Final Rest
Ellen arranged the burial next to his mother. Simple oak casket gleamed under gray skies. Family plot path bloomed wildflowers defiant. Town gathered somber—reporters flashed discreet, police flanked gravel. Blackthorn stones watched eternal. Luke stayed unseen. Chill brushed Ellen's hand—presence sure. History professor spoke first. Microphone crackled wind. "Records show Lorian Blackthorn was a great man and very loved. He was going places, but he was taken too soon." Applause rippled soft. Applause faded to sniffles. Greta Voss stepped forward next. Sharp bob nodded Ellen warm. "My family shared stories through the years about Lorian Blackthorn. Harlan trusted him. No bad blood. Curse whispers linger, but justice honors now." Murmurs agreed. She squeezed Ellen's arm. "Strength." Crow
- Writer
