Theea
a lost son is called a prodigal
“I have backup plans,” I say, sounding confident… until I don’t. “Mostly. I mean—If we’re being honest, I’m lucky if I remember to bring a snack with me on a hike.” I flash a self-conscious grin and shrug. “I try to think things through, but sometimes you just… have to jump, right?”Not recklessly. Not without caring. Just... because I don’t want to miss the moment. Because hesitation’s gotten me hurt before, and going headfirst into trouble feels better than watching it from the sidelines.
Melita’s words stay with me, though. And she’s right. Especially now. With the Family gone. With the war technically over.
I think about my father—how he died not for a cause, but as a consequence. Another name lost in the fire. Another life counted in the cost. It’s been hard to let go of that. Hard to find peace in a war that took him without asking.
But I think about the nights after. The quiet ones. The way my mom would tell stories around the fire when we couldn’t sleep. The way we laughed—sometimes loud, sometimes broken—but laughed all the same. How we tried to live, even if only in fragments.
We should’ve done more of that. Maybe we’d both have healed better. Maybe we wouldn’t have had to do it apart.
I tuck those thoughts away and look back at Melita, lips twitching into something more like a smile.
“So what’s your next plan, you think? Do you have one?” I ask. “To bring Ludo’s mischief further into Caido. You’ve clearly got the credentials.”
a lost daughter is just called lost
