Chapter 76

Removing his hand from my shoulder, I looked at Andrew and nodded. Relief washed over his face as he glanced back at me. Without wasting any time, I turned around and teleported back to the estate, appearing near my father's room.

"Father," I called out softly as I stood just behind the fiery wall that blocked my path. Though I had the power to teleport through it, I respected my father's wishes. He didn't want me to witness the gruesome scene on the other side.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, a tinge of regret in my voice, ensuring that my words were audible enough for him to hear. "They were coming for me, and my family got hurt. If you need to blame someone, blame me." With those words, I closed my eyes, waiting for his response.

"What?" My father's voice broke the silence, and I wondered what he meant. Was he angry with me, or was he simply baffled by the idea that it could be my fault?

"Are you saying this is your fault?" My father's footsteps drew closer to the firewall, his tone filled with sympathy. "This is not your fault, my son."

"Now, tell me everything you know." As my father spoke, the firewall dissolved, revealing him standing there, covered in blood. Behind him lay my mother, peacefully in an eternal slumber.

"I'll tell you everything."

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A week had passed since the tragedy that shook the kingdom. News of the incident spread like wildfire, igniting discussions of civil war across the land. Outrage simmered among the people of the southern region as the news reached them, leading to demonstrations and an influx of enlistments in the following days. Displays of solidarity emerged, with paintings of my mother adorning the walls of every city in the south.

A few days after my mother's death, a letter arrived from my master. She informed me that she would be attending the funeral, which was scheduled for today. Many would gather, and the city I once cherished would stand outside the estate in solemn silence as we laid my mother to rest.

I found myself in my room, changing into appropriate attire for the funeral. Looking out the window, I noticed rain pouring from the darkened sky, obscuring the sun. Opening the door, I encountered Ezekiel standing in the doorway. He had spent the previous night rushing from his room to his fiancée's, where he remained, steadfastly protecting her until dawn.

Ezekiel's gaze held a mix of pity and empathy as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'll help you," he offered, his words carrying a depth of meaning. I nodded in acknowledgment and proceeded past him, moving toward the location of the funeral. I could sense his unwavering stare following my every step.

I stepped out of the estate and found myself standing in a somber cemetery, the final resting place of the esteemed De Clare bloodline. Rows upon rows of weathered tombstones marked the graves of past heads and members of the family. The air hung heavy with a sense of reverence and melancholy, amplified by the gentle patter of raindrops that whispered their mournful melody.

As I made my way along the winding path, I could see a gathering of people in the distance, their figures huddled around a single casket adorned with delicate flowers. Among them stood my father, his countenance etched with grief, accompanied by members of the lower De Clare family and several nobles paying their respects.

The cemetery itself was a solemn sanctuary, with towering oak trees reaching towards the heavens, their branches extending like guardian sentinels. Muted rays of sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting a dappled glow upon the moss-covered gravestones, each one a testament to the legacy of the De Clare lineage. Nature had claimed this sacred ground, intertwining ivy and wildflowers, as if offering a tender embrace to those who lay at eternal rest.

The atmosphere resonated with a quietude that carried the weight of countless memories and stories. The scent of damp earth mingled with the delicate fragrance of roses, carried on the moist breeze. A sense of timelessness prevailed, as if the spirits of the departed whispered their tales amidst the rustling leaves and the distant tolling of a distant church bell.

The rain continued to fall, casting a misty veil over the scene, adding an ethereal touch to the poignant gathering. It served as both a mournful lament and a cleansing shower, washing away the sorrow and allowing a sliver of hope to seep into the hearts of those in attendance.

With each step, my heart grew heavier, knowing that within the confines of the casket lay the vessel that once held the love and wisdom of my mother. As I drew nearer, the sound of hushed whispers and gentle sobs reached my ears, a chorus of grief that echoed through the hallowed grounds.

In the solemn ambiance of this sacred place, I prepared myself to bid farewell to my mother, offering my final respects. Before leaving, I leaned in and whispered, "I'm sorry," acknowledging the pain and loss that enveloped me. Taking a seat, I found myself next to a familiar figure. It was my master, who had come to pay her respects.

"Lucas, I'm sorry for your loss," she spoke softly, her gaze lowered. "No child of your age should have to endure such a terrible tragedy."

"I'm fine, Master," I replied, looking straight ahead at the casket. There were no tears or sudden outpouring of emotions from me, which seemed to catch the attention of the attendants. I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking—did they see me as a horrible son or a broken one? Their sympathetic gazes and bewildered expressions were not lost on me.

But among the sea of sympathetic onlookers, one pair of eyes pierced through, capturing my attention. There she stood, adorned in a beautiful black dress, her golden eyes shimmering with a unique depth of empathy. Adeline Vigar, my betrothed, her silver hair dancing in the wind, held my gaze steadily. Her sympathy extended beyond what the others displayed; it carried a profound understanding that resonated within me.

For a brief moment, our eyes locked, silently exchanging a multitude of unspoken emotions. But as quickly as the connection formed, I turned my attention back to the casket, where my father now sat beside me.

As the priest stepped forward, a solemn hush fell over the gathered mourners. His voice resonated with a mixture of sorrow and hope as he began to recite prayers of farewell and remembrance. His words carried the weight of the collective grief, offering solace to those in need.

Once the priest concluded his final benediction, the mourners, unified in their grief, watched as the casket was gently lowered into the waiting earth. The rain continued to fall, mingling with the tears that cascaded down the attendants cheeks, as if nature itself wept for our loss.