When Christmas arrived, Egemed published the book they had worked on together. He did not spend the holiday at home with his family; the joy of celebration felt distant to him. Instead, he stayed up late into the night, wearing as many layers as he could to fend off the cold, and left home at ten past seven.
In his hand, he clutched a freshly printed copy of their book — a tangible proof of their shared success.
He strode alone along the quiet, snow-dusted pathways. From nearby homes, he could hear laughter, cheering, and Christmas music drifting from warm living rooms. But as he drew closer to Jerelr's grave, the sounds of celebration began to fade, replaced by the soft, solitary cry of a bird. The night wrapped around him like a dark, cold blanket, but he walked on without fear.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered into the empty air, greeting Jerelr in the chill of midnight.
Before taking a seat near the tomb, he had thought of making a small fire to keep warm, but quickly dismissed the idea — he feared someone might see him and misinterpret his vigil as something sinister. So instead, he leaned against the cold stone and began to speak, as though Jerelr were right there beside him.
...
"Jerelr… I hope you don't mind me visiting you this late and in the cold. I couldn't come during the day, and I've been so busy."
He paused
"Do you know what good happened today?" He chuckled softly.
"I've published our book… here's a print-out, for the success of it, from your company." He gently placed the folded paper on the grave.
"I haven't been able to contact your parents yet, and they haven't reached out either… and… congratulationsto us."
He paused, letting the words linger. Then, a sob broke through.
"I wonder what we would be doing today if you were still alive. I miss you so much. I can't help but come here, even though you're gone."
"I thought… you might be cold here alone, so I came. I hope you don't hate me for acting like an idiot. People might think I'm mad, Jerelr, but I… I still feel like you have so much to say to me that you couldn't."
"I feel pity for you. I want you not to regret for leaving me so soon."
"I treat you as if you were still here with me… even without your physical presence, I believe you're here spiritually. I know you still want to spend Christmas with me too right?"
Calmly, softly, he spoke into the stillness of the cold night, as if Jerelr were there, listening in silence.
He let out a deep sigh and leaned gently against Jerelr's tomb, lifting his gaze to the sky. Thousands of stars glittered above, bright and indifferent, while his heart ached as memories swept over him — the cold nights spent together in the Valley of Breath, a single flickering candle, laughter spilling freely, and the frantic joy of exchanging letters just before the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve.
Tears began to fall, but the biting cold stole them mid-fall, freezing them against his cheeks, mingling sorrow and frost in a single, silent ache.
Hours passed, and the cold sank into him, as if it had seeped into his very bones. He shivered violently, burying his face in his hands for a moment before lifting it again, determined to continue speaking.
He spoke softly, telling Jerelr about his day, the events that had passed, and the small victories and frustrations he'd experienced.
He talked until the clock struck midnight, and when the time came, he whispered,
"Merry Christmas," his words shaking violently in the cold.
He gently retrieved the print-out, rising to his feet with every ounce of strength he had, trying to steady his trembling body, he bowed his head, offering a small, shivering smile.
"Goodnight… Je… Jerelr." His voice cracked, each word trembling as his lips shook from the biting cold.
"I… I still love you, just the same, even though you're gone. I'm sorry… for leaving you here, alone, in the coldest night."
He began to move forward, inch by inch, as though each step carried the heaviness of his sorrow and the cold of the night into his bones.
The walk home was brutal. The cold bit through his layers, numbing his feet until he could barely feel them, but he endured, driven by determination. When he finally arrived, he sank into the warmth of the fire where his parents were sitting.
His mother's eyes widened when she saw him, noticing the snow clinging to his hat and coat.
"Where have you been?" she asked, concern and curiosity threading her voice.
"I… just watched the snow falling outside," he replied casually.
She pressed further. "I asked Heryl to look for you. You weren't at home."
Caught, Egemed laughed and shrugged. "I went to meet some… chick outside," he joked.
His mother froze. "What! You have a girlfriend now?"
He didn't answer, only laughed again, letting the joke deflect their questions.
Inside, he thought: if he told them the truth — that he had spent Christmas at Jerelr's grave — they would surely scold him, call him an idiot, or think him possessed. He understood that no ordinary person could have dared what he did, visiting a grave alone in the dead of night.
And yet, for Egemed, the cold and isolation were worth it. Jerelr's memory, and the quiet joy of sharing their success with him, was warmth no fire could ever match.