Page 8 of Embers to Flames

“Hang on tight!” he says.

Before I can respond, my feet are off the ground, and we are one with the wind. Theo wraps his arms tightly around me, but I don’t dare open my eyes. All I feel is the pressure of those arms. All I want to feel are his thick firm arms. All I want to smell is his scent.

I can feel his heartbeat as we glide through the clouds. Each thump in sync with the flaps of his wings as he lifts us higher. We could have been falling instead of flying and I wouldn’t have cared. It is surprising to feel such warmth even against the coolness of the evening air. The world’s noises fade into a hushed silence, punctuated only by that rhythmic whoosh of his wings slicing through the air.

I’m not even sure how long we have been flying before he slowly lowers us down, descending in front of Meemaw’s cottage. As our feet are once again one with the land, he hesitates to let go of me. He takes one hand and brushes loose hair from the front of my face, tucking it behind my ear. His otherhand is still on the small of my back. I take a deep breath and look up into those golden eyes.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.” He says with a grin.

We stand there for a long moment. Only staring at each other. I catch myself in the daze and shake my mind free from it, taking a step backwards so he is forced to remove his hands from my body.

“Thank you. For flying me home I mean.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

I take a step backwards towards Meemaw’s front door. Theo takes a step backwards as well, not taking his eyes from my own. Then his wings unfurl, each feather shimmering with an ethereal luster that could outshine the finest silks. Suddenly he shoots into the air and blends in with the clouds.

I stand there for much longer than I should have, gawking up at the sky before the fact that he won’t be returning finally sinks in.

Meemaw is in her kitchen when I walk in. Stirring a pot of what smells like squirrel and potato stew over the hearth. I stand with my back against the door for a moment, still gathering my bearings after having had none up in the sky. I must be smiling because Meemaw stares at me with a perplexed look on her face.

“What is it dear? What’s happened that’s got you so happy?”

My eyes stay fixated on the ceiling. Staring at the many planters and branches that hang from the rafters. Floras that Meemaw uses in numerous ways. From salves for wounds to spices for stews. She keeps it reasonably warm inside despite the whistle of air that can be heard sneaking its way through the cracks and crevices of the walls. This cottage is where I grew up and it will always feel like home. No matter where I lay my head at night.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you Meemaw.”

I glide towards the table and sit down as she sets a bowl of stew before me. I blow off the steam and take a bite.

“It’s hot…” She starts, but I barely notice as I slurp at the broth, still too transfixed about what had just happened only a few moments ago.

“Alright now… you had better start talking missy.” She persists as she places a plate of her famous honey butter biscuits on the table before me. I grab one and tell her of Theodas and his wings and the flight over.

“Oh my!” She exclaims once I was finished. “Is he handsome?”

“Meemaw!” I cry with embarrassment. I can feel the heat in my cheeks. “You know it’s not allowed. Humans and Elves. It’s never happened before, and it isn’t about to happen now. Besides, I am a married woman.”

Meemaw shrugs, “Life does and can change sweetheart. How have things been with you and Mikyl?”

I lift my shoulders in a shrug and shake my head.

“The same. He is still distant.”

I try not to tell her too much. I don’t want her to worry. She stares at me as if she is staring at a memory.

“You are so much like your mother. Every day I see more and more of her in you. I can only hope and pray to the Gods that you find the same happiness she did.”

My mother had died while giving birth to me. Or at least that is what her letter said. Meemaw raised me from a babe. She always told me that I came to her in a beam of pure light, left on her doorstep with a note attached to my blanket.

Mama,

I would like you to meet your grandchild. She was born of me on this day. If you are indeed reading this, please know that I was happy. But I did not survive the birth. Please raise her the same way that you raised me. With love and care. Teach her the ways of this world so she will be prepared for what is to come, but not fearful of it either. Please know that she was made from love and from love she will be blessed with the greatest gifts known to man. Her true light will shine in the darkness. Let her know I loved her. Name her Rosanhi. For she is as beautiful as the roses are when in bloom.

Always and forever, Lilyara

There was never a mention as to who my father was or how I had come to be on Meemaw’s doorstep. All she had was that letter and my name. She did everything that my mother asked of her though. I was raised with love, and I never feared life.

I met Mikyl and we got married. I thought by now we’d have children of our own, but the world had other plans. And this isn’t the world I want to raise children in. It has been almost a year since Mikyl has taken me to bed anyhow. Hard to bare children alone.

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