Chapter 16:
The day of Itzel's funeral dawned beneath relentless rain, a gray curtain that seemed to grieve alongside the world. The sky, complicit in sorrow, bent over the cemetery as if trying to shroud the weight of loss beneath its cloak.
Figures dressed in black clustered around the grave, a sea of mournful faces held in silence. Among them, Sanathiel stood apart, watching with apparent indifference. Yet within him stirred a faint tremor: Itzel, with her quiet gentleness, had been one of the few lights in a corrupted world. Her absence left a void that not even vengeance could fill.
In the distance, members of the Verona House discreetly transported Itzel's body to deliver it to the Community of Thirteen. Among the attendees, Arceo—who had assumed Sanathiel's public role—observed the process with an unreadable expression. Since the true Sanathiel had been silenced, Arceo had been trained to take his place. The Verona House could not afford to show weakness.
"Arcangel, what's done is done. Stop wearing that face of mourning," murmured Risas, lighting a lamp as if death were nothing but a trivial disruption. "If you keep this up, you'll raise suspicion about what we did to Sanathiel."
Arcangel looked at him, frustration sharp in his eyes."And what do you suggest, brother?"
"Accept the truth: no one is indispensable. Not even you." Risas's smile carried scars deeper than words.
The tension between them was unbearable. Arcangel, overwhelmed by a sudden rage, hurled a vase to the floor; it shattered into jagged teeth."You don't understand, Risas. You will only understand if one day you see my secret with your own eyes."
For once, sarcasm faded from his brother's face. Risas placed a steady hand on his shoulder."Brother, no matter what your secret is, I'll always stand with you."
Arcangel lowered his gaze, a flicker of relief crossing his eyes."Perhaps one day I'll be ready to tell you."
They embraced briefly, yet sincerely—a spark of light flickering in the gloom.
The rain would not stop. It soaked the earth, washing away flowers on the freshly dug grave as though trying to erase the tragedy itself.
"Do you think what we did was right?" Risas finally asked.
"What's done is written," Arcangel answered, his gaze lost on the horizon. "It is a burden we must carry."
With one last glance at Itzel's grave, the brothers departed beneath the rain, knowing the choices made would haunt them forever.
Flashback
"Stop! Don't take another step." Iraní's voice cracked like thunder. "If you cross that fence, you'll never be accepted as men, nor as beasts. You'll be pariahs, devouring each other in solitude. That will be your fate."
Arcangel, proud as ever, stepped forward without looking back. Risas followed, but Iraní's words carved themselves into his memory like an unending echo.
Arcangel returned from the memory, walking beside his brother beneath the rain. Not belonging anywhere made him feel lost, a shadow caught between worlds.
He whispered to himself:"What's done… is already written."
Risas remained silent, sensing the weight his brother bore. Some wounds could not be healed—only accompanied.