Chapter 144. Rage and Revival
After eliminating the hidden assassins with ease, Igaris did not rush. He moved slowly, each step deliberate, as he made his way toward the outer section of the estate. There, nestled in a quiet grove surrounded by moss-covered stone walls and withered lanterns, lay the ancestral graveyard of the Vance family.
It was a sacred place. The resting ground of generations past. His father. His mother. His grandparents. Dozens of ancestors who once upheld the dignity of their name. And there, at the heart of it all, was the grave of his older brother, Izroth.
The brother who had once carried the responsibility of their family’s hope. The prodigy. The protector. The one who died too soon.
Igaris came to a halt before the graves. A soft breeze stirred the dying leaves around his feet. The scent of old soil and blooming nightflowers lingered in the air, mingling with the weight of memory. His gaze wandered from tomb to tomb, but it lingered longest on the one marked by a blackened obsidian plaque. The one bearing Izroth’s name.
He stood before it in silence.
Memories, raw and uninvited, returned. The warmth of his mother’s embrace. His father’s hand resting proudly on his shoulder. His brother’s calm yet firm voice calling his name in training. Scenes from a life long past, untouched by bloodshed and betrayal.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. He did not notice it fall.
Another followed, cutting a trail down his cheek before he reached up and wiped it away.
"No. I didn’t come here to mourn," he muttered quietly, voice barely above the breeze.
He looked ahead with newfound determination.
"I came here to bring you back."