The burial ground felt frozen in time, with only the soft rustling of wind through the trees breaking the heavy silence. Atticus stood beside Magnus, his heart aching with the weight of Magnus's story.
"She said to tell you that it's not your fault."
The stillness that followed was suffocating, almost unbearable. Magnus didn't move, but a subtle shift in his expression revealed how deeply Freya's words had affected him.
His weathered face softened as a smile tugged at his lips, filled with both sorrow and the tiniest hint of warmth.
"That's just like her," he finally murmured, his voice low and quiet, unlike the powerful man he was known to be.
Atticus managed a small smile in return. "Yeah."
They stood in silence once more, neither rushing to speak. It was a rare moment of peace, one they both completely embraced. After this, only battles awaited.
