The rain had been falling since morning, a thin, persistent drizzle that turned the earth to slick mud and muted the color of everything it touched.
Black umbrellas lined the cemetery like a regiment of mourning soldiers, their edges trembling under the weight of water. It was as if the world itself had been stripped of hue only grey, and darker grey, and the glint of wet stone remained.
He stood among them those faces he had seen a thousand times but had never truly known. Men in long black coats, their lapels heavy with rain, and women in veils that fluttered faintly against their cheeks.
He stood at the back of the crowd, close enough to see the polished mahogany of the casket but far enough. From where he was, the umbrellas looked like a flock of ravens all black, all trembling slightly under the droplets.
They had come for his sister, Seraphina Valemar, known for many things the most beautiful lady in the capital, eldest daughter of Duke Alaric and Duchess Evelyne of House Valemar.
And finally the empress.
She had been the perfect daughter of the ducal line black hair like silk ink, eyes of amethyst that caught the lamplight as if lit from within. Even now, people spoke her name with that blend of admiration and envy reserved for the beautiful dead.
He watched the priest raise his hand, his voice barely rising above the rain. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"
The words fell flat. No one truly listened.
At the front, the Duke stood unmoving, his gloved hand resting lightly on his cane. His head bowed. He was the image of noble dignity, tall, perfectly composed, black hair untouched by grey despite his age. His violet eyes, the hallmark of their house, but at this moment his shaking hands betrayed his grief.
Beside him stood the Duchess Evelyne, her veil pulled low, the faint shimmer of tears glinting beneath it. Her eyes were red puffy, rimmed with grief but she held herself with poise.
He had never been close enough to her to see her cry before.
She had raised Seraphina with care, with pride her first child. And now, though she stood straight and silent, her eyes betrayed the tremor of loss. He could not imagine what it was to lose a daughter like Seraphina.
But he also knew what it was to lose a beloved.
Arien glanced at the rows of mourners What struck him wasn't who was here, but who wasn't.
None of his brothers stood among them.
Rowan Thalric Valemar, the eldest son, was stationed at the northern border as the Empire's shield against the demonic beasts that roamed the wastelands. Even if he had wanted to come, he couldn't. The moment he left, hundreds of soldiers and thousands of people who lives in border towns would die.
Alistair Corvane Valemar, the second son, was far beyond the seas, serving as a diplomatic envoy in Syltharion kingdom. Even if he wanted too and Arien knew he would have, there was simply no way to return in time. A journey that took months could not be undone in days. By the time he reached the capital, Serafina would already be resting beneath the soil.
Cassian Thoren Valemar, the youngest of the three, hadn't left his room since the day Serafina died. The servants whispered that his tears hadn't stopped, that his food went untouched.
So here it was their sister's funeral. And of all her brothers, he, the one they refused to acknowledge, stood at her side.
Life, he thought, had a cruel sense of humor.
When Seraphina was alive, she had always tried to pull him into their circle, her hand warm on his shoulder, her voice firm when she defended him in front of them. But her efforts had only made their hate deeper. Rowan's indifferent glances, Alastair's polite silence, Cassian's sharp insults.
And yet, now, under this colorless sky, they were the ones missing and he, the ghost of their household, stood.
He lowered his gaze again to the casket and whispered under his breath.
"Looks like it's just me this time, Sister."
A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles.
"The Emperor," someone whispered.
And like the rain itself, the world seemed to still.
He came, Emperor Caelus Cyrus Aurellion, the Sun Blooded Ruler of the Empire of Aurellion. His golden hair gleamed even under the dull sky, catching what little light there was. His coat was dark, lined with faint threads of gold subtle, he always restrained himself with dignity befitting a Ruler, but even him couldn't contain the sadness and loss that took over him with death of his lover, wife, and empress.
But it was his eyes that silenced the crowd. Those eyes the unmistakable gold of the Aurellion bloodline that normally seemed to hold their own light, looks dim today as if the sun lost it moon .
He held a small hand on his own.
The boy Prince Lucien Aurellion had his father's golden hair and eyes like molten sunlight dulled by tears. His little face was pale, trembling. His lips moved, and I could not hear his voice at first.
"Mother."
The word carried on the rain, small and fragile.
He stumbled forward a step before the Emperor steadied him, his large hand resting gently on the boy's shoulder. The nobles around them looked away, Some dabbed at their own eyes, though their tears seemed far too conveniently timed.
The empress Seraphina had been beloved by the royal court. Rumor whispered that she might have been with child when she died, her second.
I watched as my nephew pressed his face into his father's coat, sobbing silently. I wanted to move to comfort him somehow but I remained still. I had no right to stand near a prince.
The priest continued, his monotone voice blending into the rain.
Somewhere in the crowd, a woman coughed delicately. Someone else sighed. The earth around the grave had already softened; it smelled of dirt and roses.
...
I shifted slightly, my coat heavy with water. My reflection in the puddle near my boots stared back at me, long silver-white hair plastered to my forehead, violet eyes dimmed by shadow.
I looked like a ghost among them.
My hair the color of frost was the single thing that marked me as different. It didn't matter how much the nobles talked about my position as illegitimate child, my eyes proved I was a Valemar.
Even though My father never cared about me but He had loved a man once, an open secret everyone knew. They called him Lord Silvain when I heard their whispers, a man with hair white as snow and a smile that made even the icy Duke give in.
When he died, the Duke emotion died with him. Then he acted as if Silvain was a distant dream. And everything that Silvain owned or linked to him was looked in a room as if he never existed.
I had been four, perhaps five, when Silvain died. I do not remember his face, only the absence that followed the echo of a name erased from the halls.
The Duchess had not banished me from the estate, she simply never acknowledged I was there. There was never a love between her and the Duke, their marriage was arranged like the rest of noble families.
I suppose neglect is the most polite form of hatred.
The priest's voice broke through my thoughts. "....her soul to the eternal light."
The chains creaked as they lowered Seraphina's casket into the grave.
Mud splattered across boots. The sound was dull and final.
The Duchess's hands tightened slightly around her handkerchief. The Duke inclined his head,The Emperor bowed his head. The Prince began to cry again.
I stared at the descending casket ,that dark shape swallowing what little color remained in the world.
Seraphina was a sweet soul. On my birthdays she brought me books, and the last gift I received from her was a small silver bookmark shaped like a crescent moon.
I still had it, hidden in the drawer of my desk.
Now she is gone.
When the casket touched the bottom of the grave,the priest murmured a final prayer. The nobles began to shift, adjusting gloves and umbrellas, ready to return to their carriages and comfortable warm Estate's.
One by one, the mourners departed. The Duke offered a hand to his wife, she took it without a word. They passed me by, and though I bowed my head, neither spoke.
When the last umbrella disappeared down the path, the rain had gentled to a drizzle, the sound of droplets on leaves and stone.
I thought of her laughter echoing through the livingroom, of her fingers brushing my cheek when she tagged my hair behind my ear.
I looked at the grave one last time. The earth was dark, soft, ready to swallow everything.
If the dead could see us, she would know I came.
She would know I stood in the rain for her.
She would know I was still here.
The Emperor turned slightly, his golden eyes lifting from the grave and, for the briefest instant, they met mine.
as if his eyes could see through the surface of things, straight into whatever I was trying to hide. There was something in them, though I could not name what. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't a threat. It was… I don't know...
My breath caught For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between us the falling rain, the hush of it, and the weight of those eyes like sunlight caught behind glass. Then he looked away, breaking the thread.
and the world dimmed again,It lasted only a second, but it was enough.His eyes were the color of dawn, brilliant, distant, merciless yet somehow fragile.
He bent down and murmured something to the small prince beside him. Prince Lucien nodded faintly, still trembling, and the Emperor gestured toward a waiting woman in a dark cloak. She took the child's hand and led him back toward the carriages, her steps careful on the slick ground. The boy turned once, looking over his shoulder, but his father did not move.
Soon the sound of boots, carriages, and low conversation faded.
Only two of us remained.
The Emperor and I.
He stood at the edge of the grave, hands clasped behind his back, his hair bright even beneath the dim sky. I stood a few paces behind him, not daring to move or speak. The silence between us wasn't awkward. It was immense like the space between two distant shores.
My gaze drifted to the casket, now half covered in damp soil. My sister would have hated this sorrow. She'd always said that grief, if left untended, grows like ivy choking everything it touches. She would have wanted light, laughter, not this grayness that pressed on every heart.
I hoped she knew I remembered that.
I hoped she knew I was trying.
A voice broke the silence, soft and uncertain. "young master?"
I turned. A young footman bowed quickly, rain dripping from the brim of his hat. "His Grace requests that you return to the carriage."
I hesitated, glancing back toward the Emperor. he was still staring at the grave, his shoulders drawn slightly forward as if bearing a weight he couldn't shake away.he seemed strangely human then just a man standing before the grave of someone he had loved.
"Of course," I said quietly.
The footman nodded and retreated down the path.
Then I looked at the grave for the last time.The stone was already set, carved with letters that would outlast all of us
Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Seraphina Valemar Aurellion.
She had been the perfect Empress beloved by the people, merciful, wise. The world would remember her as the light of Aurellion, the moon that gentled even the harshest storms and stood beside the sun.
But to me… she was simply my sister.
The only one who ever smiled at me.
The only one who ever saw me.
And now my moon had set, and all that remained was darkness