The Bigshot's Superstar Wife

Chapter 63: Worry Not (Special Chapter)

Devancier’s heart swelled with love for her. She was so much like her mother, so strong, so full of grace.

He kissed the top of her head, feeling a pang of longing for the woman who had once held them together as a family.

"I know you will," he whispered.

They walked together to the royal chambers, where the ashes of Alishiera were placed in a memorial.

Devancier made sure the swords, Arthivian and Elsienflora, were placed beside it.

They were the last remaining link to her, the last physical remnants of the woman who had once been so full of life, of love, and of hope.

As the days passed, Devancier threw himself into the work of ruling the empire.

But even in the quiet moments, when he stood alone, looking out over the lands he had fought to protect, he couldn’t escape the emptiness that consumed him.

He had tried so hard to save her, to protect her, and yet, in the end, it was her sacrifice that saved him, that saved the empire.

And now, without her, he was left with only the weight of the crown, the weight of responsibility, and the weight of grief.

He would never forget her, never stop loving her.

And in the quiet moments of reflection, he often found himself talking to her in his heart, wishing she could still hear him, wishing they could still share the moments they had dreamed of together.

But there was no going back.

Alishiera was gone, and all that was left was the life they had built together, the empire they had fought for, and their children who would one day inherit the world she had saved.

Devancier would live for them. He would honor her memory. He would be the man she had always believed him to be.

The saintess stood beside her brother, her expression a mixture of respect and understanding.

"We will carry on what you and Mother began," she added softly. "But we also wish for you to find the peace you deserve. Worry not about the empire, it is in good hands."

Devancier’s heart swelled with pride as he looked at his children, the two people he had fought so hard to protect.

They had grown into strong, compassionate leaders, and he knew that the empire would be safe in their care.

They had inherited their mother’s kindness and their father’s resolve, a perfect balance that would guide them well.

With a final look at the empire he had once ruled, Devancier turned to leave. His eyes lingered on the swords that had been passed down to his children, Arthivian and Elsienflora.

They were more than mere weapons, they were symbols of his wife’s love and sacrifice, and now, they were in the hands of the ones who would carry on her legacy.

He knew they would honor the swords as they had always honored their parents’ memory.

"The swords belong to you now," he said softly, his voice filled with both pride and sorrow. "May they guide you, as they once guided us."

And then, without another word, he walked away. Some whispered that he had gone in search of his wife, that he had never truly let her go.

Others said he was still lost in his grief, unable to face the world without her. But Devancier knew the truth.

He had followed her into the afterlife, in spirit if not in body. His journey had ended, and now it was his children’s turn to lead.

As the crown prince and the saintess stood together, watching their father’s retreating figure, they knew that their path had just begun.

They would lead the empire, yes, but they would also carry the memory of their parents with them.

Their mother’s strength, their father’s sacrifice, and the love that had bound them together through life and death, it was all part of their legacy now.