The Royal Farewell
The sun had long slipped behind the ruined horizon, leaving the world under a deep wash of indigo. The air still carried the scent of scorched stone and iron—a reminder of the battle that had clawed this land open. Smoke drifted in thin veins through the cold, broken fields as the survivors gathered around the silent casket.
Leon stood in the center, the dim light catching the sharp edge of his face. The faint glow of mana still traced along the earth where his power had burned through hours earlier. It pulsed softly like the memory of thunder.
Beside him, Alina bowed her head, waiting for his word.
"Alina," Leon said quietly, his voice steady but low, "where is the royal cemetery?"
Her eyes lifted. "South, my lord. Beyond the palace wall, through the ash plain. I'll lead the way."
He nodded once. "Good. Prepare the procession."
