A kingdom of Ash and Echoes

Chapter 21 - A Queen without her King

The streets of Avaranth were draped in black. Banners hung limp from the towers, and candles flickered in every window. The people had gathered in the plaza before the royal castle, their faces etched with grief and uncertainty. Even in death, King Aelric commanded their attention.
Lyriana rode at the head of the procession beside her mother, her hands gripping the reins tightly. Callum followed on a stool carried by four guards, his eyes hidden beneath a hood, his face pale but resolute. Though he could not walk, the people knew he was there—heir to the throne, scarred and broken, yet still their prince.
The coffin was carried out of the castle, draped in royal purple and gold, the crown placed upon its lid as the bells tolled once more. Every strike seemed to shake the city, and Lyriana felt it through her chest.

She caught sight of the citizens lining the streets—some weeping openly, others bowing their heads in silence. Merchants who had argued with the king, soldiers who had marched under his banner, even children who had played in the castle gardens—all stood in quiet respect.
Her mother's hand brushed hers, steadying her. "They loved him," Elowen whispered. "As much as we did."

Lyriana nodded but said nothing. The grief inside her was raw, heavy with the knowledge that their family's strength had been broken. Her gaze fell on Callum. Though he could not rise, the heir's presence commanded attention. His chin lifted slightly, a faint hint of defiance in his eyes. The people would look to him now, and he could not fail—not even in his crippled state.
The procession moved slowly toward the royal burial grounds, an ancient cemetery where generations of Avaranth's rulers rested beneath stone and soil. Lyriana's thoughts wandered to the stories she had heard as a child, of kings who had been brave and wise, kings who had failed, kings whose names had been erased by time. Her father's legacy, she realized, was one of enduring love—a reminder of what Avaranth had once been and what it could still be if she and Callum were strong enough to carry it forward.

At the grave, the coffin was lowered into the earth. The crown and scepter sat atop it, marking both the end of a life and the weight of responsibility left behind.
Callum's hands clenched at his sides. Though he could not kneel, he bowed his head, silent tears staining his cheeks. Lyriana wanted to rush to him, to say something to take away the pain, but there were no words for this. No words for the death of a king, for the loss of a father, for the fracture left in a kingdom and a family alike.
Elowen stepped forward, voice trembling but strong. "We lay him to rest," she said. "But we do not abandon what he loved. The kingdom lives in us. In you, in Callum, and in me. We carry his heart forward."

Lyriana placed her hand on her brother's shoulder. "We will protect him," she whispered. "We will protect each other. And we will not let Avaranth fall."
The crowd began to disperse, and Lyriana remained at the edge of the grave, staring at the soil that covered her father. The wind tugged at her cloak, the sky gray and heavy above, as if the heavens themselves mourned with them.

Even in this grief, she knew the storm was approaching. The northern borders were restless, rebels would see weakness, and the council would soon debate the future of a kingdom whose prince could no longer wield a sword.

Lyriana drew a deep breath, summoning the courage she had carried through every secret lesson, every hidden training session, every moment of fear and doubt. She was ready. The loved king was gone—but the blood of Avaranth still ran strong.
And she would ensure it stayed unbroken.