The end of it all.

The royal grounds were quiet, but it was not the comforting silence of peace. It was a heavy, oppressive stillness, broken only by the shuffling of workers preparing the burial site for Arian, Nila, and Cyrus. The air smelled of fire, earth and rain, though no storm had come.

Darius stood by the gravesite, his hands clenched at his sides, watching as the workers dug one large grave, to bury all three of them together.

His face was unreadable, but his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the torrent of emotions he held in. He hadn't slept in days, and the weight of the kingdom now rested heavily on his shoulders.

Laila approached, holding a small bundle in her hands. It was Arian's favourite toy sword, one he had insisted on carrying around wherever he went. She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Your Grace… should this go with him?" Her voice cracked as she held up the sword, tears streaming silently down her face.