Page 91 of Queen of Vengeance

It burned down years ago.

Lunaira knows what’s there now. Maybe another family built over top of it.

Being seen meant a death sentence for me so walking through the village was out of the question, but the cemetery was likely empty.

That was where my entire family was, anyway.

I stared down the dirt road leading to the rest of the village, thinking that one day, I could return—if I survived.

My feet started moving before my heart was ready.

With every step, I could feel a heartstring snap. I stood before my car, but driving around didn’t feel right. I wanted to walk there just as I would have when I was younger. I removed my white heels and headed away from the car.

As I was walking, my old school came into view.

I reminisced about sitting in the courtyard with Mairy, waiting for Jax and Zane.

He occupied all my thoughts even back then. Although before, it was for a different reason, one I couldn’t bring myself to fathom now.

I wished I could go back and warn my past self. I would have made different choices and gotten better outcomes.

Hindsight is 20/20, as they say.

I shook my head at the thought and continued walking. Eventually, I reached the cemetery where they buried everyone in the surrounding regions—not just Dask but all the small villages and farms too.

Despite servicing such a large area, there were hardly ever any visitors.

I suppose people pass and the living relatives just move on with their lives.

I wasn’t sure if I was a special case or if it was because I had no choice but to sit and stew.

The grass and dirt around the cemetery were soft almost like a blanket. The land looked incredibly fertile compared to the area around it, which was largely barren.

I walked all the way to the back part of the cemetery where I knew my parents would be buried. I only wished I was present to make sure that Mema and my son got a headstone as well.

I looked ahead at our little family corner to see that there were five headstones lined up, not just two. “What?”

My heart pounded in my ears as I tried to figure out who could have been buried there.

I guess the more important question is “Who set up the headstone?”

As soon as the names were in view, my heart sank into my stomach.

My whole body calmed and I lowered myself to the ground.

They were my parents’ tombstones, tended to with flowers in front of them, and the three other tombstones had Mema’s, Jason’s, and my name on them. They appeared to be carved by an amateur.

The markings looked nothing like my parents’ tombstones but were also tended to.

No moss grew over the top, and no dirt covered their names. “I’m here, guys. I’m finally home. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long. I’m glad to see someone was being kind to you.”

Who could have done this? As I said, people usually don’t frequent these cemeteries for their own loved ones, let alone someone else’s.

I pressed my lips together.

The pressure built up in my eyes as I tried not to cry.

My throat burned like I had swallowed a hot poker.

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