Cataclysm

Chapter 14

The Azalea cemetery was a place of quiet contemplation, a haven of peace amidst the bustling city. Devante, now a young man of seventeen, walked through the rows of weathered headstones, his footsteps echoing softly on the gravel path. He stopped at a small, unassuming plot, where two headstones stood side by side, their inscriptions etched with the names of his parents, Zen Lee and Anya.

Fourteen years had passed since that fateful day, fourteen years since he had last felt his father's warm embrace, since he had heard his mother's gentle laughter. Fourteen years of growing up without them, of carrying the weight of their sacrifice in his heart.

He knelt before the headstones, his fingers tracing the faded inscriptions, his eyes reflecting the bittersweet memories of a life that had been both tragically short and profoundly impactful. He could still see his father's warm smile, feel the comforting weight of his hand on his shoulder, hear his voice, strong and reassuring, guiding him through life's challenges. He could still smell his mother's sweet perfume, feel the warmth of her embrace, hear her gentle words, soothing his anxieties and filling his heart with love.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked at the headstones, a mixture of sorrow and gratitude washing over him. He knew they were at peace now, free from the pain and suffering that had plagued their lives. He knew they were together, their love transcending even death, their souls intertwined in a bond that no earthly force could break.

"Good morning, Mother... Father..." he whispered, his voice low and reverent. "It's my 17th birthday today, and I hope you both are as proud of me as I think you are."

He sat down on the grass, his back against the headstone, the warmth of the sun on his face a comforting reminder of the life that flowed around him. He smiled, a bittersweet expression that spoke volumes of the love and loss he carried within him.

"Mother, do you know? I can finally bake the pastries you used to sell with me." He chuckled, a sound that was tinged with both sadness and joy. "It's really easy, just like you told me. I can still remember how you made them, but I seem to have forgotten your secret ingredients. What a shame." He chuckled again, the sound echoing in the stillness of the cemetery.

He turned to his father's headstone, his gaze meeting the inscription that seemed to hold a reflection of his own spirit. He had always admired his father, his strength, his courage, his unwavering love for his family. He had promised himself, as a young boy, that he would become a samurai just like his father, and he had kept that promise.

"Look, Papa," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and longing. "I'm a well-known samurai now. The 'Divine Samurai of Azalea.' Isn't that almost as cool as your 'Celestial Samurai of Zenica'?" He grinned, the image of his father's proud smile flashing through his mind.

"I just hope you guys are doing much better now." He looked at the headstones, his heart filled with a love that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

He spent the entire day there, sharing his thoughts, his dreams, his hopes with his parents, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the cemetery. He told them about his life, his friends, his struggles, his triumphs, his dreams. He told them about the divine power that coursed through him, a gift he had inherited from his father, a power that he knew he would use to protect those he loved, to defend those who could not defend themselves.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cemetery, Devante knew it was time to leave. He rose to his feet, his heart heavy with a love that could never be extinguished.

"Father... Mother... I'll be going now." He looked at their headstones, his eyes filled with tears. He missed them so much, but he also felt a sense of peace, knowing that they were finally together, their love a beacon of light in the darkness.

He stretched out his fist, his hand hovering over his father's headstone. He remembered their fist bump, a gesture of love and affection that had become a symbol of their bond.

"Together?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

He could almost hear his father's voice, a faint echo from beyond the veil of death.

"Together," he whispered back, his voice a phantom in the fading light.

Devante turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing softly on the gravel path. He knew that his parents would always be with him, their love a guiding light in his heart, their memory a source of strength and inspiration.

He knew that he would continue to fight for what was right, to defend the innocent, to honor their legacy. He knew that their sacrifice had not been in vain, that their love had given him the strength to carry on, to face the challenges that lay ahead.

He knew that he would never forget them, that their love would forever be a part of him, a beacon of hope in the darkness, a guiding light on his path.

The end of Volume 1.