Kamaria
only in light
can we see our shadows
can we see our shadows
Kamaria’s boots crunched over the wet gravel as she strolled along the ocean’s edge, the sound of the sea slapping against the docks playing in the background like a song she’d forgotten the words to. She moved with purpose, but there was a kind of drifting in her steps, too. A meandering that mirrored the way her mind floated between memories. It was hard not to get lost in them here, where the air tasted of salt and fish, and the wind smelled like it had secrets to tell. Everything about this place was alive, buzzing.
Just like the stars.
But today, the stars weren’t there. Not really. She still felt them in some faraway way, a soft hum that was always present, even when she wasn’t looking. That’s how it had been, up there with her mother—Safrin always watching. It was hard to shake the feeling that you were being cradled and caged at the same time. So she’d left, of course, to come back here. Where things were messier. More… human.
She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and narrowed her eyes against the wind, scanning the market ahead. The stalls were full of life—merchants hawking their wares, children darting through the crowd, and the steady hum of people going about their business. All these lives, intersecting and continuing, as if the war hadn’t fractured the world she once knew. As if nothing had been broken.
Her heart beat faster the closer she got. Her thoughts skittered across the surface of her mind like a pebble skipping across water. What would she say when she found him? Would it be like the old days, when they’d sit together at the kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything all at once? Or had too much time passed, too many words left unsaid?
Kamaria stopped at a stall, her fingers brushing the cool, rough surface of a wooden carving—a boat, simple but beautiful in its way. For a moment, she was a kid again, helping Sunjata in their kitchen. The smell of pancakes and syrup so thick in the air it was almost tangible. His laughter—warm and full—bubbling up when he botched the flip, sending a half-cooked pancake splattering across the floor. She’d giggled right along with him, flour dusting her face like stardust, because those moments had been theirs. No gods, no war, no betrayal. Just them.
But things had changed. She had changed. The sharp edges of his betrayal had dulled over time, worn down by understanding. It had taken years of wrestling with Safrin’s honeyed lies, of untangling the webs of loyalty, love, and survival. She saw it now—his impossible choice. The war had loomed, a threat too real to ignore, and he’d acted out of love. A desperate, flawed love. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it made room for something else—something softer, like empathy.
She sighed and moved on, the crowd parting around her as she let herself feel the weight of the moment. She was almost there. Somewhere beyond the hum of voices, past the smell of baked goods and fresh fish, he was waiting. He didn’t know it yet, but he was. And so was she.
When she finally spotted him, standing by the docks with that crooked smile she remembered so well, her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t changed much, at least not on the surface—same sun-kissed skin, same easy charm. He was laughing, something soft in his expression as he playfully chastised the sea panther at his side, one hand holding a bag of pastries, the other gesturing to a merchant showing him fish.
The sight of him was like a punch to the gut. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to run and stay rooted in place all at once. The years of separation, the anger, the hurt—they all felt like distant stars now, flickering in the background but no longer burning her.
Her eyes traced the familiar tattoos on his arms—wings that had spread so wide once, carrying her, protecting her, even when she didn’t realize it.
“Dad,” she called softly, the word catching in her throat as if she hadn’t used it in years, which she hadn’t. The sound was small, almost lost in the noise of the market, but she knew he’d hear it. He always had.
Just like the stars.
But today, the stars weren’t there. Not really. She still felt them in some faraway way, a soft hum that was always present, even when she wasn’t looking. That’s how it had been, up there with her mother—Safrin always watching. It was hard to shake the feeling that you were being cradled and caged at the same time. So she’d left, of course, to come back here. Where things were messier. More… human.
She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and narrowed her eyes against the wind, scanning the market ahead. The stalls were full of life—merchants hawking their wares, children darting through the crowd, and the steady hum of people going about their business. All these lives, intersecting and continuing, as if the war hadn’t fractured the world she once knew. As if nothing had been broken.
Her heart beat faster the closer she got. Her thoughts skittered across the surface of her mind like a pebble skipping across water. What would she say when she found him? Would it be like the old days, when they’d sit together at the kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything all at once? Or had too much time passed, too many words left unsaid?
Kamaria stopped at a stall, her fingers brushing the cool, rough surface of a wooden carving—a boat, simple but beautiful in its way. For a moment, she was a kid again, helping Sunjata in their kitchen. The smell of pancakes and syrup so thick in the air it was almost tangible. His laughter—warm and full—bubbling up when he botched the flip, sending a half-cooked pancake splattering across the floor. She’d giggled right along with him, flour dusting her face like stardust, because those moments had been theirs. No gods, no war, no betrayal. Just them.
But things had changed. She had changed. The sharp edges of his betrayal had dulled over time, worn down by understanding. It had taken years of wrestling with Safrin’s honeyed lies, of untangling the webs of loyalty, love, and survival. She saw it now—his impossible choice. The war had loomed, a threat too real to ignore, and he’d acted out of love. A desperate, flawed love. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it made room for something else—something softer, like empathy.
She sighed and moved on, the crowd parting around her as she let herself feel the weight of the moment. She was almost there. Somewhere beyond the hum of voices, past the smell of baked goods and fresh fish, he was waiting. He didn’t know it yet, but he was. And so was she.
When she finally spotted him, standing by the docks with that crooked smile she remembered so well, her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t changed much, at least not on the surface—same sun-kissed skin, same easy charm. He was laughing, something soft in his expression as he playfully chastised the sea panther at his side, one hand holding a bag of pastries, the other gesturing to a merchant showing him fish.
The sight of him was like a punch to the gut. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to run and stay rooted in place all at once. The years of separation, the anger, the hurt—they all felt like distant stars now, flickering in the background but no longer burning her.
Her eyes traced the familiar tattoos on his arms—wings that had spread so wide once, carrying her, protecting her, even when she didn’t realize it.
“Dad,” she called softly, the word catching in her throat as if she hadn’t used it in years, which she hadn’t. The sound was small, almost lost in the noise of the market, but she knew he’d hear it. He always had.
and only in shadows
can we see our light
can we see our light
code credits to LovelySkylark<3!
