Chapter 43: Aleyn
The atmosphere was sombre as the crowd of hundreds stood outside, clad in black robes. A deep silence might have been more appropriate for the occasion, but nobody had let the crickets know to stop chirping, or the birds to avoid carelessly flying over the garden.
Perhaps, the sky should have looked gloomier too, but Remior’s sun still shone brightly, oblivious to the bitter sobs of the grieving mother, and the occasional crackles of firewood snapping in the pyre.
SIGH
Archibald let out a turbid breath, held inside for a touch too long, as he watched Seryna – his daughter-in-law – scatter her son’s ashes in the wind. Fortunately, Aballach was not here to mourn the boy, having died in the tragedy years ago, along with the other Red-borns.
Truth be told, Archibald had a personal preference for burials over cremations. The idea of having a grave to visit – a way to keep the deceased always close – just sounded better. In fact, many of the younger families still performed them to this day.
Sadly, this wasn’t an option for the older ones, like the Avalon House, who had bid farewell to thousands of members over their millennia-long history. If they buried everyone, their mansion would be little more than an island amidst a sea of graves by now.
No, the Avalons wouldn’t get a grave… They’d all have to settle for a few words in a book, listing their relationships and achievements. The Yellow-borns who lived the longest would get a full page. Some – like Archibald himself – might even get a couple. As for the Red-borns and Orange-borns who died young… they’d have to make do with a paragraph.
‘Was I wrong?’
It was precisely because things like this kept happening that he had maintained his distance from the family. He had to be a leader! Could he afford to break down every time he lost somebody?