Parker's Legacy | Damon Salvatore, Malachai Parker

18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE AGE OLD CURSE

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THE LATE AFTERNOON sun cast long shadows across the weathered headstones of Rosewood Cemetery. A gentle breeze whispered through the branches of ancient oak trees, their leaves rustling softly in nature's quiet lament. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers left by mourners, a bittersweet perfume hanging in the stillness.

Rows of granite and marble stretched as far as the eye could see, each stone a silent testament to lives once lived. Some were adorned with fresh bouquets, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the somber gray surroundings. Others stood bare, their inscriptions fading under the relentless march of time.

In the distance, a solitary figure stood motionless before a grave, his silhouette etched against the warm glow of the setting sun. As the light shifted, it revealed the familiar form of Henrique, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.

Two months had passed since the tumultuous events that led to his father's demise, yet the passage of time seemed to have done little to ease the burden of his thoughts. Here, in this place of eternal rest, Henrique sought solace in the presence of the one person who would've understood him best — his mother.

Henrique's eyes traced the elegant script etched into the cool stone before him. 'Beloved mother and protector,' it read, a testament to the woman who had sacrificed everything for her only child, including her own life. A lump formed in his throat as memories flooded his mind, bittersweet and vivid.

Two months felt like an eternity and yet no time at all. The weight of recent events pressed down on him, a complex tangle of relief, guilt, and lingering sorrow. Freedom from his father's machinations had come at a steep price, one that left him feeling adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

"I wish you were here, mother," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "You'd probably know what to say, how to make sense of all this. Father's dead and I had a part in that. I feel... guilty."

He closed his eyes, imagining her warm smile, the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek when he was first born. In this quiet moment, surrounded by the departed, Henrique allowed himself to feel the full extent of his loss — not just of his mother, but of the family he once thought he had.

Questions swirled in his mind: Had he done the right thing? What would his mother think of the choices he'd made? And how could he move forward, carrying the weight of his family's complicated legacy?

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cemetery, Henrique felt a curious mix of melancholy and resolve settling over him. Here, in the presence of his mother's memory, he found a measure of peace — and perhaps, the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

"There you are," a voice boomed from behind, breaking the cemetery's solemn silence.

Henrique didn't need to turn to know it was his brother, Kai. He'd recognise that annoying yet comforting voice anywhere. The sound of footsteps on grass grew closer until Kai appeared in his peripheral vision, settling down beside him on the ground.

Kai's eyes fixed on the headstone, his expression uncharacteristically somber. For a moment, neither brother spoke, the weight of their shared history hanging between them.

"I've been looking for you," Kai finally said, his voice softer now. He glanced sideways at Henrique. "Should've known you'd be here."

Henrique nodded slightly, still gazing at his mother's name etched in stone. "I needed to... I don't know. Talk to her, I guess."