The iron gates of the cemetery stood open, a silent, grim mouth leading into a city of the dead.
I hadn't crossed this threshold in years. I'd told myself I was too busy, that the memories were too painful, that life just kept moving forward.
But standing here now, feeling the cold iron under my palm, I knew the truth.
It was guilt that kept me away. A deep, corrosive shame that I was alive and breathing in a world where they were not.
The sky was a sheet of leaden gray, pressing down on the world.
The air was thick and still, heavy with the promise of a rain that refused to fall.
I walked slowly, my boots crunching on the gravel path, a sound that seemed obscenely loud in the profound silence.
Rows of headstones stretched out on either side, a monotonous grid of carved names and paired dates.
A lifetime reduced to a dash between two numbers.
The first, date of birth. The second, date of death.
My black hoodie was little defense against the biting wind that snaked through the monuments.
With every step deeper into the cemetery, the noise of the living world faded, all of it receded until there was nothing.
Just me, my breathing, and the weight of a thousand silent stories.
And then I found it. Their stone was simple, unadorned.
Gray granite, clean lines. No angels, no flowery epitaphs. Just their names.
Amara Quovar. Elias Quovar.
The dates were carved with a sharp, unforgiving precision.
I stopped a few feet away, my hands shoved deep in my pockets, my shoulders hunched against a chill that wasn't entirely from the wind.
What do you say to the ghosts of the two people who meant everything? How do you explain a decade of emptiness?
"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," I began, my voice a rough scrape, barely audible. It was swallowed by the vast, waiting quiet. "It's been quite a while."
I forced myself to take a step closer. The grass was neatly trimmed around the base of the stone.
"I… Well something happened yesterday." I swallowed, my throat dry. "I awakened. I know. It's late. Pathetically late. But it happened."
A short, brittle laugh escaped me, a sound so foreign it startled me.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed. It felt like breaking something.
"I got a lightning ability. And… something else... I also have infinite mana. Can you believe that? You both always said I had potential. I guess you were right all along."
The wind chose that moment to gust, whipping through my hair and tugging at my clothes.
I looked down at the cold granite, and the words caught in my throat, thick with an emotion I couldn't name.
"I wish you could see me now," I murmured, the confession ripped from somewhere deep. "I wish you were here to tell me what to do with it. Dad, you'd have a hundred jokes about not electrocuting myself. Mom, you'd… you'd just look at me with that smile. The one that made me feel like I could do anything."
The memories flooded in, not as a painful assault, but as a warm, devastating wave.
The smell of my mother's spice bread baking. The sound of my father's booming laugh echoing through the house. His hand, heavy and reassuring, on my shoulder.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging half-moons into my palms. The physical pain was a anchor.
"I'm sorry," I breathed, the words fracturing. "I couldn't do anything. I just… stayed."
I knelt then, the dampness of the earth seeping through the knees of my trouser.
I reached out, my fingers tracing the carved letters of their names.
The stone was cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the living warmth they'd once had.
"I don't know if you'd be proud of the man I became," I said, my voice low and steady now, a vow made in the quiet. "But I'm going to become someone you can be proud of. Someone powerful. Someone strong. I won't waste this. I won't waste the second chance you gave me."
The wind rustled the grass around me one more time, a soft, sighing sound.
It felt like a benediction. An acknowledgment.
"I'll come back," I promised, pushing myself to my feet. My knees were damp, my heart was heavy, but for the first time, it wasn't filled with just despair. There was a purpose there, too. A spark. "Next time, I'll have something to show you."
I stood for a final moment, memorizing the sight, then turned to leave.
The walk back felt different. The crunch of gravel under my boots was the only sound in a world that seemed to be holding its breath.
As I reached the rusted iron gates, the first drops of rain finally began to fall.
They pattered softly against the leaves of the old oaks lining the path, in a gentle, percussive rhythm.
I paused and looked up at the churning sky. Far in the distance, beyond the city skyline, lightning flickered.
"I'll make you proud," I whispered into the rain.
The wind snatched the words away, but the promise settled deep in my soul, a core of unbreakable resolve.
"I promise."
With a deep breath that filled my lungs with the clean, rain-washed air, I stepped through the gates and back into the world of the living.
"That was too emotional" I said to myself, touching my eyes.
I was practically almost embarrassed of myself, but a faint, determined smile touched my lips for the first time in a decade.
It felt strange on my face, but right.
"Well it's time," I muttered to myself, pulling my hood up against the falling rain and walking forward without a single glance back.