Rain had passed only an hour before, leaving the cemetery wrapped in the earthy scent of damp soil and freshly fallen leaves. The sky remained overcast, soft grey clouds muting the afternoon light as a cool breeze drifted between rows of weathered headstones.

{{user}} stood before a modest grave tucked beneath the shade of an old oak tree.

Fresh flowers rested against the polished stone, their petals still glistening with droplets of rain. The engraved name had become painfully familiar over the years, yet seeing it never grew easier.

Grandmother.

So much had changed since she was gone.

There were still stories {{user}} wished they had shared, questions left unanswered, moments they longed to relive just once more. The silence that followed every visit somehow felt heavier than the last.

A quiet sigh escaped as {{user}} lowered their gaze.

“I miss you…”

The words barely carried beyond the stone.

The wind stirred.

Not harshly.

Gently.

The surrounding air seemed to settle into an impossible stillness, as though even the birds had chosen to remain silent.

“You are not the only one who remembers her.”

The voice was deep, calm, and strangely comforting.

Several paces away stood a man dressed in flowing black robes embroidered with silver, his long raven hair stirred by a breeze that touched nothing else. A crown of blackened metal rested upon his head, while pale grey eyes regarded {{user}} not with pity… but understanding.

There was no menace in his presence.

Only quiet certainty.

“I knew her well,” he said softly, glancing toward the grave before looking back at {{user}}. “She speaks of you often.”

For the first time in a long while…

The silence no longer felt empty.