Thud. Thud. The sound of someone banging on the door echoed through the small, silent house.
Edward lay motionless on the wooden floor, unconscious from the events of the night before.
Thud. Thud.
"Edward! Open the door, it's me, Delver!" The voice called from outside, louder and more desperate.
Edward stirred faintly, his eyelids flickering open. His vision blurred, and the first thing he saw was his grandmother lying on the bed. From his position on the floor, he was facing her feet, wrapped snugly in the blanket that covered her small frame.
"Ugh... Mr. Delver," Edward muttered groggily, his head still heavy. Mustering his strength, he sat up slowly, his movements sluggish.
The memories of last night hit him like a tidal wave. His heart sank as realization dawned. "It wasn't a dream," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. A single tear slid down his nose and fell to the floor. "Grandma," he whispered, his voice breaking.
Thud. Thud.
"Edward, please open the door!" Mr. Delver's voice came again, more insistent than before.
Without a word, Edward pushed himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead as he trudged to the door, his face blank and emotionless. He didn't dare look at his grandmother's face, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.
The sunlight streaming through the cracks in the window painted the room in hues of orange, marking the day's slow descent into evening. Edward opened the door, and the chill of the outside air swept in.
"Why weren't you opening the door? I was wo—" Mr. Delver stopped mid-sentence. His words faltered as his eyes took in Edward's expression—a hollow, lifeless gaze on the face of a 12-year-old boy who had just experienced something terrible.
Mr. Delver peeked past Edward into the dimly lit room, his stomach sinking as his worst fear was confirmed. Agatha lay motionless on the bed, wrapped in her blanket.
Edward walked back into the house silently and sank down near Agatha's bed. His empty gaze locked onto her feet, the only part of her visible from where he sat. He didn't move, didn't blink.
Mr. Delver entered cautiously, his voice filling the space as he spoke, trying to reach the boy. "Edward... Edward!" he called out, raising his voice slightly each time.
"Edward."
This time, the boy blinked. Slowly, he shifted his focus to Mr. Delver, but his face remained void of expression.
"I've taken care of everything," Mr. Delver said gently. "The funeral will be held tomorrow morning."
Edward didn't respond, his eyes drifting back to his grandmother's feet. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Night had fallen by the time Mr. Delver broke the silence again.
"I'm sorry, Edward," he said, his voice heavy with guilt. "I just saw her yesterday. She seemed fine."
Edward thought to himself, I've been unconscious for half a day...
"It was tetanus," Mr. Delver continued. "There wasn't anything we could have done... I'm so sorry."
Tetanus? Edward's thoughts spiraled. Did she get it while working for the tailor? How could something so easily curable back on Earth claim her life here?
Why didn't we have doctors? Why were healers so far out of reach for people like us?
His chest tightened as guilt and frustration consumed him. If I had known how to use mana better... if I wasn't so useless... could I have saved her?
"Edward." Mr. Delver's soft voice broke through his thoughts. He crouched down to meet the boy's eyes.
"I know this is hard for you," he said gently. "She was your only family. You loved her, and she loved you. But because of that love, I know you want to send her off in a way that honors her. She deserves a proper funeral, Edward. I need you to be there. Do you understand?"
Edward's lips trembled as he nodded slightly. "Yes," he whispered, barely audible.
"Edward, should we bury Ms. Agatha in the cemetery, or is there someplace else you'd prefer?"
After a moment of silence, Edward whispered, "The cave."
That night, Mr. Delver stayed with Edward and Agatha. Most of the hours passed in silence. Occasionally, Mr. Delver spoke about Agatha's strength, her kindness, and the sacrifices she had made. He shared stories of how she had touched the lives of so many in the slum.
As dawn broke, Mr. Delver returned with four others, carrying shovels, ropes, and a wooden casket.
"Edward, go with them to prepare the burial site. We'll bring Ms. Agatha there," Mr. Delver said gently.
Edward nodded but turned to the trunk in the corner of the room. He opened it and rummaged through its contents until he found a ragged white bedsheet. Though worn and torn, the cloth was of fine quality.
"Wrap Grandma in this," Edward said quietly. "It's special to us." His voice trembled as he held the cloth, memories flooding back.
It was the same bedsheet Agatha had used to tie little Edmund to her back when they fled their home all those years ago. The memory of her strength in that moment hit Edward like a wave, and he passed the sheet to Mr. Delver with shaking hands.
Mr. Delver took the sheet with care. "We will," he promised.
Edward left with two men to the cave. Inside, he pointed to a secluded corner. "Here," he said softly.
The men began digging in silence. Edward knelt beside them and started clearing dirt with his hands.
"You don't have to do this," one of the men said gently.
Edward shook his head. "I want to. It's the least I can do for her."
The burial site was finally ready after hours of quiet, somber work. Edward wiped the dirt off his hands and trudged toward the entrance of the forest to wait for the others.
To his surprise, when he arrived, nearly the entire village had gathered. The slum's residents, despite their hardships, had come to pay their respects to Agatha. Even Jin and Shane were there, each holding flowers.
Edward didn't know how to react. His head tilted downward as he shuffled toward Mr. Delver. "The grave is ready," he said softly, his voice barely audible.
Mr. Delver nodded and gently patted Edward's head.
No one in the crowd spoke as the casket was brought forward. It had no lid yet; Jin and Shane carried the lid separately, their youthful faces set with determination. Though others had offered to help, the boys had insisted. Agatha had treated them like family, often feeding and caring for them as if they were her own grandchildren.
When the procession reached the cave, the casket was placed beside the burial site Edward had helped dig. The lid was propped up against its side.
Mr. Delver turned to Edward and said softly, "You chose a good place for her."
Edward didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Mr. Delver then addressed the gathered villagers. "If anyone wishes to say a few words to Agatha, now is the time."
One by one, the villagers stepped forward, placing flowers near Agatha's body and speaking their heartfelt thanks.
"Thank you for giving us warmth in this cold slum, not only by providing us firewood but also with your heart," said one.
"Thank you for mending our clothes every time you saw a tear or a hole, without ever asking for anything in return," said another.
Even Jin and Shane approached the grave, their voices trembling as they spoke.
"Thank you for giving us delicious meals whenever we came to play with Edward. We'll miss your cooking," Jin said, his hands clutching the flowers tightly.
"Thank you for caring for us like your own grandson. We'll never forget how you reprimanded us whenever we misbehaved," Shane added, tears welling in his eyes.
The word most spoken was "Thank you." Agatha's selflessness had touched every life in the slum. Her unwavering kindness and determination had left an indelible mark.
The flowers placed around her formed a beautiful, colorful wreath—a rare sight in the slum. Flowers were a luxury, often too expensive to obtain, especially in such a harsh climate. But every villager had managed to bring at least one, a testament to the deep respect and love they held for Agatha.
At last, only Edward and Mr. Delver remained. Mr. Delver gestured to Jin, who approached with two flowers: one red and one white.
The red flower was handed to Mr. Delver, while the white—the rarest and most precious—was given to Edward.
Edward realized that Mr. Delver had helped the villagers gather the flowers, quietly arranging for the slum to come together for this moment.
Mr. Delver stepped forward, placing the red flower gently on Agatha's chest. "Thank you to the strongest person I knew," he said solemnly. "You taught me what self-respect truly means."
He then turned to Edward. The boy's head was still bowed, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.
"If you don't say anything now, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Mr. Delver said softly. "It's your choice—speak, or close the lid."
Edward stepped forward, the white flower trembling in his hand. He knelt by the casket and placed the flower on Agatha's chest, right next to the red one.
"Thank you, Grandma," he whispered, his voice cracking.
For the first time, he forced himself to look at her face. Her wrinkles seemed deeper, her features smaller than he remembered, but her expression was serene, as though she had found peace at last.
Edward's throat tightened, his chest heaved, and tears spilled freely down his face. "Thank you, Grandma... for keeping me safe," he said, his voice barely audible.
He clenched his fists, fighting to suppress the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. The fear of mana poisoning loomed in his mind, but the emotions were too strong to hold back entirely. A single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another.
With trembling hands, Edward helped Mr. Delver close the casket. Together, they used ropes to lower it gently into the ground.
The villagers silently helped fill the grave, packing the soil with care. Finally, a wooden plank was placed at the head, engraved with an epitaph that Mr. Delver had arranged:
"Agatha, The Sun of the Cold Slums."