Lord Everhart's reply was sharp as a blade. "Rest? He brought ruin to villages, chained himself to corruption, and drew steel against his own kin. He betrayed the name Everhart."
Gasps rippled through the nobles. Some lowered their heads in agreement, others cast uneasy glances toward Andy and Nia.
Nia's staff glowed faintly as she stepped forward. Her voice was soft but clear, cutting through the tension. "At the end, he repented. He confessed his envy. He warned us of what lies beyond Solaris, in the Mountain Scar. He was corrupted, yes—but he chose to die as Andrew Everhart, not as the abyss's pawn."
Her words hung in the air. Murmurs spread through the nobles—confusion, dissent, contemplation.
Andy turned to face Lord Everhart, his gaze unyielding. "He was my brother. Whatever choices he made, whatever sins, in the end he entrusted me with his last truth. He deserves to be remembered for that."
The silence stretched. Lord Everhart's eyes narrowed, weighing the defiance in Andy's words, the quiet strength behind Nia's. At last, his shoulders eased, and he turned to address the nobles. "So be it. Let him be buried with rites, but let the chronicles speak of his fall as well as his final choice."
Priests filed in, their chants rising, weaving sorrow into the night air. Incense burned, its fragrance curling upward in pale smoke, filling the hall with a solemn stillness. Nobles lowered their heads; some prayed, others merely watched, their faces unreadable.
Andy and Nia knelt by the coffin. Andy pressed his palm against the wood, whispering words too soft for others to hear. "Rest now, Andrew. I'll carry what you could not."
The System stirred, subtle and resonant, visible only to Andy:
[Quest: Burial of the Fallen Heir — COMPLETED]
[Reward Obtained: Blessing of Closure]
[Bond Progression: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 75% → 77%]
[Stat Bonus: Willpower +10%]
Nia's hand found his, her fingers trembling but sure. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she held her head high.
The priests lifted the coffin once more. The nobles parted as the procession carried Andrew's body toward the Everhart crypts, their voices a murmur of prayers and whispers. Some nobles muttered of disgrace, others of redemption. The weight of divided opinion followed the coffin like a second shroud.
Andy rose, still holding Nia's hand. The two stood together, silent yet united. Their silhouettes stretched across the stone courtyard, outlined by torchlight, as the bells of Everhart tolled again—deep, mournful, unrelenting.
For one man, it was the end. For the two who remained, it was the beginning of a heavier path.
Andy lifted his gaze to the sky, where stars burned bright and cold above Everhart. The Mountain Scar waited, its shadow already looming in his thoughts.
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