The village came in silence.
The morning of Ian's funeral was colder than usual, but the sky was clear, wide, and unclouded—an open hush above a place that had suddenly grown smaller without him.
Willowmere gathered in the clearing behind the chapel. No invitations had been sent. None were needed. The moment word had spread, the villagers came with bowed heads and soft steps, holding flowers, candles, handkerchiefs, and sorrow.
They remembered Ian not as the boy who was dying, but as the boy who had lived so deeply in such a short time. The one who had helped fix fences, who smiled at every shopkeeper, who laughed at Aria's songs and clapped at Theo's bug parades. They remembered his quiet presence at the festival, his daisy crown, his soft hands folded in prayer.
But none of them had known.
Not really.
They hadn't seen that the brightest smile in the square was hiding a body that was slowly failing. That he had known he was leaving even as he danced beside the firelight.
And now they stood together, unsure how to let go of someone who had made silence feel like belonging.
Elina knelt beside the casket, her fingers pressed tightly against the wood as though trying to feel the heartbeat that was no longer there.
She had barely moved since morning.
She wouldn't let them cover him. Wouldn't let anyone touch the box. Wouldn't even let Mira place flowers near the corners.
Her eyes were dry, but only because she had cried everything already.
James stood beside her, helpless. He had held her through sleepless nights, but here, in the morning light, all his strength had turned to stone. He didn't know what to say. How do you speak to a mother who is trying to hold back the earth?
Leon sat nearby, hands folded, jaw locked. He had stopped talking an hour ago. Alisha sat beside him, arms around her knees, shoulders shaking. They hadn't said the words aloud, but they were both thinking it: If we had seen him sooner… if we had stayed… if we had listened…
And yet none of it changed the stillness of the box between them.
Then two small shapes appeared from the chapel path.
Aria and Theo, dressed in clean white, each holding a white lily cradled in small hands. They walked slowly, deliberately, without being told. The crowd stepped aside.
Aria reached the casket first. She placed her lily softly over the polished wood.
Then Theo, voice trembling, followed her lead.
"Uncle Ian," he whispered, "may you be in peace... and reborn in a happy family."
Aria added, her voice quiet but unwavering, "May all your pain and sadness just leave you now. May you only have happiness... in your next life."
The wind stirred. Elina's head lifted slightly. She stared at them—her grandchildren—and something in her expression cracked wide open.
She slowly stood.
Her fingers finally let go of the casket's edge.
Then, quietly, she nodded.
"Go ahead," she said. "Bury him. My baby needs to rest."
As the earth was turned, Theo began to sob.
He dropped to his knees, shaking Ian's box as gently as he could. "Uncle Ian… wake up… wake up, please."
A few muffled sobs sounded from the crowd.
Then many.
The village cried—not because they had lost a boy, but because they had finally seen him, and it had taken too long.
Aria knelt beside Theo and held his hand, though her own eyes were brimming.
Elina watched them, and then gently picked Aria up.
The little girl's face was damp but calm. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was so soft it felt like a spell.
"I read in a book once," Aria whispered, "that when someone leaves you… you have to send them off with a smile. Or else... they'll hurt more... seeing their loved ones in pain."
Elina's face crumbled.
She pressed Aria to her chest, holding her tight as the first sob broke free.
And then Aria cried too.
Not because she wanted to.
But because she finally felt safe to.
The body was buried as the afternoon shadows lengthened across the hill.
White lilies were left in the soil by small hands. A ribbon from Ian's wrist—given at the Firelight Festival—was tied around a wooden marker. The villagers sang a hymn, soft and slow. One child played Ian's favorite melody on a violin—haltingly, imperfectly—but with all the courage of goodbye.
Elina stood with James behind her. Leon held Alisha's hand. Mira wrapped her arms around Theo. Noah placed a steady hand on Aria's shoulder.
And as the final shovelful of earth fell...
Somewhere high above the clearing,
the sky waited, wide and endless—
and finally, open.