“They’re here,” she said quietly.

  Kaiser glanced at her. “Your parents?”

  She nodded and took?a tentative step toward him. “Somehow, in all of time that has passed, I never got to say goodbye, nor did I never get to apologize.”

  Kaiser’s brow creased as he trailed her, the weight of her words settling?in. “You carried that for a long time.”

  She looked down at the ground. “Too long.”

  Kaiser noticed movement out of the corner of his eye as they continued to stroll into the cemetery. Women in deep black clothing billowed as though they were tangled in an unseen stream, and vague shapes drifted amid the tombs. They wore smooth, featureless, skull-white masks over their faces.

  “What the hell are those?” Kaiser asked in a whisper.

  Aria’s gaze lingered on one as it floated nearby. “Those are death fairies,” she mumbled, almost to herself. “They were created to speak with the dead… to keep them company so they don’t get bored.”

  Kaiser raised an eyebrow, scoffing lightly. “The dead need company now? I would have guessed they had plenty in a place like this.”

  A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes remained sad. “Maybe not. But it’s a way to make the living feel better, to think that the dead aren’t lonely.”

  Kaiser nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose everyone wants to believe their loved ones are at peace.”

  They finally arrived at?a pair of graves away from the rest. The stones were plain but engraved with care. Aria paused in front of them, her hands shaking at her sides. She knelt down, gazing at the names carved into the stone.

  Kaiser couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she seemed to see, especially for someone without eyes, but he kept quiet. He knew now was not the time to bring it up.

  “They would’ve been proud of you,” Kaiser said softly as he stepped up next to?her, not wanting to think deeper about the idea that popped into his head.

  Her voice wavered as she replied, “I don’t know. I’ve done terrible things since they… since they were taken. I’ve hurt people, Kaiser. I’ve killed. What kind of daughter would they think I’ve become?”

  Kaiser dropped?down so she could see him, his voice strong but gentle. “You survived. That’s what they would have wanted you to do. No parent would blame their child for surviving.”

  Her fingers shook against the stones as she touched them, tears rushing down her soft cheeks. “I wish I could have been stronger. I just wish I could’ve?done something — anything — to save them.”

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  “You?were a child Aria,” Kaiser said, his voice steady. “You don’t seem to realize it, but you still are.”

  Kaiser continued “And you’ve done more than most to carry on in spite of it all.” He said as his eyes sunk deeper into Aria.

  She shook her head, her sobs quiet but raw. “I just wanted them to see me grow up, to know that I became someone good. But all I’ve done is survive.”

  Kaiser leaned forward, his voice quieter?now. “Surviving doesn’t equal weakness. It makes you strong. And being here, confronting this … it’s proof of that.”

  She wiped at her tears, her breathing uneven as she tried to compose herself. “I miss them so much.”

  “I know,” Kaiser said. “But they’re still with you, in some way. They always will be, and they always have been.”

  Aria remained there for what seemed like hours, her palm resting on the gravestone as though hoping to feel some remnant of her parents. At last she rose, slowly, deliberately. “Thank you,” she said softly, looking up into Kaiser’s eyes.

  Aria knelt before the gravestones, her entire body trembling as if the weight of the mountain itself pressed against her. Her voice, fragile and broken, escaped her lips in a wavering whisper. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I brought this upon us. If I hadn’t been born, maybe… maybe you’d still be alive.”

  Her words lingered in the still air, raw and unguarded, the grief that had been dormant inside her for years. She bent her head, the loose pink locks of hair framing her face like a curtain as tears cascaded unceasingly down her cheeks, staining the cold ground beneath.

  Kaiser remained at her side, his habitual stoicism softened as he studied her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move — because he knew it was her moment, and anything he could say might crack it.

  “I don’t know if you can hear me,” Aria said softly, the sound nearly lost to the wind, “but… I’ll make things right. I will try to be the person you would have wished for me to be. The daughter you both deserved.”

  She reached out, her trembling hands resting on the cold, weathered stone. Her touch lingered as if she could draw strength from the graves, her fingers tracing the names carved into them. Her lips moved silently, a prayer forming that only her heart could speak.

  But as soon as she was close to getting some piece, her thoughts spiraled.

  “You should hate me. I ruined everything. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be here—laughing, living, growing old together. How do I make up for that? How do I fix what’s broken when I’m the one who broke it?”

  She closed her eyes, the tears burning as they slipped down her cheeks as a persistent memory surfaced. The sound of her father's laughter as he whirled her round the garden, her mother's soft fingers running through her hair. She held on to those bits, even if it hurt more.

  “I?miss you,” she said through a choked voice. “I miss you so much. Every single day. And I don’t know what to do without you.”

  The wind took her words, and for a brief moment everything felt as if it had paused — the world holding its breath for her sorrow.

  After a long moment, Aria opened her empty eyes. She pressed her palms flat against the gravestones, her head bowed, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Aria stood, slowly, the weight of her grief still heavy on her shoulders, but it was divided now, shared with the earth beneath her feet.

  She stepped back, her gaze lingering on the graves as if she were trying to memorize every detail, to sear the image into her heart. Turning to Kaiser, she met his eyes briefly before looking away, her voice soft but resolute. “Thank you… for coming here.”

  Kaiser nodded, watching?her quietly, in understanding. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said with a steady voice, “we can go.”

  Aria didn’t move. Instead she turned back toward the graves, her lips trembling as she murmured, “I’ll come back. I promise.”

  The wind stirred through?the mountain graveyard, as if it understood her. When she finally rose, she was different —?not healed, not whole, but maybe a little bit less broken.