Page 77 of The Source of Storms

I was the first to break it.

“Will you be alright without us? Dealing with him?” I asked my mother.

“Of course. I always am. He’ll cool down. And Noirin and I have a lot to do in the coming days.”

“We do?” Noirin asked. She was clearly pulled from thought as she reeled in a thousand-league stare.

“We do,” my mother said. “I’ll teach you fae magic, if you want. And to live as a selkie. You need to learn the ways of the sea. I should have taught you long ago.”

Noirin nodded, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

We packed and left before my father returned. I hugged Noirin and my mother tightly in the yard.

“Please write, Hal. Let me know you’re safe whenever you can. I love you,” my mother said.

“I will, and I love you too. You’re all welcome in Rhyanaes any time, even Father. It’s safe there, you know, for fae folk. I canride up and guide you. And I’m sure Eilith would love to see you again.”

She nodded. “I’d like to see her again too. And thank you, Hal. I… We needed this.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’m sorry for… I’m sorry I have to leave.”

“It’s alright. Now go, it’s getting dark.” She said to Byrgir, “Keep her safe out there,” and hugged him.

As we trotted for the gate, she called after us, “Oh and Hal? If you find a way, will you let me know?”

I looked back and nodded. “I’ll find a way.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Istood on the sweeping hill near the tree line, away from the road, outside the protection of the forest. Cold wind carrying the whisper of northern winter stung my nose. I closed my eyes and listened to the sea roaring against the cliffs far below. A raging, violent melody.

I looked up, eyes drawn to bright pinpricks of starlight. The ache in my chest deepened. This had been my home. Had been my beginning, my origin, my center. Where I thought I belonged.

I caught a hazy glimmer of green on the edge of my vision. The kind of light that can be seen best only if one doesn’t look directly at it. Along the northern horizon, over the mountains, a dancing haze appeared, twisting in waves. It grew as I watched, a swirl spreading, weaving, serpentining across the northern sky. Joined by another, lancing in from above, and another snaking close, coiling together, and then reaching apart. They stretched wider and higher as the green burned intensely. Purple flared on the edges of the green, then red.

The sky exploded in Aurora Borealis –– Spirit Lights. A riotous, sinuous dance of ethereal color. Green melding into purple into red. Tears began to stream down my face, one after another. Overwhelmed at the beauty of it, at the pain it broke open in my core, the longing for a world and a home that no longer existed. A deep, nostalgic ache for the child I had been, the human girl who had watched these same lights with wondereach winter night, marveling at her place in the great expanse. I wrapped my arms around myself and let the tears run freely, looking up in awe.

“If I saw this every night for the rest of my life, I would never tire of it.”

I turned to see Byrgir looking at me.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes quickly on my sleeve. “Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe it,” I said, but the tears still echoed in my voice.

He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and stood next to me, turning his gaze up at the dancing glow. It was so strong the green reflected off his skin, his eyes, his dark hair.

“I used to watch the Lights at night as a child,” I said. “Sometimes my parents would wake me and Noirin and we’d all stand outside, wrapped in blankets, and watch together.” I looked up at the sky again.

He didn’t answer, just allowed me the space to keep speaking if I wanted to.

“I’ve lost my home, Byrgir. My family. I even lost Eilith, my second family.” The tears began to flow again. “And now I’ve lost myself. I am not even who––what––I thought I was. It’s like I’m back where I started, or worse than where I started. I’m starting over again from nothing.”

“You’re not who you thought you were,” he said thoughtfully, “but realizing you’re not who you thought you were means you get to choose who you become.”

I didn’t answer. He was right, but I was stubborn.

“I know that kind of loss hurts. Knowing you can never go home. That home will never be the same.” Byrgir’s voice was weighted with sincerity, but steady and calming against my stormy disposition.

“The home I thought I had was a lie,” I said. “Iwas a lie.”

---