Her sister’s joy at the discovery is nearly palpable, expressed in the sudden burst of lights that glitter around them like the night sky. For a moment, she knows happiness for her sister, for the fruition of a dream she has so long held. But knowledge is a devil in her mind, and she cannot remain beneath the sway of her joy for more than a moment.
She had not come here with joyful news, but, for a moment, she is happy she can give Luster that much at least. She does not know that it will truly soften the edge of the truth however.
Are you sure? she asks, though Heartfire does not respond. She doesn’t need to. She had shown her the truth already, even if it takes her a moment to fully believe. Her words cut at her, more than she had expected. But it is no more than she deserves. She has never run from anything in her life, and she would not be a coward now. No matter how much she might wish to escape the purity of Luster’s brief happiness or the unwitting sharpness of her words.
“It wasn’t a dream,” she replies almost gently, a heavy certainty in the words. Perhaps she cannot be privy to her dreams, but she knows without a doubt that whatever she recalls in such a dream-like haze must be memories shrouded by the accidental clumsiness of a magician.
It is her last question that is the worst, however. No matter that she knew it was coming, a part of her wishes she could escape its inevitability. There is confusion framing that simple question, a plea for completion of her long-held dream. A dream that would break apart the moment she admitted her culpability in this entire mess. The moment she admitted she is reason he is not here with her now.
She isn’t entirely certain she can explain it all either. He had been free to leave her (to return to this life) for a long time now. Even if his memories were as Luster’s, surely he must be curious. He had remembered other pieces of his life she knows. But she hadn’t been brave enough to ask why.
She isn’t sure she wishes to know the answer anyway.
She is silent too long after the question, as she tries to piece together the answers her sister would no doubt seek. When she finally does respond, her voice is soft, barely more than a breath. But, to her own ears, it feels as a gunshot in the air. “Yes.”
i see your sins
and i want to set them free
