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“I am not trying to trick you. I am not tricking you, as trying removes all meaning from the line. Even Pollux in his moment of panic for your suffering asked you to take the leap.”
“The…leap?” My heart skips a beat. “Off the island in my dream? Why could you see into my dream?”
Castor’s breath coasts across my ear. “Because, I had to let him in so you could bring him here.”
“Why do you need Pollux here?”
He chuckles. “What makes you think I need Pollux?”
In the next moment, a crash forces me to instinctively open my eyes.
Magic beats into my skull as the vague outlines of the room, a door off its hinges, and a woman I’ve only seen in one picture appear. Furious, Pila’s eyes are fixed behind me, over my head.
“Daddy!” Andromeda shrieks from where she’s standing in a pool of misty world. “Be careful. Castor doesn’t have his blindfold on!”
“I know,” Pila says, voice wavering as though it’s both here, and not.
Everything around me, everything inside me, feels half real.
Castor swears, releasing me. His weight fumbles off the bed as he swears again, louder.
“What happened?” Pollux fights past branches filling the doorway and holds his gaze low. “Meda. Kassandra. Are you both well?”
His voice settles the pain inside. It…ebbs.
Pollux lifts his arm, hand open, shaking. “Can you come toward my voice?”
I stare at him, the openness of his stance, the fear he’s expressing when fear is all he has known for so long.
“Please.” His voice breaks. “Please tell me you’re well.”
Standing before me is someone who loves me. For me. Encompassing whatever I am now, and whatever I will become.
Tension pours out of my limbs as clarity streams from him, painting solidity into the world. My repressed fears calm. The subdued moments of my childhood—all the pieces that I locked up—ease gently into the forefront of my mind.
When the world once rejected who I was, now I accept that this is who I am.
Too much for too many.
But the perfect amount for some.
“I’m well,” I say.
Warm relief fills him. Then he growls, “Did Castor hurt you or Meda?”
Castor, currently, is crumpled in the corner by the bed in this lavish, dark room. Curled up on himself, he swears, apologizes, and grips his fists in his long hair.
“Um,” I offer. “No. I don’t think so. Are you…doing something to him, Pollux?”
Filling her chest with air, Pila marches. “He is not,” she states when she stops above Castor.
Castor goes quiet, then hisses, “You…”
“I’m well.”
“But I…”
Pila hums, cheerily, an instant before the sound of flesh hitting flesh echos in my ears.
