River

“Beautiful,” Kaya says.

I glance at her, and my lips stretch into a lazy smile. She is young, still full of awe for things that long ago stopped being new to me. She still carries a light inside her, one I used up a very long time ago. Too long ago.

The sun slowly sinks behind the tree line. Orange gives way to navy, until yet another day comes to an end.

“I refuse to believe it could be more beautiful anywhere else,” the girl adds in a half-whisper.

I knew one place that was. Covered in snow, harsh, almost wild, though despite being drenched in ice, I don’t remember cold. Only warmth, which I haven’t felt in a very long time. Saying goodbye to it had been one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make.

“When you finally grow up enough to leave this place and see a bit of the world,” I say, “you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

“And I’m supposed to leave you?” the girl scoffs, which grips my heart. “No way.”

“I won’t live forever,” I say, but she doesn’t sense the subtle irony in my voice, “and neither will you.”

“Goodnight, Master” she replies, leaning in and kissing my forehead.

I watch until her silhouette completely disappears along the darkening path. I’ll have to say goodbye to her too. Just like to everyone else.

When I enter the house, it’s already dark. I hang a bowl of water over the burning fireplace and prepare herbs for tea.

A crack. A knot tightens in my stomach. I lift my head. The world outside the window seems to flicker.

I leave the herbs and walk to the window, my reflection starring back at me.

Darkness and silence. It is far too quiet.

A boom that thunders in my ears and seems to shake the ground.

A flash. A white line, like lightning, cuts across the sky—but it doesn’t disappear. I hold my breath.

More cracks, one after another, as if someone were stepping on dry branches. The line splits. Widens, as though someone had driven their fingers into reality and was trying to tear it open from the inside. Light explodes in complete silence—sharp, blinding, pure.

I shield my eyes, my hands shaking, and another boom follows, louder and more powerful than the last. Than silence and the light vanishes.

I hear the rush of my own blood, my body feels like it’s burning, a contrast to the ice it had been for a very long time.

I inhale, and for the first time in I don’t even remember how long, it’s full, light. Without pressure in my chest, without heaviness or emptiness.

I look at the sky, once again black, calm, with a million stars that seem to shine brighter than usual.

I smile and feel a tear running down my cheek—not from sadness.

From happiness. From relief.

Finally.

It has begun.