Grief does not end.
It changes shape.
Sometimes it sings. Sometimes it screams.
Sometimes—it simply lingers.
A mother sang lullabies to a grave.
A knight woke in sweat, fighting battles already lost.
A healer gave her final miracle to a stranger—
Because she could not save her own child.
I carved these for them.
The Withering Song — for those who remember too well.
The Endless Bell — for those who cannot sleep without suffering.
The Seraph's Tear — for the rarest ones, who still try to heal.
The Mask of the Ashen King — for those who hunt in someone else's name.
I could not save them.
But I could remember them.