Ascension Of The Villain

Vyan wheeled Aster out through the backdoor of the manor. The sky above was a canvas of grays, the sun absent. In other words, it was a perfect day for bringing Aster outside without overwhelming him.

Vyan tried to bring him out two days ago as well, but the mere sunshine freaked him out like they were some sort of killer beams. And yesterday was so sunny that it was blinding for even normal people. So, today Vyan was trying again. He had to get Aster used to the sun, otherwise, his legs would never find strength in them to stand up again.

But at the same time, he couldn't rush Aster. Baby steps were alright. As long as they were stepping towards progress.

"How is it?" Vyan started, forcing himself to sound upbeat and cheerful. "The clouds, the breeze, the, um, I don't know, the trees? The flower gardens–oh, wait, you don't like flowers. What else? Um…" He whipped his head around, trying to find something that might interest Aster. "We have got our knights on the other side of the manor.

You know, the people who protect us? I am sure you remember Sir Jacques, Spencer, and…"

Benedict and Clyde were following a few steps behind, each carrying a bouquet of pale purple aster flowers.

"Goodness, he is trying so hard. It's painful to watch," Benedict sighed lowly.

Clyde chuckled. "I think it's rather amusing to see him stumbling around."

"If he stumbles around like that with Lady Iyana, forget us having a grand duchess anytime soon," Benedict expressed in worry.

"Pfft," Clyde snorted, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Vyan glanced over his shoulder, shooting glares at the two men. "I can hear you people, did you know that?"

Benedict remained unaffected, and Clyde flashed him a beaming smile with a thumbs up.

Vyan shook his head, exasperated, and turned his attention back to Aster.

Aster's eyes were wide and unfocused as he tracked the path ahead with a vague sense of interest. Vyan kept talking, pointing out the smallest things as they strolled. "See those trees? There used to be a swing over there. Vee and you would play there, remember?"

That part got Aster's attention. He nodded his head slightly, a faint smile on his lips.

Happy to get a reaction, Vyan continued to chat away, filling the air with a string of stories and idle chatter, a lifeline of normalcy cast toward his brother's fractured mind.

As they reached the huge gates at the back side of the estate, Benedict motioned something at them, and soon, the gates were opened, which made Aster watch in awe.

They strolled further out the back, Vyan filling the silence with chatters until they were faced with a cemetery. "This place looks absolutely beautiful when the weather is sunny. There are birds and cicadas singing. It always sounds so pleasant to the ear. I will bring you one of those times."

"You forgot to mention the fireflies," Clyde chimed in from behind.

"Oh, right, yes! Fireflies," Vyan grinned. "Soon, we should be getting fireflies around here. I bet it's going to be beautiful. I will bring you—"

"Daphne…" Aster uttered, and Vyan paused. "Daphne loves the fireflies."

"Really? You brought her here often?" Vyan asked softly, a melancholic look in his eyes, and Aster nodded. "Did you guys go to the lake nearby too?"

"Yes…"

While the two brothers talked, Clyde nudged Benedict and whispered, "Who is Daphne?"

"Master Aster's betrothed," Benedict answered, a dark shadow crossing his face, "Well, I suppose I should say former betrothed. She finally got married five years ago."

"Finally?" Clyde arched an eyebrow.

"She had known and loved Master Aster for as long as she could remember; it was hard for her to accept his death. So, she resisted getting married for years, but I suppose she was forced into it once her brother took over as the head of the house. And…" Benedict gazed at Vyan's back with a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "Never mind."

Clyde noticed the slight change in Benedict's attitude but didn't question it. "I suppose not every love story has a happy ending."

Benedict sighed heavily and looked ahead at Vyan who had stopped the wheelchair just outside the wrought-iron gate in front of them.

It was an old, solemn place tucked far back from the estate grounds, where stone markers stood like tired sentinels in the quiet gloom.

"So we are here," Clyde murmured under his breath.

Vyan turned and took the bouquets from Clyde and Benedict, their delicate petals a stark contrast to the bleakness around them. He walked back to Aster and kneeled in front of him with a soft smile.

"Look, Ash," Vyan said, his voice lifting with a pathetic effort at cheerfulness, "Aster flowers. I know you don't like them, but—"

"They are Mother and Father's favorites," Aster muttered, staring at the flowers, then at Vyan, his expression unfathomable.

"Yes!" Vyan's eyes lit up a little. "Would you like to give it to them?" His words were gentle, his smile easy, but his eyes carried a deep, unspoken heaviness.

A moment of silence stretched between them, as if Aster was somewhere far away, having a conversation no one else could hear. Slowly, a small smile formed on his lips—innocent, pure, unburdened by the weight of reality. He reached out and, with a childlike earnestness, handed the flowers over to the empty air in front of him.

Vyan's smile softened, a bittersweet mix of pride and pain. "That's good enough, Ash," he murmured, taking the flowers from the air as if accepting a sacred offering, his hand brushing with Aster's, but this time, Aster didn't flinch away from the touch. He stood up and motioned to Benedict. "Take him back inside, please."

Benedict nodded, his face carefully neutral, and gently took the handles of Aster's wheelchair, guiding him away.

Vyan watched them go, the ache in his chest tightening. He knew he couldn't take Aster inside; the reality of this place would be too much, too cruel for his fragile brother to face. Aster's delusions, however haunting, were safer than that truth.

Turning toward the iron gate, Vyan took a deep breath, steeling himself.

He had thought about coming here with Aster this year, had thought he didn't have to do this alone. But it seemed like Goddess Hecate herself wanted him to face it alone—seeing the tombstones of his parents on their death anniversary.

The death anniversary brought a storm of emotions he wasn't sure how to navigate. Although he did know that it was more intense than his emotions last year. This time around he felt more connected and attached to them. In fact, he could truly feel the loss of their presence and mourn it.

Clyde moved to follow him, but Vyan held up a hand. "No, Clyde. I need to do this alone." His voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed a glimmer of something more—fear, maybe, or the grief of a child who never properly got to mourn the death of his parents. "I have finally mustered up the courage after all this time, so... I want to be alone with them."

Clyde hesitated, concern creasing his brow, but he relented with a nod. "Okay, but holler if you need me, alright?"

Vyan gave him a small, grateful smile. "Will do."

With that, he turned and stepped through the cemetery gate, the cold iron closing behind him with a soft click. He walked down the narrow path, the bouquets in hand.

As he moved deeper into the cemetery, he felt the familiar swell of grief rise within him. He almost felt dizzy with the overwhelming emotions of anxiety and uneasiness. But today, he chose to face it, one step at a time, finally ready to meet his past.

As Vyan walked deeper into the cemetery, his footsteps grew heavier. Each step sank into the damp earth like the memories pressing against his chest. The graves he passed were marked with the same surname—Ashstone—etched into the stone, each of them a reminder of a legacy that he had only recently begun to understand.

Some of the names were familiar, from stories he barely remembered; others were strangers, distant relatives who had lived and died long before he was born.

It felt like walking through a gallery of ghosts, just like the hallway filled with the pictures of his ancestors.

Finally, he stopped in front of two gravestones that stood side by side, their inscriptions weathered but still clear: Xandres Kevin Ashstone and Natalia Audrey Ashstone. Vyan's breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the names—his parents' names.

Beside theirs used to be another one with Aster's name, which was recently removed from there.

The sudden rush of emotions crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he sank to his knees, his body trembling. The bouquets slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, but he quickly picked them up, placing one gently in front of each stone. He touched both of their tombstones with each hand, tracing the coldness.

"Hello… Mother and Father," he greeted with a broken smile, his throat trembling, almost choking with tears stinging his eyes. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How have you been?"

———

Meanwhile, as Benedict strolled Aster back towards the estate, Aster suddenly murmured something inaudible.

"Pardon me, Master Aster, I was unable to hear you. If you could kindly repeat," Benedict urged, his tone neutral yet soft.

"That… that man… is warm…" Aster whispered gravelly. Find adventures on m v l e m p y r

"Yes, he is a warm person once you get to know him, isn't he?" Benedict responded gently.

"No… his hand was warm… no, hot…" Aster clarified.

Benedict frowned in confusion for a moment before the realization slowly dawned on him. "Master must have a fever."

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