75

  The circular platform on the hill dimmed slowly, its ancient lines of light thinning until they became nothing more than mist in the morning air.

  The world felt normal again.

  Birds called from the upper branches of Talon Peak. Leaves stirred gently in the warm breath of the forest. Bona’s treehouse waited below like a place borrowed from safety itself — wood woven with living branch, soft moss clinging to the railings, wind chimes humming faintly.

  Maxi staggered forward under the weight of the sack.

  It was ridiculous.

  Bigger than him.

  Stuffed to bursting with everything he couldn’t stop grabbing — charms, bottles, sweets wrapped in colored paper, polished stones, tools, trinkets, ribbons, small wooden animals, warped glass ornaments that caught the sun.

  He leaned his whole body forward just to move it.

  Beside him walked the lynx.

  Strapped across its back were bundles of cloth, tied with twine too tight around its fur, small sacks bumping against its sides with each exhausted step. One plastic bag dangled from its neck like an embarrassing necklace.

  It walked with dignity.

  Or at least tried.

  Its golden eyes glanced at Maxi.

  Then forward again.

  It had made a silent decision: suffering now was better than arguing.

  Maxi burst through the door first.

  Wood smacked into wood.

  The scent of herbs and warm candle wax wrapped around him.

  Up the stairs.

  Two steps at a time.

  Too loud.

  Too fast.

  The upstairs room was quiet.

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  Too quiet.

  Finn lay there.

  Moving.

  Breathing.

  Alive — just not awake.

  Maxi lowered the bag slowly.

  He pulled out the candle like he was handling something sacred.

  The candle that did not dry.

  Soothing heat crawled gently through the air just by being lit.

  He placed it beside Finn’s bed.

  And sat.

  And talked.

  Because if he stopped talking, he would break.

  “KyaFinn…” his voice automatically softened.

  “When you wake up… I already planned everything, okay?” he said quickly, like he was racing against time.

  “We’re gonna go back to Dore. I’ll make Dad promise. I don’t care if it’s far. I don’t care if he complains.” A small laugh slipped out.

  “There’s this massive place — like actual stone giants stacked into buildings. Bro, I wanted to cry. Not because I was sad — because it was too cool.” His hands twisted in his lap.

  “There were knights… real ones… and I didn’t feel like a kid when I looked at them.” He swallowed.

  “I think… I think I wanna be one. Not like… some fake one. A real one. Like the kind that protects people and doesn’t run.”

  He looked at Finn’s face.

  Still.

  Peaceful.

  “I met this girl too,” he continued, faster now. “She was annoying. Like… really annoying. She took the candle I wanted, but I got the last one anyway. She had weird hair. And attitude. And she laughed like she owned the street.”

  He scoffed.

  “But don’t worry. I don’t like her. I really don’t.”

  His voice started to bend.

  “You’d probably call me a liar.”

  He leaned closer.

  “I bought you stuff.”

  His fingers trembled.

  “I bought Mom stuff. Aunt Nins. Uncle Osi. Everyone.”

  A breath hitched.

  “I bought things so when you wake up and start talking again… you won’t feel like you missed anything.”

  Silence pressed down.

  He felt it.

  The weight.

  A warm drop slid down his cheek.

  He didn’t wipe it away.

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  His shoulders shook, small at first.

  Then harder.

  “I missed your stupid cooking.”

  “I missed the way you always kicked my feet off the bed.”

  “I missed thinking you were annoying.”

  His voice cracked fully.

  “I don’t like it when you’re quiet.”

  He leaned forward.

  Pressed his forehead gently to Finn’s.

  “I don’t like it when I feel like I’m alone.”

  Footsteps.

  Katherine stepped in softly.

  Maxi turned too fast, staring at the window like it had answers written on it.

  “Thanks for the sweets,” Katherine said gently. “The chocolates here are… very different.”

  She sat.

  Chummy shimmered into view.

  The tiny fairy left drifting lines of white and gold.

  She floated in front of Maxi’s face.

  “You are very loud,” Chummy said kindly.

  Maxi huffed a weak laugh.

  Then she added:

  “Your brother is very lucky.”

  Maxi left before his voice could betray him.

  Downstairs was warmer.

  Durante was holding the bottles Maxi brought.

  The label showed an angel aiming a sword at a demon.

  He placed them on the table carefully.

  Maxi laid out gifts.

  Soraya’s belt.

  Earrings.

  Food.

  Bottle wraps.

  Lynx collapsed nearby, items sliding off its back in dramatic surrender, tail flicking lazily.

  Bona watched quietly.

  Lir smiled faintly.

  “Dad…” Maxi held the golden antler earrings tightly. “Do you think Mom will like these?”

  Durante knelt slightly to him and brushed his hair.

  “She will love them.”

  The wind stirred the house.

  Branches scratched gently at the walls.

  Then—

  A voice.

  Soft.

  Unsteady.

  From above.

  “Dad?”

  Maxi froze.

  His fingers tightened around the earrings.

  And for a breath that felt like forever — he was afraid to look up.