R E E V A N
The trees and ground looked abandoned as my footsteps carried me forward.
Slowly.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
The wind moved quietly through the branches above me, the leaves whispering against each other. The graveyard was almost empty, silent except for the faint rustling of grass beneath my shoes.
My hands were trembling.
Inside my chest, my heart beat unevenly as I whispered under my breath.
"Please..."
My voice cracked slighly.
"Please let it be a lie."
I kept walking.
The small church came into view through the trees. The same church where Ira used to come sometimes. I remembered watching her walk through those doors once, sunlight in her hair, her face softer than I had ever seen it.
My chest tightened.
I pushed the memory away and stepped into the graveyard.
Rows of headstones stretched across the damp earth. Some old. Some worn by time. Some barely readable.
My eyes moved desperately from one to another.
Searching.
But also praying not to find what I was looking for.
"Please..." I murmured again.
My breathing had become shallow now.
Then I saw it.
A grave that looked too new.
The soil was still fresh. Dark and unsettled. The stone clean and untouched by time.
My heartbeat stopped.
No.
No, no, no.
My body refused to move for a moment.
"Please don't be her," I whispered hoarsely.
But my feet still carried me forward.
One slow step.
Then another.
My legs felt weak, like they might collapse beneath me.
When I finally reached the stone, my vision blurred.
My eyes slowly lifted.
And the words carved into the marble stabbed straight through my chest.
Ira Veyansh.
My breath left my lungs in a broken sound.
"...No."
The word barely escaped my lips.
I dropped to my knees in front of the grave.
The cold earth pressed against my legs, but I didn't feel it.
My hand moved forward slowly, almost hesitantly, until my fingers touched the engraved letters of her name.
The stone was cold.
Too cold.
My hand trembled as it rested there.
"Ira..."
My voice broke.
I stared at the name again and again.
Still unable to believe it.
Still waiting for someone to appear and tell me it was a mistake.
That she was alive.
That this was some cruel misunderstanding.
But the grave remained silent.
"It's true, my son."
The priest's voice was gentle, heavy with quiet sorrow.
My throat felt raw as I spoke.
"So... it's not one of her pranks?"
The words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
My voice was hoarse from crying earlier, from screaming until there was nothing left in my chest.
The priest looked at me with tired eyes.
"I saw her with my own eyes," he said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
The simple touch almost broke me.
I shut my eyes tightly.
Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.
My chest trembled.
"When?" I forced the word out.
The priest sighed quietly.
"It's been three days since her burial."
Three days.
The number echoed in my mind like a cruel bell.
Three days without her breathing.
Three days without anyone hearing her voice.
I let out a shaky laugh that sounded closer to a sob.
"She was buried once..." I whispered bitterly.
"But they killed her every day."
The priest didn't interrupt.
He simply listened.
"She didn't deserve this," I said, my voice cracking.
A long silence followed.
Then the priest spoke softly.
"Sometimes life-"
"It's my mistake," I cut him off.
My hands clenched into fists.
"It was fate," the priest tried again gently.
"N-no..." My voice broke apart.
"I... I shouldn't have lef-left her."
The words came out uneven, trembling.
"I should have stayed."
My breathing became shaky again as the guilt crushed down on my chest.
"If I hadn't left her alone..."
I looked back at the grave, my vision blurring once more.
"...she would still be here."
"I couldn't even see her... one last time before... before she was gone."
My voice broke in the middle of the sentence.
The priest watched me quietly, his expression heavy with sympathy. For a moment he didn't say anything, as if words themselves had become useless here.
Then he gently squeezed my shoulder.
"May God give you peace, my son," he murmured.
I didn't answer.
Peace was the last thing I deserved.
The priest offered a final prayer under his breath before slowly walking away, leaving me alone in the quiet graveyard.
The wind rustled softly through the trees again.
I stared at the grave.
My grave.
Her grave.
That's when something moved near the stone.
At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.
But then I noticed them.
A small blackbird, perched quietly beside the grave.
And beside it-
A little spider, curled against the edge of the stone like it hadn't moved in days.
My breath caught.
"...Dawn...?"
The bird didn't fly away.
It simply tilted its head, watching me.
"And... Witty..."
My chest tightened painfully.
Ira's pets.
She used to laugh when people looked horrified at them.
"They're scary, Reevan," she had said once, smiling proudly as the bird hopped onto her finger. "I love when people feel horrified looking at them, but they're my family... real ones.."
Now they were here.
Right beside her grave.
The blackbird looked thinner than before, its feathers dull. It hadn't left.
And the spider sat unmoving beside the stone, as if guarding it.
Like they had been waiting.
Or mourning.
My throat tightened.
"Dawn... Witty..." I whispered slowly.
My voice trembled.
The bird let out a soft sound, something between a chirp and a cry.
It hopped once.
Then again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Until it stopped near my knee.
The spider moved too, crawling slowly across the damp stone before settling near the edge of my shoe.
They didn't run.
They didn't hide.
They just stayed there.
Lonely.
Just like me.
My hand trembled as I reached out.
"...She's gone," I whispered hoarsely.