“Fish and fair meet afoul,” the tiny pixie answered in a sing-songy voice, then her eyes seemed to clear a bit. “Goran visits from time to time. He hoped you would come, eventually.”
Me?
“Why?” the word barely escaped her stiff lips.
“He has atonements to make.” The elder furrowed her brow. “No. Not atonements. He needs to fix something.” She glanced at the chair before the food. “I talk to him. You don’t.” A beat, then, “Oh, be quiet, do.”
Gwen glanced between the pixie and the empty chair. “May I… I hate to ask but…”
Before she could get out the rest of her request, the elder leaned forward and blew out the candle on the table. Impossibly, the entire room went as dark as a cave, every single fire and candle out, but the windows also…gone.
It was the kind of dark that could spread through you like the poison from a wraith, but Gwen was a moon pixie. She lived in the darkness in order to find her light.
Seven hells, she brought her own light.
To her, this dark wasn’t malicious. Not like when the wraiths had come for them. This was a comforting sort of warmth that held you and whispered to trust, but also to be brave.
Brave.
Her mother had told her that, with a face pinched with worry. To be brave.
“No matter what happens—” The elder’s voice sounded all around her, like they were in a hollow cave. “Do not look at me and do not leave your seat. Understand?”
Stomach twisting, Gwen nodded. “Yes.”
A new flame of a purer light ignited, and she found they were still at the same table, but with a different candle and no food or room around them. Just the table and chairs in a pool of impenetrable darkness. She couldn’t even see the chair across from her.
Movement to her left, where the spirit pixie sat tried to draw her gaze, but Gwen stiffened her neck, refusing to look.
Elder said don’t look. No matter what.
As if the candle was rewarding her for listening to instructions, the flame grew taller, and the light moved outward, bringing the rest of the table and the other empty chair into view.
And in the chair sat Goran.
Gwen gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. She had no idea what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this.
He looked…real. Solid, and healthy, and perfect.
And as young as he had been the last time she’d seen him.
“Goran,” she croaked his name, tears stinging the backs of her eyes and clogging her throat. “Is it really you?”
He smiled, that crooked, goofy smile that was all his, his brown eyes warm. “Hi, Gwennie-penny.”
For the first time in her entire life, she loved hearing that ridiculous nickname from him. Instinct and an overwhelming need to hug her brother had her twitching to get up, only he jerked out a hand, fear crossing his features. “Don’t move.”
Oh. Right. Don’t look left. Don’t get out of the chair.
She forced herself to settle back, her gaze skating over features so dear her heart tumbled and soared and ached all at the same time, just at the sight of him. “Hi, Goran.”
Seeming to relax a bit, like she’d passed another test, Goran’s smile returned, even wider.
Gwen swallowed again. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His expression didn’t dim, exactly, but turned more peaceful and yet serious somehow. “Me, too. We don’t have much time.”
They didn’t? Her heart lurched, sadness trying to creep into the moment and steal the joy of seeing his face away from her. If they didn’t have much time, then…