After his intense audience with the queen, Emery made his way to the royal burial grounds. The sky mirrored his turmoil, dark clouds gathering as heavy rain began to fall, drenching him as he walked with resolute steps. Each drop felt like a reminder of his failures, of the pain and loss that had brought him to this moment.
He arrived at Silva's grave, a solemn monument amidst the lush, rain-soaked garden. In his hand, he held a small, ornate cube—given to him by the queen—a recording of Silva.
With a deep breath, he activated it. A holographic image of Silva appeared before him, as vibrant and beautiful as he remembered, yet a spectral presence that twisted the knife of his sorrow even deeper.
Silva was in her wedding dress. Her serene smile was contrasted with the evident strain in her eyes and the tremble in her voice, revealing the sickness she had endured.
