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 go quiet as he speaks—not just politely, but the kind of quiet that means I’m listening with every part of me. It’s different, hearing it from someone else. From someone who was there. The stories Mom told were already heavy, already thick with things she didn’t say, but this… this makes it real in a way that lodges under my ribs and doesn’t move.
There’s a part of me—some awful, morbid part—that wants to understand it better, to feel the weight of what they went through, to know it like they did. But then I think of what that would cost, and the thought makes my stomach twist. I don’t want to open a door like that. I know I don’t want to endure anything like that.
When he nods toward the ruined doorway and tells me about Ronin—about not believing it was really him, about the kiss—I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. It’s the kind of grin I try to hide behind my hand, but don’t quite succeed. “That’s so romantic it sounds fake,” I say, delighted.
It’s sweet. It’s soft. It’s the kind of story I’ll tuck away like a treasure.
As he talks more about the Guild—the warmth, the noise, the laughter—I feel something steady settle in my chest. Hope, maybe. Or maybe just… comfort. “I hope it still feels like that,” I murmur, brushing a bit of brush out of the way to look more clearly at the half-buried stones. “If there’s even a little of that left, I think I made the right choice.”
His words about boggarts, though—they do make me shiver, just a little. The thought of something that could be any frightening thing out here… I don’t like that. But I look at Remi, calm and steady and smiling faintly, and I do feel safe. I imagine being out here alone would be different. But I’m with Remi Taliesin. Boggarts shouldn’t be frightening.
And then—
Mort.
He says it like it’s normal. Like it’s a thing you can just do—ask the god of death to leave a door open. My eyes widen as he speaks, something like awe pressing behind my ribs. My mom met Mort, and he’d taken her immortality—she could never fully describe the experience to me. But I know even she spoke of it with awe.
The moment it sinks in—what it means, what he’s doing—my breath catches. “I’m going to meet her? Vai? Like really meet her.” I ask, blinking, the words so soft they barely make sound.
It hits me like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. I’ve spent so long wondering what she’d be like. What she’d say. If she’d like me. And now I’ll get to see her, for real, and just the idea of it makes my eyes sting. I open my mouth to blurt out every question all at once, but just as quickly, that brightness dims at the edges. The thought creeps in before I can stop it.
“Do you think…do you think my mom would show up? For something like that, at least?”
It slips out, quiet. And for the first time since we stepped into this place, I feel small. I miss her so suddenly it aches. My mom has been hiding from everything... Would she hide from a chance to make things right with her own mom?
There’s a part of me—some awful, morbid part—that wants to understand it better, to feel the weight of what they went through, to know it like they did. But then I think of what that would cost, and the thought makes my stomach twist. I don’t want to open a door like that. I know I don’t want to endure anything like that.
When he nods toward the ruined doorway and tells me about Ronin—about not believing it was really him, about the kiss—I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. It’s the kind of grin I try to hide behind my hand, but don’t quite succeed. “That’s so romantic it sounds fake,” I say, delighted.
It’s sweet. It’s soft. It’s the kind of story I’ll tuck away like a treasure.
As he talks more about the Guild—the warmth, the noise, the laughter—I feel something steady settle in my chest. Hope, maybe. Or maybe just… comfort. “I hope it still feels like that,” I murmur, brushing a bit of brush out of the way to look more clearly at the half-buried stones. “If there’s even a little of that left, I think I made the right choice.”
His words about boggarts, though—they do make me shiver, just a little. The thought of something that could be any frightening thing out here… I don’t like that. But I look at Remi, calm and steady and smiling faintly, and I do feel safe. I imagine being out here alone would be different. But I’m with Remi Taliesin. Boggarts shouldn’t be frightening.
And then—
Mort.
He says it like it’s normal. Like it’s a thing you can just do—ask the god of death to leave a door open. My eyes widen as he speaks, something like awe pressing behind my ribs. My mom met Mort, and he’d taken her immortality—she could never fully describe the experience to me. But I know even she spoke of it with awe.
The moment it sinks in—what it means, what he’s doing—my breath catches. “I’m going to meet her? Vai? Like really meet her.” I ask, blinking, the words so soft they barely make sound.
It hits me like a wave, sudden and overwhelming. I’ve spent so long wondering what she’d be like. What she’d say. If she’d like me. And now I’ll get to see her, for real, and just the idea of it makes my eyes sting. I open my mouth to blurt out every question all at once, but just as quickly, that brightness dims at the edges. The thought creeps in before I can stop it.
“Do you think…do you think my mom would show up? For something like that, at least?”
It slips out, quiet. And for the first time since we stepped into this place, I feel small. I miss her so suddenly it aches. My mom has been hiding from everything... Would she hide from a chance to make things right with her own mom?
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
