Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 147

Chapter 147 - "Until the Last Note Fades"

December 24.

The wind was gentle that morning, like an old lullaby humming against the trees.
Sunlight spilled through bare branches. Every breath of winter air tasted like memory.

Miexha Verra Dom sat quietly in her wheelchair, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, a faded photo album resting in her lap.
Her hands trembled now, thin and wrinkled like paper, but her eyes still held their light - the same eyes that once captivated stadiums and softened nations.

She looked up at the marble headstone before her.

Zatariel Wov.
Forever sixteen. Forever golden.

"Happy birthday, Riel," she whispered, her voice crackling like an old record.
"And tomorrow's mine. I'll be 101."

She smiled gently, though her breath hitched.

Beside her stood Xefariel - now in her seventies, yet still her mother's quiet, constant shadow.

Miexha's fingers brushed the photo album pages. So many years. So many faces. So many songs.

"I've been thinking... maybe life wasn't meant to be perfect. Just lived. Loud, messy, stubborn, and brave."
"And I did, Riel. I really did."

Her eyes landed on a photo of a much younger version of herself - holding baby Jamie backstage, eyeliner smudged, microphone in hand.
Another showed her with Jayson, years later, dancing barefoot in their living room as their children screamed around them with chocolate-stained mouths.

She let out a small, breathy laugh.

"I married Jayson twice. He ran away, came back, and stayed. He made the world laugh and cry, and sometimes he made me want to strangle him with a necktie."

Tears filled her eyes.

"He died with a speech in his hand. Eighty-nine years old, still working like he hadn't already given enough. The country buried him like a king. But I buried the man I kissed beneath cheap hotel blankets during our first honeymoon."

She paused, gaze lifting to the gravestone again.

"Asha died too young. Riel, you would've hated that. I think... I think it broke something in all of us."

Her thumb lingered on a photo of her children.

"Jamie never had her own, but she raised the world. Shellie and Aurelei plotted their marriage like it was an anime arc. Xiejay nearly went to jail for love. Ariel became a legend, left behind four husbands, and still says love is her favorite disaster."
"And Xefariel... my quiet warrior. My last duet partner. She stayed with me when everyone else flew."

She looked up to the sky.

"But everyone's gone now. I'm the last note. The final verse. And it's okay."

She reached out a trembling hand to Zatariel's name.

"Riel... I'm ready. I'm so, so ready."

The wind rustled gently through the trees.

And in that moment - just for a heartbeat - she saw him.

Golden-haired. Sixteen. Smiling under the old oak tree.
Arms open. Waiting.

She closed her eyes.

And breathed her last.

---

One Week Later

The Dom Family Cemetery was covered in soft snow.

Hundreds came.
Politicians. Fans. Friends. Students. Children who had grown up hearing her voice through speakers. Grandchildren who only knew her through stories. Generations who felt she was part of their lives.

Jamie stood front and center, composed yet trembling.
Shellie wept into Aurelei's chest.
Xiejay remained still, jaw clenched, tears streaking silently.
Ariel held Xefariel as she broke - sobbing like a child, the one person who had always been there... gone.

"She waited for us to live," Ariel whispered.
"She held on... until we were all okay."

But for Xefariel, life without her mother was unimaginable. It had never existed before. And now, it would have to.

The coffin was lowered gently beside Jayson's. Their names carved together into polished stone.

Petals rained.

Farewells whispered.

The world seemed to pause.

No fireworks. No eulogies shouted into microphones.

Just her voice.

A lullaby.
The final one.

---

Beyond the Curtain of Reality...

Far behind the mourners, unseen and untouched by time, stood a man in black.

Damian Duke.

Unaged. Eyes of green, dark hair brushing his jaw. A lone figure in a fading illusion.

In his hand, he held a glowing orb - soft, pulsing.
A soul fragment. Ofreigha's.

The dream had reached its end. The fabricated peace was unraveling.

"Thank you, Miexha..." His voice cracked.
"No-Mother. Thank you for living it. For giving her this world."

The wind howled softly, and the world around him began to unravel.

This place - this peaceful, warless world - had been built from his deepest guilt and quietest hope. A world borrowed. A world forged of stolen time and mercy.

But it wasn't real.

And now... he had to let it go.

"This illusion ends now," Damian said.
"Because she deserves truth. Even if it's broken. Even if it hurts."

He kissed the orb.

"I'll bring you back, Ofreigha. And when I do... we'll make a real paradise."

One where the peace wasn't borrowed, but earned.

The sky shattered.

The snow faded.
The mourners blinked out like stars at sunrise.
The oak trees vanished.
The music stopped.
Even the memory of Miexha's voice disappeared.

Only her portrait remained - smiling, forever in her prime.

And then, nothing.

The dream dissolved.

The world ended.

And Damian stepped forward into the void.

---

"Goodnight, Littlelune."