Eternal Night

(II) Chapter 17: A Precarious Path

The family plot on the de Chacier estate was one of the few places Frankie tended to avoid on her annual summer visits to her uncle's home. This was not because the graves of those dearly departed served as an unpleasant reminder that even the nosferatu were not truly immune to death; but rather because seeing the names of her father, mother, and now her aunt carved into the stone – to her it was a testament that the consequences of her actions – great or small – had the potential to reach far beyond her own person and that responsibility was crushing.

Any reassurances offered by friends or surviving family did little to relieve her of the weight of the deceased.

Survivor's guilt is what Lyra often called it – a prettily coined phrase designed to lessen the burden of the dead for those who lived on, as if putting such feelings into neat, compartmentalized boxes would somehow ease her suffering. But historically speaking, Francesca's conscience had rarely ever been a thing so easily placated – particularly when she felt directly accountable for the loss of a loved one.

It had taken her nearly half a century to forgive herself for the murder of her parents, to acknowledge and metabolize the irrefutable fact that their deaths had not been her fault, that Augustine's men would have found her sooner or later and that the body count could have been far worse than it had been. Sometimes, her brother had often reminded her, bad things just happen to good people. Sometimes the innocent are the ones who suffer the consequences of the guilty. It's not fair, but life rarely ever is.

It was that brand of tough love Frankie found herself often needing in moments like these, and while the truth had never been a bitter pill she enjoyed swallowing, she counted herself lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people that loved her enough to hold her to a higher standard. The pain would eventually pass – centuries of experience had taught her as much. She just needed to allow herself to feel, to heal, and to move on as the others in her family had.

Armand's strength as he stood at her side was helping Frankie in dealing with the culpability she was still experiencing and when she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, not once did he ever utter a word of rebuke or blame. As he had always been with his niece, Armand de Chacier was calm, patient, and attentive.

Frankie made it a point to study the marble busts of her parents first before finally permitting her gaze to fall upon the one of her Aunt Cecilia. Once more, Gigi had captured the likeness to perfection and it sent a faint shiver through the woman as she locked eyes with the statue perched at the top of the grave marker of her uncle's late wife. The small plot of land was nestled in a grove of trees at the far end of the garden closest to the woods at the base of the mountains. With the sun setting in the sky, the hues of light made the white stone appear almost painted with brilliant pinks and violet.

Countesse Giovanna Cecilia de Chacier
1689 – 2132
Beloved wife, mother, and aunt

"I think Marceau is still upset with me for going into stasis before the funeral," she said at last, conscious of her uncle's gaze as he moved to stand closer at her side. Frankie wrapped her arms around herself, the soft breeze rustling the canopy of leaves above them. "Not that I blame him. I should have been there."

"Yes," Armand agreed. "But we cannot undo the past... as much as we may wish to. What is done is done." There was no trace of malice or resentment in his tone, only resignation.

"I am sorry for leaving like I did when I was last here. It was just so hard, facing all of you."

"I know, chère. I know," and he gently patted her back once before allowing his hand to return to his side. "We all understood your reason for leaving – even Marceau. Though I'd be lying if I said we weren't all disappointed by your absence. You were sorely missed."