The newspaper eventually reaches the small village of Zepharia.
The paper still smells of fresh ink when a courier places it in front of the modest wooden house belonging to Aunt Anne. The house stands at the edge of a small field, not far from the river where she usually washes clothes.
Morning has passed. The sun rises high when Aunt Anne finally sits on the wooden chair before the dining table. Her hands are still slightly damp after washing dishes and hanging laundry. Lucy, the pale orange cat, jumps onto the table and walks slowly over the folded newspaper.
Aunt Anne gently strokes Lucy's head.
"Do not be naughty, Lucy," she murmurs softly.
She opens the newspaper.
A bold headline fills half the page:
"OLIVER HAS BEEN EXECUTED."
Her fingers stop.
Her eyes fix on that single sentence.
She does not continue reading.
The world around her seems to fade, leaving only black letters that feel too sharp to behold.
Her breath catches.
Slowly, her head lowers.
Tears fall one by one onto the paper.
Lucy, as if sensing the shift in the air, steps closer and stretches against Aunt Anne's hand, exposing her belly and purring softly. Aunt Anne embraces her with trembling arms.
"Oliver…" she whispers, almost soundlessly.
Her sob does not erupt. It remains quiet. Restrained. Like someone who has lost too often, until even grief itself has become silent.
Suddenly—
The sound of the door opening.
Creak.
Aunt Anne startles. She quickly wipes her tears with the back of her hand, then reaches for a clean cloth on the table and dries her face.
"Who is it?!" she calls, trying to sound normal.
Footsteps enter.
Light, yet firm.
She rises, her heart still unsettled, and walks toward the front room.
Several bags are dropped onto the floor.
Thud.
Thud.
Wind from the open door stirs the thin curtain. A young girl's hair flows with the breeze. Her face is pale from a long journey, yet her eyes remain warm.
Aunt Anne freezes.
"ROSE?!"
Her voice breaks.
Her hand covers her mouth in disbelief.
Rose smiles faintly, her eyes beginning to glisten.
Aunt Anne runs forward and embraces her tightly.
Lucy jumps down from the table and circles Rose's legs, purring warmly.
"Aunt has missed you so much," Aunt Anne says, her voice trembling within the embrace.
"I have missed you too. I have missed you very much," Rose replies, holding her tighter.
Aunt Anne gently pulls back to touch Rose's face. Her lips are pale. A faint sound comes from her stomach.
"You have not eaten," Aunt Anne says softly. "I will prepare breakfast. Sit down first, dear."
Rose nods and wipes her tears before walking to the table. Lucy jumps onto her lap, purring in contentment.
In the small kitchen, Aunt Anne takes out vegetables and fruit. She cuts them skillfully, though her thoughts remain unsettled. Rose's favorite soup must be prepared. The broth must be warm.
"Aunt?" Rose calls softly.
"Yes?" Aunt Anne turns.
Rose lowers her head.
"Please forgive me." She draws a heavy breath. "Brother and Father are gone. Neither of them returned home with me."
Tears fall slowly.
Aunt Anne stops cutting. She walks closer, dries her hands on a cloth, and gently wipes Rose's tears.
"My dear," she says tenderly, "I am here. You will not be alone as long as I stand beside you. Your favorite soup is almost ready. We shall eat together."
Rose nods faintly.
She rests her head on her folded arms upon the table.
The small house falls silent again, filled only with the sound of simmering broth and Lucy's purring.
---
My wound has opened again.
A quiet sigh escapes.
The pain returns like a small flame rekindled within flesh. A hand presses against the side of the abdomen, feeling the bandage growing damp.
"It hurts," I murmur.
I despise this sensation. The reminder of every battle. Every loss.
A hand slips into the coat pocket.
An old photograph is taken out.
I am small in the picture, carried in Father's arms. Mother stands beside us, smiling warmly. Father looks strong—strong as if the world itself could never take him away.
"Lumineth…" I whisper.
Father's final suggestion before death.
The place he once wished to reach. The place he claimed held the clearest light in the world. He never arrived there.
A heavy breath leaves my chest.
I will return first to the Veil in Gaelvorn.
I once thought my time would now be entirely my own. No figure from the Government remains to hunt me. They have fallen completely.
Yet the world is never truly silent.
Whatever awaits in the future—I will face it.
For now, I must treat my wound in Gaelvorn. Train Nero. Quiet my thoughts.
Then depart for Lumineth.
For Father.
For myself.
---
Time moves forward.
Morning becomes afternoon. Afternoon turns to evening. Evening descends into night.
An oil lamp is lit upon the dining table. The soup prepared earlier is reheated. Warm rice steams gently, and simple fried chicken is served—modest, yet sufficient.
Rose sits across from Aunt Anne. Lucy occupies the empty chair beside them, staring at the food with keen interest.
"Aunt," Rose says, her spoon poised for the first bite, "I will visit Olivia in a few days. Would you like to come?"
Aunt Anne smiles softly.
"Olivia remains my child, even if she followed her father. I will go with you."
Rose is about to take a bite.
The spoon halts midair.
"What is it, dear?" Aunt Anne asks.
Rose exhales heavily.
"I miss Brother and Father—"
The door opens.
Creak.
Both turn at once.
Footsteps enter.
Slow.
Heavy.
Drawing nearer.
"Who is it?" Aunt Anne asks, rising to her feet.
Several bags fall onto the floor.
Thud.
Thud.
Rose freezes.
Her face turns pale instantly.
"FATHER?!"
The figure stands at the doorway.
His face is thin.
His body is frail.
Rose steps forward slowly toward him, her body trembling.
"Father, is that you?" Her voice breaks.
The figure stares straight ahead. He smiles, and tears begin to fall.
"My child," he says, spreading both arms wide.
Rose runs into his embrace and holds him tightly.