The air was thick with mist, the kind that clung to the skin and muffled even the faintest of sounds. The valley was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of the grass swaying under a gentle, mournful breeze. At the heart of the valley stood a lone grave, marked by a weathered stone slab, its carvings nearly eroded by the passage of time.
Aether's ethereal form emerged from the fog, a faint, luminous silhouette of shifting mana, its shape wavering like the reflection on disturbed water. The faint glow it emitted pushed back the mist as it approached the grave, its movements slow and deliberate.
Stopping a few paces from the stone, Aether's energy dimmed, as if weighed down by the emotions coursing through it. A long silence stretched, the kind born not of awkwardness, but of reverence.
"Father…" Aether's voice resonated softly, an otherworldly timbre laced with melancholy. "It has been centuries, and yet your presence lingers... even in absence."
