It was a small church.
Darius's grandparents were outside, greeting the guests.
My mother and Roxanne went ahead. I stayed a few steps behind.
The grandmother lit up when she saw my mother.
"Elizabeth! How wonderful to see you here! Thank you so much for coming!"
"The pleasure is ours," my mother replied. "Thank you for letting us be a part of this."
Then the grandmother noticed Roxanne and pulled her into a hug.
"I'm so glad you could come too, dear."
"Please don't thank me. I'm so sorry for your loss. Even though I didn't get to know Darius that well, I know he was a wonderful person."
I was still standing behind them, not moving.
Darius's grandfather was farther away, talking with someone. He had a respirator on.
I had seen him before without one.
The guilt crushed my chest. His condition had gotten worse. And Darius had died before he could help him. Because of me.
"Look, there's Blake Thornveil. He was the only survivor of that incident."
The voice came from somewhere in the crowd gathered outside.
"He must be incredibly strong. He probably inherited his father's gifts."
"But if he was that strong, why did the other members of his group die?"
"He's only sixteen. He obviously has a lot to learn."
"Hey, he's looking over here."
"Should we ask for a photo?"
"I don't think this is the right moment. Besides, I think he was close friends with Darius."
Every comment was a needle. I felt filthier with each one.
"Blake? Is that really you?"
The grandmother had spotted me.
She came over and hugged me before I could react — with a strength I hadn't expected from someone her size.
"You have no idea how glad I am that you're alright, dear. If something had happened to you too, I don't know how I would have borne it."
I went completely still. My arms didn't move. No words came.
"When did you wake up? Last I heard, you were still unconscious."
"He only woke up today," my mother answered for me.
"What? Really? Then what is he doing here! He should be resting!"
"I suppose he couldn't miss saying goodbye to his best friend."
The grandmother looked at me directly.
"Is that true, Blake?"
I didn't answer.
"Blake... Are you alright? You look very pale."
"I-I'm sorry," the words came out broken. "I really am. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"Sweetheart, it's alright. You're processing so much right now. But I want you to know — you are very brave. Being here shows just how much you truly cared for him."
Then the bells rang.
~ ~ ~
I sat in one of the last pews, between my mother and Roxanne.
Darius's grandmother stood before everyone and spoke, her voice steady despite everything.
"Darius was not the strongest boy," she began. "Nor the fastest, nor the sharpest. But he had something few people have: a heart too big to contain."
She paused for a moment.
"He made us a promise. He swore he would become a sentinel to pay for his grandfather's medical treatment. We begged him not to. We told him it wasn't worth the risk. But Darius was not the kind of person who walked away from his word."
Her voice barely cracked on the last word, but she held herself together.
"And that, more than anything else, is what he leaves behind. Not his absence... but the example of what it truly means to be committed to the people you love."
I don't belong here.
I can't.
I don't deserve to be here.
Was it just me, or was it too hot in there? My shirt clung to my skin. My leg started bouncing and I couldn't stop it.
"What's wrong with you?" Roxanne murmured. "You're acting really strange."
I didn't answer. Everything was blurring together — every memory I had of him, and the terrible way it all ended.
"I have no right to be here," I murmured. "I killed him. It's my fault."
"What are you saying?"
I stood up.
I walked out.
I don't know how many people saw me. It didn't matter. I pushed through a side door and kept going without any direction until my legs carried me to a nearby square, where I dropped onto a bench.
The air outside was cold. I was grateful for it.
A while later, I heard footsteps.
"Blake, we finally found you. What happened to you?"
My mother. Behind her, Darius's grandparents and Roxanne.
"Nothing... I just started feeling sick and needed air. I'm sorry for leaving like that. It was disrespectful."
The grandmother shook her head.
"Not at all. Roxanne told us you said something about it being your fault he died. About that... I just want you to know that it is not your fault, alright? These things happen, and—"
"It is," I interrupted her. "I know it is."
Silence.
"I don't have any clear memory of what happened," I continued. "But I know. I can feel that it's my fault. Something inside me tells me so."
"People are always going to say many things," she interrupted me gently. "And you should never give them weight. We know you. We know what kind of person you are. And that is what matters."
She sat down beside me.
"I want you to let go of that guilt completely. Death is part of the natural cycle of life. That's why what matters is cherishing people while they're still here, because you never know when they might be gone."
"That's also why we wanted to give you something."
She looked up toward the grandfather, who walked over slowly with his respirator and something in his hands.
Darius's dagger.
I froze.
"H-how did you get it?"
"It was the only thing the sentinels were able to recover from him," the grandmother replied. "And we wanted you to have it. That way, you can carry him with you wherever you go."
"No... I can't keep it."
"Of course you can. I'm certain that's what Darius would have wanted. And as long as you have it, he'll still be with you."
I shook my head. I couldn't. I had no right.
Then the grandfather spoke. His voice was slow, rough from the respirator, but every word landed with a weight I couldn't ignore.
"Blake... I forged that dagger myself, years ago. Especially for Darius. It's far stronger than any other blade. It has never needed to be restored. It looks exactly as it did on day one."
He looked at the dagger for a moment before going on.
"I know very well that a long and difficult road lies ahead of you. Just as one lay ahead of Darius. But he used that dagger to protect what mattered most to him. Us. Now it's your turn. What matters most to you? This dagger, while it stays with you, will protect you until the very end."
I looked at him. Then I looked at the dagger.
Did I really deserve to have it?
With hands that wouldn't quite stop trembling, I took it.
"Thank you," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'll keep it. And I'll take care of it as best I can."
I said nothing more.
Because what I was really thinking was that the only person who deserved that dagger was no longer here.
And it was my fault.