17 Funeral

The grandeur of the Ravenstein estate took on a somber hue as the day of the funeral arrived. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, their weight mirroring the heaviness that had settled upon the hearts of those in attendance. The air was thick with gloom, threatening to rain, as if weeping for Ariel.

Nestled within the heart of the estate was the burial ground of the Ravensteins, a legacy of this formidable family. Monuments of marble and stone rose gracefully from the ground, each bearing the mark of a distinguished Ravenstein.

Elaborate sculptures and intricate engravings capture the essence of these illustrious individuals, immortalizing their achievements and contributions to the family's legacy. A marble dais, adorned with flickering candles and wreaths of midnight-hued flowers, held the empty casket that symbolized Ariel Ravenstein's final resting place.

The Ravenstein family, with their distinctive white hair, stood together at the forefront. Their expressions were a mosaic of their lineage. Atticus, Ember, and Caldor stood together at the front.

Ember and Caldor's eyes were completely red from crying all night. Atticus couldn't help but clench his fists as he watched them in this state. He felt powerless to help them and this pained him.

As the service began, a hush fell over the assembled multitude. A soft dirge, carried by mournful strings, with the rustle of leaves and the distant echo of a mourning dove.

The head of the Ravenstein family, Avalon, stepped forward to address the gathering. Standing amidst a gathering of somber faces, Avalon's voice sorrow and reverence as he spoke about his fallen brother.

"He was a good man. A good brother. A good father." Avalon's words seemed to hang in the air, and his throat felt parched like he had been talking for hours.

"Talented beyond measure, Ariel had a strong spirit and the kindest heart." A faint smile tugged at the corner of Avalon's lips as he remembered moments with his brother.

Avalon's gaze turned downward for a moment, his expression dark. "He didn't deserve to go like this," he murmured, his voice low. "To have his life cut short so abruptly, it's a loss that will forever linger in our hearts." As his voice wavered with emotion, Avalon's resolve remained unshaken.

"But even in the face of this death, we must remember his legacy," he declared, his words a rallying cry. "Ariel's spirit lives on in the ideals he fought for and the impact he made on all of us."

Avalon's voice grew stronger, his eyes shimmering with pride and sadness. "Let us honor Ariel by carrying forward his values, by continuing the work he started, and by standing united as a family. For even in death, his presence remains a guiding light that will forever inspire us."

A silence settled over the courtyard as the empty casket was slowly lowered into the ground. The absence of Ariel's physical form was a painful reminder of the manner in which he had passed.

Atticus, Ember, Caldor and the other family members, with somber expressions , each took turns placing a single white rose upon the casket, a silent tribute to the fallen.

After the burial of Ariel Ravenstein, the grand estate bore witness to a procession of families who had come to pay their respects. The tier-1 families sent representatives as they deem it beneath them to come all the way for such.

Atticus navigated through the grand hall, which had been converted into a space for both mourning and family members honoring their loved ones. As his gaze scanned the crowd, he noticed Freya and Caldor engaged in conversation with a few individuals, yet Ember was nowhere to be found.

When he finally found her, she was standing alone in a corner, concealed by shadows. Atticus approached her with a gentle smile. "Ember," he began, his tone soft and reassuring. "I know this is a stupid question, but how are you holding up?"

Ember's gaze shifted toward Atticus, her once bright eyes now red and puffy. Her sleeves were soaked with tears as she had made them into a makeshift handkerchief. "He didn't deserve this," she said, her voice hoarse and vulnerable.

Atticus nodded, with understanding. "No, he didn't," he agreed. "Sometimes life is out of our control, so is death. But remember, you have a family that cares deeply for you, and we'll support each other no matter what."

Ember's silence lingered, her eyes fixed on a distant point. Atticus continued, his voice gentle. "You have to get past this, Ember. It's what Uncle Ariel would have wanted."

For a moment, Ember's façade seemed to waver, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes.

"It hurts" she admitted, her voice finally revealing her hurt.

Atticus reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to hurt," he assured her. "But don't let that pain consume you. Lean on those who care about you, and together, we'll find a way to honor his memory."

Ember's gaze met his, tears streaming from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace and whispered, her voice barely audible, "Thank you."

Atticus held her close, gently patting her head. "You're never alone, Ember," he promised.