LAST day of Count Darvan’s wake, yet Thalia could not bring herself to let go of her father’s coffin. Since returning from the Mage Tower, she had wept without pause, her grief so relentless that her eyes had swollen shut, forcing her to wear a black veil to conceal them. One by one, those who attended the burial approached in solemn silence, offering white roses and murmuring quiet prayers before departing the cemetery.
“We shall go back now,” Aston said softly as he gripped the wheelchair's handles.
“It hurts so much, brother. I grew complacent about the truth after changing the past,” Thalia murmured.
Aston stiffened and pulled the chair slightly forward. “The past?”
Thalia did not answer. In the end, Aston chose to ignore her fragmented words. When they boarded the carriage, she re
