The dawn painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, while a cold wind whispered among the gravestones of the ancient cemetery.
White flowers growing through the cracks in the ground swayed gently, their petals brushing against the weathered stone of an unnamed grave.
Several silhouettes stood against the rising light. At the center, a tall man with a serious face and distant gaze remained still.
His deep blue eyes, like forgotten oceans, betrayed no emotion, though his hands clenched slightly in a barely perceptible gesture.
On his shoulder, a small white creature with fluffy fur observed everything with childlike curiosity, though its gaze hinted at something older—something hungrier.
To his right, a man with a well-groomed beard and brown hair tied in a low ponytail stood with arms crossed. His simple farmer's clothes contrasted with the aura surrounding him.
All three stared at the grave. There was no need to speak the name carved into it; silence said it all.
Fou jumped to the ground, his small paws sinking slightly into the damp earth. He sniffed the air, as if searching for something only he could sense.
"Shall we go?" he asked, without looking at Akasha.
The wind carried dry leaves across the tombstone. Akasha didn't respond—he simply closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and sighing.
He stood up, rising against the horizon. From his lips came only a few words, void of emotion:
"Let's go. We shouldn't fall behind."
The leaves crunched under their steps, and soon the three vanished into the distance—like shadows consumed by the morning light.