Theea
you lose yourself when the wind flows through your hair
you taste freedom as you fill your lungs with air
you taste freedom as you fill your lungs with air
I step up beside the old stone, fingers splayed over the moss the way he did. It’s cool to the touch, ridged with old fractures and time-worn grooves, and I wonder if someone once leaned here just like this—bracing a hand after coming home, soaked in blood or rain or both.
“Mom said death followed people like shadows in the barrier,” I murmur, my gaze tracing the line where roots have split the stone. “But it wasn’t the same thing as a curse. It just meant you were still trying, even after.”
There’s something about the way he talks—his accent is gentle and unhurried, but every so often you can hear it: the weight beneath the words. The past pressing against the back of his throat. When he mentions Vanya, then Ronin, and the way both of those stories end, I find myself looking at the moss again, not because it’s particularly interesting, but because it feels wrong to stare when someone says something like that. Ronin was brought back by my mom, sure, but I know the memory is a hard one. I’ve only heard the story twice, and... Vanya died giving birth to a child he and Ronin lost. I don't ask for that part of the story to continue.
My voice dips, quieter than the breeze rattling through the brambles. “I wish I could remember it as more than this.” There’s reverence in it and not sadness—maybe not for the ruins themselves, but for what they meant. For what was lost here, and what managed to survive anyway. I think of Vanya, and of Aoife, who I never got to meet. Of Ronin, and Remi, who are somehow still here after everything. Of my mother, and what she carried away from this place.
Then the attention tilts back to the modern-day Monster Hunter's Guild, and my lips curve up. The grin lingers a little longer when I straighten and dust off my hands. “Yeah, I accepted his offer. I want to see what it’s like. What I can be in it.” I shrug lightly, but there’s something earnest beneath the motion, something steadier than bravado. “If I can learn to fight monsters well enough, maybe I can be good enough to really help people.” I bite my lip, as if to temper the over-eager childishness. "You really think Ronin would go?"
When Remi warns me, that wry little threat, I tilt my head at him like I’m considering it seriously.
“Mmm. I won’t tell,” I say, squinting as if I’m weighing the oath. “But the boggarts might find me too charming to eat anyways.” A beat. My eyes flick to his hands still resting on the stone, then up to his face, curious. “So? What are you planning for him, exactly? I promise not to ruin the surprise. Cross my heart, hope to—get mildly mauled by some boggarts.” Another beat, a nervous glace over my shoulder. ”Are they frequent out here or something, those things? That’s the second time you mentioned one and I wouldn’t exactly call myself a ‘monster hunter’ yet.”
“Mom said death followed people like shadows in the barrier,” I murmur, my gaze tracing the line where roots have split the stone. “But it wasn’t the same thing as a curse. It just meant you were still trying, even after.”
There’s something about the way he talks—his accent is gentle and unhurried, but every so often you can hear it: the weight beneath the words. The past pressing against the back of his throat. When he mentions Vanya, then Ronin, and the way both of those stories end, I find myself looking at the moss again, not because it’s particularly interesting, but because it feels wrong to stare when someone says something like that. Ronin was brought back by my mom, sure, but I know the memory is a hard one. I’ve only heard the story twice, and... Vanya died giving birth to a child he and Ronin lost. I don't ask for that part of the story to continue.
My voice dips, quieter than the breeze rattling through the brambles. “I wish I could remember it as more than this.” There’s reverence in it and not sadness—maybe not for the ruins themselves, but for what they meant. For what was lost here, and what managed to survive anyway. I think of Vanya, and of Aoife, who I never got to meet. Of Ronin, and Remi, who are somehow still here after everything. Of my mother, and what she carried away from this place.
Then the attention tilts back to the modern-day Monster Hunter's Guild, and my lips curve up. The grin lingers a little longer when I straighten and dust off my hands. “Yeah, I accepted his offer. I want to see what it’s like. What I can be in it.” I shrug lightly, but there’s something earnest beneath the motion, something steadier than bravado. “If I can learn to fight monsters well enough, maybe I can be good enough to really help people.” I bite my lip, as if to temper the over-eager childishness. "You really think Ronin would go?"
When Remi warns me, that wry little threat, I tilt my head at him like I’m considering it seriously.
“Mmm. I won’t tell,” I say, squinting as if I’m weighing the oath. “But the boggarts might find me too charming to eat anyways.” A beat. My eyes flick to his hands still resting on the stone, then up to his face, curious. “So? What are you planning for him, exactly? I promise not to ruin the surprise. Cross my heart, hope to—get mildly mauled by some boggarts.” Another beat, a nervous glace over my shoulder. ”Are they frequent out here or something, those things? That’s the second time you mentioned one and I wouldn’t exactly call myself a ‘monster hunter’ yet.”
the time has stopped, your mind has set sail
the road is home, the stars will light the trail
the road is home, the stars will light the trail
