The king of everything

Chapter nineteen- Burden of grief

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cemetery. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the old oak trees, a sound that felt too peaceful for the moment. I stood at the edge of the freshly dug grave, staring at the polished casket being lowered into the ground, struggling to keep my emotions in check. The air was thick with the scent of freshly turned earth, mingling with the faint fragrance of the flowers arranged around Sam's resting place.

I had never imagined I'd be here, standing over my best friend's grave. It felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from, no matter how hard I tried. Sam's laughter, his jokes, the way he could lighten even the darkest days—it was all gone now, buried with him in this quiet corner of the world. The weight of his absence pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

His family was here, standing in front of me. His parents, stiff with grief, clung to each other as if holding on for dear life. Their eyes were red-rimmed, faces etched with sorrow. It was hard to meet their gaze. What could I say to them? That their son was dead because I couldn't stop a demon? That Sam had died in my arms, his soul ripped from him before he even had a chance to fight back?

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, but the pain barely registered. It was nothing compared to the hollow ache that filled my chest. Sam's last words haunted me still. *"You'll stop it. Have faith."* But standing here, watching him being lowered into the ground, it was hard to have faith in anything.

The priest's voice droned on, offering words of comfort, but they were lost on me. I couldn't focus on the funeral rites, on the prayers or the hymns. My mind was miles away, consumed by thoughts of the demon, by the darkness that had taken Sam and was still out there, lurking.

Hope stood beside me, her hand slipping into mine. She hadn't said much since that night, but her presence was a lifeline. She had known Sam too, not as well as I did, but enough for his death to hit her hard. Yet somehow, she stayed strong—for me, I suspected. I squeezed her hand, grateful for the silent support, but it did little to ease the storm raging inside me.

When the priest finished, the crowd began to disperse, offering their condolences to Sam's family before slowly making their way back to their cars. I stayed where I was, rooted to the spot, unable to move. It wasn't until Hope gently tugged at my arm that I realized I needed to leave.

"I'll give you a moment," she whispered, releasing my hand and stepping away to give me space.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I stepped closer to the grave. The casket was nearly covered now, only a small patch of the dark wood visible through the freshly tossed earth. I knelt down, my hand hovering over the soil as if I could reach through it and pull Sam back.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I should have done more. I should've saved you."

The silence that followed was deafening. No reply. No forgiveness. Just the cold, hard reality of death staring me in the face.

I stayed there a while longer, long after most people had left, until Hope returned and gently led me away. The walk back to campus was a blur, the world around me muted and distant. Sam was gone, and now I had to figure out how to keep going without him.

---

The next few days were a haze of grief and exhaustion. I barely left my room, drowning in thoughts of what had happened and the weight of Sam's death. But as much as I wanted to shut everything out, life refused to stop. Exams were looming, and despite everything, I had to somehow prepare.

It felt absurd. How was I supposed to focus on school, on equations and essays, when Sam had just been buried? When there was a demon lurking, waiting for its next victim? But I couldn't afford to fail. Not now. Sam wouldn't have wanted that.

So, I forced myself to attend classes, to sit in the library with textbooks and notes spread out in front of me, pretending like I cared about anything other than the darkness consuming my life. Hope joined me most days, her presence a quiet comfort even though we both knew things weren't okay.

Every page I read blurred before my eyes, the words making little sense as my mind wandered to darker places. What if the demon struck again? What if it came for Hope next? Or me? How much time did I have before it decided to finish what it started?

I couldn't concentrate. Every time I tried to study, the memories of that night came rushing back—Sam's final breath, the look of terror in his eyes, the way his body went limp in my arms. It was like a loop I couldn't escape, and every time it replayed, the guilt grew heavier.

"You need to take a break," Hope said one afternoon as we sat in the library. She watched me with concern, her hand resting gently on my arm. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

"I don't have a choice," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Exams are coming up, and I'm barely keeping it together."

She frowned. "I know. But this... all of this isn't something you can just push through. You need time to process what happened."

"I don't have time," I snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "If I fail these exams, then what? Everything falls apart. My grades, my future... everything."

Hope's eyes softened, and she sighed. "Your future doesn't end with these exams. And you're not alone in this. We'll figure it out, but you need to take care of yourself first."

I wanted to argue, to tell her she didn't understand, but the truth was, she was right. I was falling apart. Trying to keep up with school, with life, while battling the demons inside and out—it was too much. But what choice did I have?

The weight of everything—Sam's death, the looming exams, the constant threat of the demon—it was suffocating. But I couldn't afford to break. Not yet.