Varian pov
I roll the rubber ball around my hand, looking at it's worn surface.
The once verdant colour has faded into a sullen juniper, matching my mood.
I toss it at the headstone. It rebounds off the weather beaten surface with a satisfying pocking sound, right back into my hands.
"It's finally happening, brother," I mumble, tossing the ball at him again. "We'll bring you home soon."
I like to imagine he's catching it like he did when we were boys. Instead he's nothing more than a memory, a faded gravestone over an empty plot.
My parents insisted on this before they died, accepting my brothers death rather than fighting to find answers on what happened to him.
No one comes down here anymore. The manor stands proud at the top of the hill, but down here in the valley, there is noth
