Page 23 of Fire and Silk
My brother.
He’s leaning slightly to one side, casual, arms folded, his hair tousled and windswept like always, like he just came from diving headfirst into something dangerous and beautiful.
They’re here.
All of them.
I start to run.
Sand kicks up behind me, warm and dry. I don’t feel tired. I don’t feel pain. I just run, heart pounding not in fear butrelief. They’re here. They’re all here.
And then—
Another shape.
Behind them.
Tall. Dark. Familiar in the way that makes my stomach twist.
Mico.
He steps into the light with that same look I remember—eyes soft, mouth set in something halfway between sorrow and tenderness. Like he’s holding something he doesn’t want to lose.
I cry out and launch toward him. His arms open. He holds me like he always used to. He smells like cedar and warm linen.
“I love you,” he says, voice thick, low.
And just as my lips part to say it back—
He turns to dust.
Not violently. Not like an explosion.
He just fades.
Fingers first. Then shoulders. Then heart.
Ashes in the air.
“No—” My hands claw at the air, trying to catch him. My knees hit the sand, and I dig frantically, trying to find whatever’s left. Just a sleeve. Just a button.Anything.
But there’s nothing.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, voice breaking, trembling hands raking the ground. “Please—please don’t leave me.”
I turn toward the others.
“Mama—”
They’re fading too.
One by one. Gentle. Terrible.
My mother’s dress unravels into light. My father’s arms dissolve into shadow. Marco’s smile stays even as his shape turns to smoke.
I run to them.
The sand drags at my legs. My chest shatters.
