Page 88 of Storm

We meet everyone in a large outdoor dining area with rows upon rows of long wooden tables the length of two or three fae cottages. The table tops look to be cut from one continuous slab of trunk. Fae and miniature winged creatures of different colours sit around chatting animatedly, the winged ones perched on shoulders and fluttering between tables. There’s a denser canopy over this area, vines woven tight, shielding diners from the elements above.

Everything within the Willow appears to be separated by some form of nature, a deliberate partition, much like the vines the fae used to keep Melek imprisoned between the kelpies.

A large grassy field where children are running after a ball joins onto this one. The atmosphere is jubilant.

Dotted next to the odd fae are small groups of humans, which shouldn’t surprise me. Nevertheless, it does. How many of them have brown eyes? It hurts my heart to think of my brother, knowing I won’t find him here.

Find me in your heart where we are equals. The words are a drum as I pass by brown eyes of differing hues—more than I’ve seen since leaving the lightning factory.

As we walk, I take in the beauty of the low-hanging vines, peach flowers blooming overhead, and above that, small sections where a brilliant, unobstructed blue sky shines through. Utterly surreal. This forest. The beauty. The colour.

Sera leads us towards a table in the middle, where I see Sunny sitting and eating a large bowl of what looks like ice cream. He gobbles a particularly big bite, his eyes larger than his stomach. Full-cheeked, he looks up, spotting us, and instantly jumps up from his chair.

Alight with wonder, he shouts at the top of his lungs, after a strained gulp, “Mama. Papa!” His scruffy dark brown hair, which I refuse to cut because it looks too much like Melek’s, drops in falling waves, and he brushes it out of his eyes as he bolts for us, weaving past fae and humans. My husband crouches down beside me, still firmly grasping my hand, and our son flies into his arms at breakneck speeds.

Melek’s happiness runs deep. “I missed you, son.”

Sunny pulls back. “You can talk again?”

I brush the hair out of our wild child’s face. “Yes. I fixed him.” I snicker.

Melek gives me a just wait until later glare. With my body newly healed, the thought of him remarking me has desire solidifying my veins. It’s still infuriating, the way my body reacts so quickly to him.

Releasing me from his hold for a second, he swings Sunny onto his shoulders—our son’s favourite way to travel—and we walk over to the table together, hand in hand. My mind is mush at how perfect this moment is. I keep my mouth shut in case I jinx it. Some fae give us curious smiles as we pass, but mostly, no one pays us any mind.

“Finally,” Ren mutters through a mouthful of fruit. The glint of silver and gold rings catches my attention. “He was two bites away from running back to the cottage, and I was afraid for his tiny eyes.”

“Oh, Renfir.” Sera takes the seat beside him, giving his shoulder a playful tap. Melek, Sunny, and I sit opposite ‌them.

Ren passes Sunny’s food over to him, and he shares a bite with Melek and me. The strange, fruity taste leaves a delicious, sweetly sour flavour on my tongue. I’m about to ask how I can get some of the peculiar food when a group of fae appear, depositing more ceramic bowls on our table, as well as an assorted plate of freshly cooked breads.

“Whenever you’re hungry, just sit down. Our chefs will bring the daily offerings to your table.”

“That’s all?” Pitchers of crystalline lemon water follow.

“That’s all. Everyone has their job in the Willow. We are equal. We all play our part. We have wise men and women who help guide our community. Ultimately, we are responsible for each and every living being under this canopy. We are family.”

His words hit some unknown yearning force inside of me. They are a family. They are in this together.‌ It’s not creature-eat-creature. Weakest versus the strongest. Here, they simply care because it’s the easier option.

This is it, Nix. You were right. It pains me to think how he would have delighted in this beautiful world. Mam too. We would’ve thrived instead of spending our lives working to die.

Looking past Ren, rows upon rows of people mingle happily together. A blue-shaded woman with teal hair gestures spiritedly towards a human man with mid-length, sun-kissed brunette hair. There’s a moment where my eyes dart away, just an instant before I’m drawn back to watch as he grins at her story, a white scar prominent on his left cheek…

With that simple noticing, everything inside me goes cold, that mark on his skin flashing to the brother I lost over a decade ago. I rub ‌my eyes, unsure of their truthfulness. When I look again, I find a set of shimmering browns taking me in. Surprise. It settles in my bones. That face looking back at me is the sole reason I’m here. Fight. My lifeline. Pain etched into every crevice of age highlights weather-worn skin. Surely, many humans share this colour, especially in this place. My mind tries to trick me out of what I’m seeing again.

What I don’t expect is this man with those soul-destroying irises and scarred cheek to stand on top of the table he’s eating at. A human man wearing simple forest green pants, a matching vest, and a cream blouse. He’s clean—way too clean for the person I remember.

Involuntarily, my body rises of its own accord, like a beacon finding its safe harbour amidst the onslaught of anguish over the last twelve years.

His hair, so different in length, throws me, but then he smiles the most welcoming smile. One of home. My home. My family. Scar striking on his left cheek, I gasp. Knowing. Seeing. Understanding.

My heart can’t find purchase.

People are talking to me. Little hands pull my dress. All I can see is him.

And he says the words. The ones that destroyed me. The ones that kept me standing. The sweetest sound known to man. The sweetest poetry that filled our family with so much love.

“And if you should ever forget.” He projects his voice, walking in a straight line towards my table. Though we have at least two separating us, he scales one at a time, the fae happily making way for him, like this sort of outburst is a daily occurrence in this land, admissions of love ostentatiously given instead of hidden away.