CHAPTER 73: HIS LAST WORDS [2]

It was morning, and Aeron was still asleep. The night had been long, and his body was still tired. Suddenly, he opened his eyes, remembering that their journey was not yet finished. He sat up quickly and looked across the room.

Varek was still lying down, wrapped in his blanket. He looked as if he was resting peacefully. Aeron stretched, rubbed his eyes, and said softly, "We need to start going, Mr. Varek. The road is still long."

He rose to his feet and began to get himself ready. He packed his things, strapped his blade to his side, and tightened his cloak. When he was done, he turned again and said, louder this time, "I’m ready now, and waiting for you."

But Varek did not stir.

Aeron frowned. He stepped closer and called again, "Mr. Varek?" Still nothing. He reached down and tapped his shoulder. No movement. He shook him a little harder. "Varek, wake up!"

Still silence.

Aeron’s heart began to pound. He bent low and placed his hand near Varek’s face. No breath. He pressed his ear to his chest. No heartbeat.

Varek was gone.

Aeron staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. "No... no, please, no," he whispered. Then he realized that it was the truth, and he cried out, "Nooooo!"

He fell to his knees beside the body, trembling. "You should have waited," he sobbed. "We were almost there... almost at your village, almost with your family. Just a little longer, and you could have seen them, been with them again. Why didn’t you wait?" His voice cracked, and he wept bitterly.

Time passed, but Aeron did not know how long. He cried until his body ached, until his strength was gone. At last, he sat still, staring at Varek’s lifeless form, his heart empty and lost. He didn’t know what to do anymore, or how to continue the journey, he just sat there.

Then, he saw something under the blanket. A small fold of parchment peeking out. With his hands still shaking, Aeron pulled it out. It was a letter. He looked again and found another, then another. Slowly, he gathered them all. When he was done, he held five letters in his hands.

His chest tightened as he read the names written on them: Aeron, Elira, Ronan, Yvarra, Elarya.

For a moment he hesitated. Then he opened the one with his own name and began to read.

"You may think I am leaving you too soon, that your training is incomplete. But life does not give us every choice we desire, boy. It takes its own path. Do not think of me as gone, because you will always find me within you. My words, my lessons, my voice in your heart, they will remain with you forever.

Do not blame yourself for this. Do not carry that burden. Life makes choices for us, and this was one of them. If you feel you owe me anything, then the only payment I want is that you always remember what I have taught you, and live by it. Let it guide you when you are uncertain, and let it strengthen you when you feel weak.

You must not lose your strength. You have a family to protect, a kingdom to stand for, and a people to serve. Do not let sorrow steal that strength away. Always remember, a part of me will always be with you; all you need to do is recognize it."

When Aeron finished reading, his tears fell again. He pressed the letter against his chest and whispered, "I will remember. I promise."

With Varek’s letter in his heart, Aeron found new strength. He wiped his tears, stood up, and walked outside. He led their horses to a trader and exchanged them for a cart. Then he returned inside, lifted Varek’s body with care, placed him in the cart, and covered him with a sheet. With both hands on the handle, he began to push.

The cart was heavy, far heavier than he imagined. Each step felt very difficult, yet he did not stop. People along the road stared at him as he passed. Some shook their heads and whispered to one another.

"Is this boy mad, pushing such a load alone? He will not get far."

But Aeron paid no attention. His arms pained him, his legs were shaking, and sweat poured down his face, yet he kept pushing. "I owe him this much," he thought. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed again.

By the time the sun rose high in the sky, it was nearly midday, and Aeron finally reached Varnmoor, his village. His clothes clung to him, drenched in sweat, but still he kept moving.

People began to gather, curious about the boy with the cart. Aeron ignored them all and walked straight through the village streets until he reached Varek’s house.

From the doorway, Yvarra saw him. Her eyes lit up as she called his name. "Aeron!" She ran to him and threw her arms around him. Behind her, Elira and Ronan followed, smiling as they rushed to greet him.

But Yvarra felt something strange as she embraced him. She pulled back and looked at his face. His eyes were red, his expression was bad.. She glanced at the cart behind him and frowned.

"Why is your face like this?" she asked quietly. "What happened?" She looked around, searching. "Wait... where is my father?"

Aeron lowered his gaze. He could not answer.

Yvarra’s voice rose. "Is he not meant to return with you? You both left together... so why don’t I see him here with you?"

Then her eyes fell on the cart. She stared at it, at the strange covered shape within. Slowly, her breath quickened, and she shook her head. "No... no, oh no. Tell me this isn’t happening..."

Her feet carried her forward, trembling with every step. Elira and Ronan were also coming closer.

Yvarra reached the cart, her hands shaking as she pulled back the sheet. And there he was, her father, Varek, lying cold and lifeless.

She screamed. "Father!" She collapsed beside him and cried bitterly. Elira fell to her knees, crying, while Ronan clenched his fists and shouted in grief. Even Aeron’s mother, Elarya, came over immediately and joined them in crying.

The sound of mourning spread quickly. The villagers who had gathered stood in silence at first, then one by one, tears filled their eyes. They, too, began to cry, for all of them knew Varek. He was a good man, one of the best they had ever known, kind, wise, and strong.

And now, he was gone.