Page 107 of Flame and Sparrow

Home.

I still couldn’t believe I was home.

My mind raced with questions. What had happened while I was gone? What had changed? What would my friends make of the things I’d seen and done?

As I reached the edge of the mansion’s yard, I caught sight of a familiar silhouette tending to the lanterns by the front door. All of my thoughts crashed to a stop as an overwhelmed, overjoyed little cry escaped me.

Andrel turned at the sound. He was so stunned by my appearance that he barely moved in time to catch me; I collided with his chest, his arms circled around me, and we stumbled, falling together against the house.

We were lost in a tangle of laughter and breathless declarations for a moment before he finally caught my face in his hands and held me in place, taking a step back so he could truly look me over.

“You’re…alive,” he said, still breathless.

The impossibility of the situation overcame me all over again, and another laugh bubbled up through my tears. “Of course I’m alive.”

He studied me for at least another full minute before he finally gave a grin to match my own, and he answered me in a voice thick with emotion, “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“So little faith in me,” I chided.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hands reaching to thread our fingers together and gently squeeze them. “It just feels like it’s been forever,” he said.

“Forever and a day,” I agreed.

There were tears flowing freely down my face now. He reached to wipe them away just as we heard the door open, followed by Cillian’s startled gasp.

Cillian—normally the epitome of grace and balance—nearly tripped as he ran to embrace me. He didn’t speak for a long moment, as if he was afraid his voice might make me disappear.

“How?” he finally whispered. “You’re here, and in one piece, and…”

“It’s a long story.”

His expression brightened at this; of all the people I knew, he’d always been the one most willing to sit and share a long story with me. The thought of spending entire evenings lounging around and catching up with him warmed the last bit of caution from my nerves.

“I’ll tell you all of it,” I assured him.

He gave me a wide grin. “And we’ll do the same for you, of course. We’ve had a lot of company here lately—a lot of things have been happening while you were gone.”

I didn’t want to ask about what those things might have been. Not yet. It was exactly as it had been in my last moments with Dravyn—the questions were endless, but my only concern right then was walking through the door and back into my familiar world. I would reorient myself, heal, and then I would tackle all my questions, one by one.

For now, it was just so good to be home.

* * *

Two days wentby before I truly began to feel like my old self again. I spent most of them catching up with Cillian and Andrel, swapping stories of the past weeks as we’d promised to do.

The only times I spent alone were brief, secret trips I took back into the Nightvale Forest. There were certain spots in those woods where the trees grew more wild, where the air shimmered, and animals behaved strangely—if they dared to enter the spots at all. These were the places where I knew magical residue had pooled in far greater amounts than average; I’d noted such hotspots in the past mainly so I could avoid going anywhere near them.

Even now, I was quick about my visits, lingering only until I felt the tingle of my dormant magic rising in response to my surroundings, sweeping over my skin, and tasted that distinctly salty and metallic flavor of divine power.

I didn’t know how the others would react to me seeking out divine magic to heal myself rather than sticking to the remedies my kind typically used. Cillian would have been disappointed, maybe. Andrel would have wanted me to heal, I think, but he would have been angry at my decision to let magic aid in that healing.

At first, I was disappointed in myself, too, but it got easier with each trip into the wilds. Easier still when I started to notice my innate power actually engaging with the residual magic, working to erase my bruises and soothe my aches. It was like swallowing down a necessary but disgusting, horrible tasting medicine.

I was returning from one of my rejuvenating trips into the forest when I caught sight of Cillian pacing in the yard.

“There you are,” he called, waving me in. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

“Sorry.” I avoided glancing back at the forest, trying to sound casual as I shrugged and said, “It was a pleasant day for a walk in the woods.”

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