The city streets were alive with the usual bustle merchants calling out their prices, children weaving through the crowd, and the scent of baked bread mingling with the sharp tang of iron from the blacksmith's forge. Rayan moved through it all with his usual measured pace, eyes scanning the busy thoroughfare as he made his way toward the restaurant.
But then, a snippet of conversation carried over the noise, sharp and unexpected.
"Did you hear? Lord Aelric Sunreign passed away last night…"
Rayan froze mid-step. The words hit him like a hammer. His chest tightened, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment. He crumpled slightly, gripping the edge of a nearby stall for support, his mind racing.
Lord Aelric… my grandfather… dead?
Questions flooded him all at once. When? How? Why didn't anyone tell me? They know where I live… they could have sent someone… Why didn't they?
His legs felt heavy, but he forced himself to keep moving. Each step was a struggle against the swirling storm of thoughts inside his head. By the time he reached the restaurant, his mind was a chaotic whirlwind of grief, regret, and frustration.
He entered silently, the familiar aroma of cooked food failing to calm him. The owner looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Rayan? You okay?"
He shook his head, gripping the counter. "I… I need to leave. I need permission to go out for a while."
The owner studied him carefully. "For work or…?"
"No. Personal," Rayan replied shortly, voice tight with emotion. "I'll return soon."
With that, he left the restaurant without another word. His strides were purposeful now, each step fueled by a mixture of grief and determination. He made his way toward the Sunreign family cemetery, a solemn place just outside the city walls, hidden behind tall hedges and wrought-iron gates.
The gates were unlocked, as if anticipating visitors. Rayan stepped through quietly, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. He walked among the rows of tombstones, eyes scanning for the familiar carved stone that marked his grandfather's resting place.
There it was tall, dignified, with his grandfather's name etched clearly, the letters catching the sunlight. Rayan stopped in front of it, his breath shallow. The words he had longed to hear again were gone, replaced by cold stone.
He sank to his knees before the grave, hands resting lightly on the weathered surface. Silence surrounded him. No one walked the paths here, no voices interrupted his thoughts. He was alone, allowed this private moment to grieve and reflect.
"Grandfather…" His voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of emotion. Memories flooded back his grandfather kneeling beside him when he was ten, offering a wooden sword and words of encouragement. 'Even if your Crest never shines, you can still learn how to stand tall.'
Those words had always been a lifeline, a rare glimmer of warmth in a world that often seemed cold and cruel. And now… he was gone.
Rayan closed his eyes, letting the grief wash over him, mingled with anger. Why didn't they tell me? Did they think I shouldn't know? Or were they afraid I would come here?
The wind rustled through the trees, whispering in a way that felt almost like understanding. He clenched his fists, straightened his back, and took a deep breath.
I can't change what happened. I can't bring him back. But I can honor him. I will… I will stand tall, just like you taught me, Grandfather.
Minutes passed or maybe hours. Time seemed to stretch in the quiet of the graveyard. Finally, Rayan rose, brushing gravel from his knees. He looked once more at the gravestone, committing the memory to his heart.
Then, without turning back, he left the cemetery. The streets of the city welcomed him again, bustling and indifferent, as if the world moved on while he carried a weight few could understand.
By the time he returned to the restaurant, the sun had begun its descent, painting the city in shades of orange and gold. He entered quietly, nodded at the owner, and resumed his duties, but his mind was elsewhere haunted by the loss, yet sharpened by resolve.
That night, as he lay on the narrow cot in his small room, Rayan stared at the ceiling. He thought of his grandfather, of the lessons imparted long ago, and of the path ahead. One thing was clear he could not rely on anyone else. He would have to carve his own destiny, protect what he had, and rise stronger than ever.