The earth fell heavy over the coffin, each shovelful sounded like a verdict. Cold, final, and heartbreaking.
Nathaniel stood at the head of the grave, unmoving, his silver hair catching the dim afternoon light like frost that refused to melt. The wind whispered through the gathered mourners, tugging at veils and cloaks, carrying the faint scent of incense and damp soil.
Queen Juliet Aldos was being laid to rest, and for the first time in years, the kingdom held its breath. Nathan made sure of that.
Every banner was lowered. Every bell tolled. Every noble who had ever whispered her name now stood dressed in black, their voices silenced under the weight of ceremony. Even the skies seemed to mourn, draped in a dull gray that swallowed the sun whole.
Nathaniel did not cry, he did not tremble. But somewhere deep beneath that stillness, something archaic stirred… something that did not mourn her as a mother, but acknowledged her as a chapter that had ended.
