The cold over the funeral was suffocating and heavy. Raindrops fell hard, striking skin like tiny stones. Varek's shoulders drooped; his presence felt small and drained like he was folding inward under an invisible weight. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.
The tall trees stood solemnly, people shifting under umbrellas, the priest murmuring, the sky weeping—but Varek stood still, frozen in grief.
The world was moving, and he was standing, grieving—"I need to move, my feet aren't stuck, my hands aren't stiff, but why,– maybe if my father was here he would surely kick my ass for being like this, my mom will comfort me if I have such problem's. I miss them so much, I wanted to cry so much. I want to stay home again with my family." Varek's head bowed low. His hands clenched at his sides, cold and numb. And then, at last, he cried—eyes locked on the names carved into the stone that now held his parents' memory.
The bed gave of an uneasy feeling, the blanket felt rough and cold, the wall filled with dust. The painting was filled of cobwebs. He was there witnessing everything, feeling everything, he hoped and wondered, "what am I supposed to do, do I deserve to be happy, will I be happy? "
He lay down on the side of the bed and slept for an hour. A knock on the door suddenly woke him up. He opened the door and was shocked to see his friends, Keiran And Vikas.
They all sat at the chair in front of the table.
They discuss the incident about varek's parents. Varek knows who killed his parents, yet he never tells his friends the truth, the truth that will also devastate them. He thinks that timing is important even in this kind of situation.
"We need to find information about the killer of your parents, I know how you act, we know that you will not let it go easily, and we also know that you will go alone and find the person who did it but we just can't let you make that decision by yourself you need us." Vikas insisted, his voice calm, yet unwavering.
"Well, I don't get fancy words, but I am here throughout the history and courses of your life, bro," Keiran muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Well, thank you for all of it, and don't worry, I got plans where you two are involved. We will train harder than before and learn some new things that are more advanced than the others." Varek responded sincerely, a small, grateful smile forming despite the heaviness.
Two days later.
Vikas, Varek, And Keiran walk side by side and entered the library of mana and magic.
They sat on the chair, holding a bunch of mana books.
"they have bone mana, slipper mana, and poo mana, what—huh, the heck? I felt bad for these students," Keiran snorted, flipping the page with a crooked grin.
"at least they are much more popular than you, Keiran. They actually made those mana abilities useful," Vikas retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I found the poo mana disgusting, how even those work, like do they shoot from their hands or do they use gloves?" Keiran muttered with a raised brow, half gagging, half genuinely curious.
While Vikas and Keiran talked to each other, varek was reading the books with genuine curiosity and seriousness. Motivated to get revenge on that certain person.
The last light faded from the sky, replaced by soft, silvery moonlight. Crickets chirped steadily and the air carried a hush, as if the world went to sleep.