A Homecoming of Sorrow

Ilisia had collapsed.

Days of anxiety and worry, compounded by her sister’s sudden death…

It was more than she could bear.

Ilisia lay in bed, feeling no particular discomfort, only a profound weakness.

An inexplicable drowsiness seemed to hold her captive, locking her in its grip.

She could not rise.

Each brief period of wakefulness was swiftly overcome by an irresistible slumber, and she felt a growing coldness creep into her limbs.

In these long, nearly day-long slumbers, Ilisia always dreamed.

She dreamed of Adrian’s return, of her second brother, Simon, and their father, Duke Wenser, riding side-by-side through the city gates…

But most of all, she dreamed of her deceased handmaiden, Sherry.

Each time Sherry appeared in her dreams, she seemed to draw a little closer…

‘Such strange dreams.’

“Sister, Charles has fallen ill as well,” Katelyn said during a visit, casually mentioning the state of the castle.

“He lies in bed all day and has demanded we nail the windows shut…”

The news stirred nothing within Ilisia.

She was too weary, too exhausted to concern herself with the family’s affairs any longer.

“What am I to do…” Katelyn continued, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.

Katelyn was still just a child; anyone would feel unsettled by such sudden turmoil in the castle.

“You should rest well, Ilisia,” a deep, feminine voice interjected.

It was the voice of Lady Delarose, one of the few that brought Ilisia a sense of peace.

“I will assist Katelyn in managing the estate’s affairs until the Duke returns…”

Ilisia could barely hear Lady Delarose’s words as she sank once more into sleep.

‘Am I dying…?’

Ilisia wished Adrian were there beside her, holding her, gently kissing her brow and lips…

Death was coming to take her away…

****

Strange occurrences in the castle grew more frequent, unsettling the servants, guards, and stewards alike.

Lady Delarose took charge of the castle.

She took Katelyn, the only one who remained healthy, and moved the administrative staff to the Delarose family’s small manor.

Most of the servants and attendants were transferred as well, leaving only a small contingent behind to care for the sick.

Of course, those who stayed were paid several times their usual wages.

Lady Delarose also suppressed the news, doing her utmost to prevent the tragic events at home from reaching the front lines and causing even more disastrous consequences…

****

One evening, the city gate’s drawbridge was lowered, and the guards saluted two young men on horseback.

Behind the young men followed several fully armed attendants.

One was the second son of the Wenser family, Simon Wenser; the other, the son of a merchant, Adrian Delarose.

Lady Delarose, Bella, and Katelyn had been waiting at the outer city gate since the afternoon.

When they saw Adrian and Simon, smiles they hadn’t worn in a long time graced their faces.

“Welcome home, brother,” Bella said, lifting her skirt to run forward and tightly embrace Adrian as he dismounted.

Katelyn was hesitant at first, the weight of managing the household for so many days having made her reserved.

“Go on, go to your brother, Katelyn,” Lady Delarose said, patting her on the back.

Katelyn took a deep breath, finally letting her composure break, and hurried toward Simon.

“Have you been eating well and putting on weight?” Simon teased, stroking Katelyn’s cheek, only to see her face contorted in anguish.

Simon, however, thought little of it, assuming Charles had been up to some mischief again and upset his sister.

He dismounted, walked over to Adrian, and bowed to the other members of the Delarose family.

Lady Delarose reached out to stroke Adrian’s back, a brilliant smile on her face that seemed at odds with her usual demeanor.

“Brother, how are things on the front?” Bella asked.

“We won,” Adrian replied.

His voice carried a hint of exhaustion.

“Really? I was worried sick while you were away!” Bella exclaimed, her face alight with excitement.

“Alright, Bella, you’ve seen your brother now.

Perhaps you can return to your etiquette lessons?” Lady Delarose said, bending down to smile at her.

“No, brother is finally back, I want to hear him tell me himself…” Bella stopped mid-sentence.

She noticed that it wasn’t just her mother; Adrian and Katelyn also wore solemn expressions.

Bella was still unaware of what had transpired at the Wenser castle, but she sensed the adults had important matters to discuss.

Sensing this, she tactfully curtsied and boarded the carriage.

“Brother,” Katelyn began, the anguish on her face impossible to conceal.

“Where are Charles and the others?” Simon asked, his gaze sweeping over the group as a faint unease began to stir within him.

“Charles, Ilisia… they… they all died of illness…” Katelyn choked out.

Simon froze, the shock on his face hardening into a mask that remained for a long moment.

“Katelyn, what did you say?” his voice shot up, trembling with disbelief.

“Why didn’t we receive any word?”

“Because… because…” Katelyn was too choked with sobs to speak.

“I feared it would affect the war effort, so I instructed them to keep the deaths a secret…” Lady Delarose added.

“And Matilda?” Simon asked.

“She did not die of illness,” Lady Delarose said.

“She was murdered.

Her body was found in her bed.

We have several suspects in custody…”

“Is that so… hah… is that so?” Simon stood stunned for a long time, as if his mind had disconnected, repeating the same phrase over and over.

Katelyn clung to Simon, her cries piercing his ears.

Simon finally snapped back to his senses.

He shoved Katelyn away, vaulted onto his horse, and galloped toward the castle like a madman.

Adrian nodded to his mother, then mounted his own horse and spurred after him.

The castle gates were open.

Servants with sorrowful faces lined both sides of the path, awaiting Simon’s return.

“Young Master, you…” the exhausted steward began as he stepped forward.

Simon paid him no mind, pushing past the steward and storming into the castle.

“Charles! Come out! Matilda! Charles! Mati… Ilisia! Come out!” Simon stumbled forward, his steps frantic.

He staggered and fell hard to the ground, but heedless of the pain, he pushed himself up on his hands and continued to scream the names of his siblings.

Only empty echoes answered him.

Simon ran upstairs, throwing open the doors to his deceased family members’ rooms one by one.

But all that met his eyes were empty chambers.

A deathly silence permeated the air.

Death came, and with a swing of its scythe, it severed the life of mortals.

Death left, and with a flick of its cloak, it failed to sever the love of the living for the dead.

It left them only with endless grief, as if urging them to hasten their own journey to hell…

“The young masters’ and ladies’ bodies are being kept in the castle cellar,” an old servant informed Simon, his voice laced with pain.

The second son of House Wenser felt his legs give way, and he collapsed to his knees.

His lips parted, but no sound escaped, only silent tears streaming down his face.

It was not until the anguish in his chest became unbearable that he finally let out a wail of despair.

His sorrowful cry echoed through the castle.

Adrian, standing behind him, also wore a mask of grief, but his mind was already working with cold clarity.

“Take me to see Ilisia,” Adrian said.

The servants nodded, took up a candelabrum, and led the way.

The cellar had no windows; only the dim candlelight offered a sliver of illumination for the servants and their visitor.

It was deep and silent, the air thick with the faint smell of dampness and dust.

Occasionally, the dull echo of a water droplet seeping from a crack in the stone wall and hitting the floor could be heard.

In a small alcove of the cellar, a coffin rested silently on a stone slab.

The coffin was crafted from dark ebony, its smooth surface gleaming with a faint, cold light, its edges inlaid with intricate gold carvings.

The lid was meticulously engraved with the Wenser family crest.

Adrian stood before the coffin in silence for a moment, then took a deep breath and slid the heavy lid aside.

Inside, Ilisia lay still.

Her complexion was so pale it was nearly translucent, like the finest porcelain, both fragile and exquisite.

Her long, silver-white hair fanned out loosely, a stark contrast to the dark velvet lining of the coffin.

Her eyes were closed, her hands folded over her chest.

The once vibrant young woman was now imprisoned in an endless slumber.

“Everyone, I would like a moment alone with her,” Adrian said.

The servants nodded, left a candlestick behind, and departed from the cellar.

Adrian sighed.

His expression was grave, but his actions were peculiar.

He pried open Ilisia’s eyelids to examine her eyes.

Then, he opened her mouth.

Adrian’s gaze shifted constantly as he surveyed the body, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind…